So I had just "finished" the Boston Marathon, the most highly anticipated marathon of my life, the one I repeatedly tried and failed to qualify to run, the one I had visions of an emotional finish down Boylston Street and across the famous blue and yellow Boston Marathon finish line...
That just happened. But when I finally did cross that line I had nothing. Tears? Elation? Joy? Self loathing at my personal worst by over a half an hour? Nope. Nada. I just hobbled off into the masses and made my way to the hotel to find Toby, because my only thought was concern that he'd be worried about me. As I entered our hallway I saw a few of my friends wandering about in and out of their rooms. I opened up our door and... nothing. Toby wasn't there, and worst still, he hadn't been there. Nothing on my phone either. So I went out into the hall to chat with the others about our races and took my phone with me in case he was trying to contact me.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. If you're going to talk about Boston it all begins months prior, when you're training for Boston, and by training I mean hill repeats with lots of downhills, and long runs with lots of hills...Only I didn't do any of that. I was going to run and have "fun" and not worry so much about my performance. After all, I had finally made it to the big show, the Mecca of running, the Holy Grail, the Boston Marathon! Also, I had a nagging hamstring, so all of my training runs were pretty flat. Nevermind that I dropped out of the Mt. Rushmore marathon at mile 16 because of the downhill terrain...The excitement of finally making it to Boston overshadowed all of that.
The moment you arrive in Boston it's alive with marathon frenzy. The locals refer to it as "the invasion of the skinny people". There is an undeniable buzz in the air. We had a large group from Dallas, and we also joined up with Janet Hughes, who was one of the girls I ran my first marathon with who had since moved to Colorado.
The first order of business was to get to the expo ASAP and buy buy buy. It's a good thing I have devil dog shopping skills, because it was a total madhouse! I walked away with a singlet, shorts, long sleeved tech top, fleece, gym bag, and the coveted jacket. If you run the Boston marathon you must buy the jacket. The second thing you do is walk over to the finish line nearby and take your picture.
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| Toby, Kathy, and me. |
Boston's course, although historic, is somewhat problematic in that every participant is bused out to the tiny town of Hopkinton on race day to await a noon start (in 2003). We had an issue with our van. He either didn't have permission to take us all the way to Hopkington, or got lost, but either way we found ourselves dumped off the side of the road about 3 miles away. We kept trying to flag down buses, but they were all full, until finally a bus pulled up and let us get on! That madness cut into race prep and didn't help, mentally!
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| At Hopkington--not the best picture, but notice the Texas Flag shorts |
Toby went off to his corral and Janet, Kathy, and I went to ours, which was around a corner and so far away from the start that you couldn't even hear the gun go off! In fact, it took us over 11 minutes of walking until we finally crossed the starting line! (It was better in 2011 with more waves and earlier start times).
Initially, things were going well. The crowds were simply amazing--in every small town the streets were lined with cheering people. It helped that it was a holiday, Patriot's day, and with the noon start people were already celebrating. It was very common to see grills and yard parties along the way. But I knew I was in trouble around mile 11 or so. I just felt hot and felt like our pace was too fast for me, so I let Janet and Kathy go and decided to slow down and try to recover. I did the classic "hide from your friends at the water stop" maneuver. When I approached the famous Wellesley girls I was annoyed by the shrill of their screaming, although I did find humor in their signs regarding kissing. The annoyance was yet another red flag. I was struggling by then, even with the slow down. When I got to mile 15 I started walking. The best way to describe how I felt was that I felt like my quads were being pulled off their bones! There I was having to do a walk-run shuffle and thinking, "Crap! I can't drop out! I just bought all that Boston stuff!" What makes matters worse is I was taunted by the trains running parallel to the course. At one point a spectator yelled, "Texas, what's your name?" I said my name, so he yells, "Teresa from Texas!!! Run!" and the crowd cheered for me, but once I got around the corner I walked again. At one point I smelled grilling burgers and I swear I almost stopped right there to ask for a burger and a beer. I was so so hungry--after all at that time, near the end, it was probably around 4:00 PM and all I had eaten was breakfast, a banana, and the gels! I came by Fenway park right as a game was ending, and the gauntlet of people there was so tight I could smell the beer on their breaths. All the Texas cheers--I was so mad that I wore those stupid Texas shorts!
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| You can see the pain in my face and weirdly contorted hands |
Finally, there I was, running down Boylston street, the finish line in the horizon, the moment I had dreamed about, and my only thought was that it was long, long, ridiculously long...
Sitting in the hallway of our hotel my phone rings. It's Toby. He says he's coming up the elevator. I have no idea where he's been or what his story is, but when he steps out of the elevator I see the tell-tale cotton ball taped to the inside of his arm. Oh boy! Once again, let me introduce my guest blogger, Toby, to tell his story...
Teresa does superior work in describing the sights and sounds
of Boston, so I’ll give you my perspective. (And yes I did buy the jacket
too).
There were runners everywhere and for some reason they seemed really excited about Boston! To me (“The
Cyclist”) it was just a
marathon. Don’t be too offended, I came
to appreciate the history and tradition of the Boston Marathon. I reviewed my
2003 logbook for writing this blog and even I was surprised by my lack of
running. Apparently I had convinced
myself all I needed to run a marathon was minimal mileage, cycling fitness and
talent from above. My average miles per
week, a staggering 12 (yep, that's sarcasm).
Did one long run of 18 miles, 24 days before Boston. (I did manage ~200 miles of cycling per month
for Jan-Apr). With all this superior
training (sarcasm continues), I needed a time goal for Boston, mmm, ran ~3:15 in
my first two marathons, so I should try to go faster, nothing too crazy, just a
3:10. Yep, a marathon
idiot.
