Boston Marathon

The big day finally arrived!  I had been dreaming of this day for a long time.  I had talked about it so much that family and friends were getting sick of hearing about it.  Almost every conversation and thought had to do with this very day.  I trained for this harder and longer than anything else in my entire life.  The Boston marathon was finally here!  I had gone through a 20 week training cycle, hitting every speed workout and long run with the focus of a professional.  My diet had been flawless and my PR’s in every distance from a 5k to a half marathon had dropped.  I was the fastest, fittest and most focused I had ever been.  I was all set to break the 3 hour marathon threshold in the all star game of marathon races.  I had even planned this trip to coincide with my taper and rest the day before and wait to sight see in the days following this epic event.  Needless to say, everything within my control had been done with attention to the smallest detail down to what socks I was going to wear.  I even tried to do all of my training in the cool Tennessee mornings to simulate conditions of the early New England spring when temperatures were typically in the mid 50’s to low 60’s.  Little did I know that the one thing I could not control would be the one thing to crash any preparations for a perfect race as a freak heat wave would soon plague the 116^th running of the Boston Marathon?

The whole week had the heat in the low 70’s and it just so happened that on race day the heat was predicted to be 90 by noon on race day.  Everyone in Boston was in complete shock about this heat wave.  A few years ago during the Chicago marathon, they actually stopped the race when the heat hit the mid 80’s.  Green Bay Wisconsin actually cancelled their marathon this year when the heat rose to 80.  There were email alerts from the race director encouraging people to differ their race entry until next year because of the fear of heat related illness.   The perfect marathon conditions have been proven to be at around 55 degrees.  This is the right temperature to keep the body from using extra energy to either warm up your core or have to cool it down.  At 90 degrees it would be almost impossible to run any type of PR on this course.  There were 2,500 people that differed their entry until the next year and about another 1,800 that were unable to finish this race, including the course record holder, Geoffery Mutai, who dropped out at mile 18 due to heat stress.  Keep in mind that Boston is a marathon for the top 1% of marathon runners in the world so there are no first timers, only experienced veterans.

At the start line the heat had already risen to 85 degrees with little shade and most people, including me, were already showing sweat stains on our shirts.  As the gun went off I settled into my goal pace of 6:52 per mile just to see how long it would be feasible to hold it.  By mile 3 my shoes were already making the squishing sound as if I had just stepped through a puddle of water due to the excessive amount of sweat that I had already lost.  My pace then dropped to 7:15 per mile.  As the race went on my pace continued to drop to a survivor shuffle since the temps continued to rise and shade was at a minimum on the scorching black pavement.  At this point I decided just to run instead of race and enjoy the experience.  Even though this is not what I intended as my condition worsened, but what I saw still made it worth the agony.  I saw a city that was very proud of its heritage and as to why Boston lives up to the hype.

I was most impressed by the community support of those that reside along the race course.  As the heat picked up, people set up sprinkler systems in their front yard pointing them in the street for us to run through.  Other’s where handing out popsicles and even had coolers of ice to hand out to runners.  A gas station owner had even carted out a giant case of Zico Coconut Water to hand out to runners.  These folks were not paid volunteers and were spending their own hard earned money to give out supplies to runners like me simply to show support.  Boston loves its runners that much.  Even after the race, runners were given free access to the subway system to get a ride home to recover.   It is easy to see why so many people spend their lives trying to qualify for this race in hopes of someday running here.

The course is filled with landmarks that are recognized by running enthusiasts all over the world.  Ask anyone that has ran here before about Wellesley and you will probably get a smirk or chuckle out of them.  This comes at the half way point as you pass by the college filled with screaming girls holding signs begging for a kiss from any of the runners.  The sound of shrieks is so loud that I almost collapsed from the blinding pain of the sound.  I honestly can say that I did not stop for a kiss either, especially with so many photographers ready to take pictures for the internet around.  Casey would not appreciate it plus at this point I was so tired and ready to finish the race that kissing a stranger was at the bottom of things on my mind.  The next big landmark comes a few miles later in the town of Newton with the dreaded “Heartbreak Hill” at the end.  This is the part that most runners start to falter and a lot of elite runners have lost the race from this part of the course.  Newton starts around mile 18 and the last hill is around mile 21.  From here on out it is a steady downhill into downtown Boston until you see the famous CITGO billboard that lets you know that there is only 1 mile left to go.

I had mentioned on another post about people running for different reasons and Boston is definitely not an exception.  I saw countless men and women running in uniform for their fallen brethren.  There were lots of people with shirts that had homage paid toward a sick or fallen loved one.  Others were pushing someone with special needs in a wheelchair through the streets of Boston.  I saw two different wheel chairs with a parent pushing their disabled child down the street.  I even saw a few runners struggling through the course on prosthetic legs. You don’t have to observe this for very long without getting touched by the display of human love and affection for one another.   It is impossible to complain and gripe about race pains and fatigue when seeing a little boy who will never get the chance to walk getting pushed by his dad while he lay in a crumpled heap strapped in and confined to a wheelchair but still smiling and enjoying the ride.  As I think about it today, I still get a little choked up.  I must have cried for the last 2 miles of the race as I noticed these people.  I had to even stop a couple of times to tell them that I was proud of them which is not something I normally ever do.

I crossed the finish line in a time of 3:32:01, pointed my fingers to the sky to thank GOD for this day and smiled as a finisher’s medal was placed around my neck.  This endeavor over the last 4 years had finally been accomplished although it did not play out the way I had anticipated.  I met up with my family and went sightseeing for a while before getting ready to head home the next day.  I checked this race off of my list and hung my medal along with the countless others as now I have put this race in the past and look forward to the next challenge, whatever it may be.