Teresa mentioned our “little warm-up” getting to the start
area, which probably didn’t help my attempt at a 3:10, nor did the weather,
sunny and 70°F. And you know what? Boston isn’t flat. I’m oblivious to all of these things. Off to the staging corrals! Any guesses where
this one is going???
I’m also clueless with Boston’s systematic staging corrals
you’re surrounded by similar paced runners, so you shouldn’t be concerned about
taking ~3 minutes to cross the start line and you shouldn't feel the need to get
past people in the beginning, mile 1, sub 7, oops. I recall my quads feeling “something” by mile
1, but I’m not smart enough to know any better, nor am I smart enough to realize the first
mile is mostly downhill. Average pace
for first 5k is 7:09, (3:10 equates to ~7:15 pace), so I’m on a ~3:07 pace, more
oops I was completely clueless how deep
of a hole I had dug myself into in a mere a 3 miles. I’ll blame it on the crowds, especially the
Wellesley College Scream Tunnel, which you hear before you
see, https://youtu.be/WbuXW647hCA?t=10s
Half way, 1:34:47, still on 3:10 pace, but imagine this, I’m
hurting, I know shocking. No biggie, I
was hurting at Disney and managed to keep pace, after all isn’t a marathon
supposed to hurt? Recall from the Disney
story I said warm weather and / or hills would have done me in, well... Also I’m not smart enough to know that warm
weather or hills can impact your marathon, told you I was clueless.
The Newton Hills, miles ~16-20, although they are not named
after Sir Isaac Newton, they should be as his laws of motion and universal
gravitation had grasp of me. The wheels were falling off. Somewhere along the way
I stopped at a medical tent to take off my shoe to treat a major blister on my
right big toe. Reality had set in, 3:10
was gone. Didn’t take long to see 3:15
was gone too. I can say that Heartbreak
Hill (~mile 20) did not break me, I was already shattered. I “sneaked” behind the crowds to the sidewalk
and walked up Heartbreak Hill. Maybe my
stroll down the sidewalk gave me time to set a new goal, 3:30, quite the
tumble!
The last 10k was a struggle (duh). Plenty of crowd support, but wearing Texas
flag shorts was a mistake, “Com’on TEXAS, you can do
it, don’t stop!” And everybody say it with me, “You’re almost there!” Ugh. The aroma of outdoor cooking lined the
course, remember at this stage it’s ~3pm, who knows when I ate breakfast and oh
yea, I’ve ran 20+ miles. Around Fenway
Park it smells like a frat house washed in beer, lovely. Remember it’s Patriot’s Day, a civic holiday
in Massachusetts so the afternoon crowds while friendly, do have plenty of adult
liquid energy in them to support your cause.
The damage had been done, my 7:17 pace through mile 15 went up to
an 8:55 for the last 11 miles.
Told myself I was going to run from mile 25 on, but it was more of a
hobble / wobble and a 9:20 pace. The
result, a poorly executed 3:28. While
even today a 3:28 sounds good, it’s never good when one’s second half pace per
mile is 1 minute and 40 seconds slower than the first half.
I’m also sunburned. That makes me officially done and the next adventure
begins…
Chaos is a good way to describe the finishing area. Volunteers are destroying the finish fences
to get to collapsing finishers, the warm temps and sun had fried people,
including me. I’m dizzy headed and am struggling to make progress through the
finishing area. Volunteers ask me if I
need assistance, I politely tell them I just need to “rest” and I’ll be okay,
off I stumble. Next volunteer asks me if
I’m okay, same response, I’ll be okay, plus there are numerous finishers that
have collapsed and really need assistance.
After a few stumbles I find myself being hoisted over the fence by
volunteers, being placed in a wheelchair and carted off to the medical
tent. Crazy scene inside the medical
tent! It’s being ran like a triage
M.A.S.H. unit, they're well organized / staffed and have things under control
. “Bair Hugger to 36” - “IV to 21” –
“wheelchairs to the finish”, their PA system was abuzz with instructions to
the staff. They take my vitals and once
I appear stable, (i.e. they don’t think I’ll puke), they start an IV. Wondrous invention, although I’ll be
requesting a blanket very shortly. They
even bring your finisher’s medal to you.
Don’t recall how long I was in the medical tent, an hour, maybe two? While I don’t recommend the adventure of medical tent, I did get my
money’s worth out of my entry fee.
Off I wander to find the luggage buses. Sad sight as most the
bags around my bus are gone, making it obvious I’d had a rough marathon. Luckily they hadn’t given away my belongings,
so I made my “claim of shame” to collect my stuff and venture to the hotel to
see how others fared.
No matter what my future marathon times are, hopefully Boston
2003 will stay my worst marathon, although it did teach numerous marathon
lessons. My next marathon attempt would
not be until Feb 2006 and I would run Boston in 2010 to “redeem myself”, those
are stories for future blogs, maybe…
Back to Little T…
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| Looks deceptively good in finish line photo |
So many parallels! Boston 2003 still stands as the slowest marathon for both of us, and yes, we both returned to Boston in 2010 (Toby) and 2011 (me) (See blog titled, "Blast from the Past: Boston Marathon 2011", dated 3/28/13). It wasn't all bad. We met the Melders, now great friends of ours, on that stupid van and 2003 was the year Will Ferell ran Boston. Neither one of us saw him, but Kathy did! And nobody remembers that 2003 was a warm one because 2004 ended up being a heck of a lot warmer!
