Boston Marathon

I’ve been battling some SI/piriformis issues ( due to 3 marathons in 6 months) and had been to see the physical therapist twice in the week before the marathon - with one last visit on Thursday before the race for massage, ultrasound and iontophoresis and an admonition to “Stay Symmetric.”.. and ice like there’s no tomorrow. Later, while sitting on a bag of ice at the hotel, I recieved a call from the above therapist, K, who is also my friend and running partner. She’d flown up to Boston to see her grandmother and surprise me! (Long story, but we were supposed to run Boston together with another friend, but due to injury and late qualifying, I was running it solo. Also, I had to leave Brian and the kids in Florida, so I was rather lonely). We planned to meet up at the Newton hills during the marathon, but until then she had to help out Grandma.

After the race start, I remembered the strict admonitions to NOT go out too fast during that first downhill portion of the race, and managed to stay at 8:50 for the first mile, then dropped it to 8:28, 8:31, 8:32. One amazing thing about that downhill portion is the thick river of humanity that stretches out in front of you. I would love to see an aerial shot of the race route at about 10:45! The holiday atmosphere along the route is amazing! I love watching the families and kids out all bundled up and handing out oranges and water. It’s awesome high-fiveing those little mittened hands! Although, I’m always wary of taking food from strangers... well, except for that beer from the boys at mile 11. They were preferentially offering beers to the male runners, and so I took one. Mostly just to see what the response would be (and it was impressive, lots of hoots and hollars, a couple of photos and a “YOU’RE THE MAN, ANN” As a side note, I have never been so glad that I wrote my name on my shirt! Or that it’s such an easy name to read! All the kids along the course were cheering for me!)

The weather was AMAZING to run in! Cool and breezy - it felt wonderful. Almost too good! It seems like every real runner has a story about Boston in terrible conditions (my friend K ran it in 80 degrees with a broken rib), but today was perfect. No excuse for running poorly! And, this was likely to be my last cool weather run until October - so I had to enjoy every minute of it!

My splits continued to be rather unremarkable. 8:24, 8:33, 8:36, 8:30, 8:34. I was running exactly according to my plan to re-qualify for next year. I must have gotten a bit excited by the beer at mile 11, because the next split was 8:18. But then I managed to get back on track 8:33, 8:25.

The women of Wellesley were amazing! I had heard about them, but then to hear them from a mile away!

Mile 15, I really started to struggle, and my splits reflected it. I dropped to 8:45. Looking for something to motivate me, I started spotting and thanking all the military I could see on the course. That helped a bit, and I managed 8:22, but then dropped to 8:46. About this point in the race was where I planned to meet up with K (blue mailbox at the corner of Washington and Hope). The hills were beating me up, and I sorely needed some help getting through them. K jumped onto the course and ran with me for the next 4 miles. After my next split was 8:42, I dejectedly commented that I was NOT going to make my goal time. So K kicked my butt back in gear and told me to shut up, stop highfiving the kids and just run. Hence, my next splits through the hills were 8:08, 8:24, 8:36 (up heartbreak hill) and 8:08 (back down the other side). Then K wished me luck and split off before course security could throw her off the course. (Now THAT’s a true friend - one that flies a thousand miles to run Boston bandit and get you through the Newton hills!)

It was all downhill from there, and I ran 8:26, 8:26, 8:32 and 8:38. That Citgo sign is so much bigger and much more beautiful in person!

Then that last half mile! 10 people deep on either side! There is something very cool and rock-star-ish about staring straight ahead and running amidst all that adoration! Then, turning that final corner onto Boylston, seeing the clear blue sky and the finish line framed by the historic buildings of Boston on either side, with a fringe of people and police lining my peripheral vision and completely filling my ears with that amazing bouyant and raucous noise that is the fireworks finale of the Boston Marathon. Truly the finish line of Boston could never be merely the blue banner over your head and the timing mat beneath your feet. It’s that entire glorious last half mile. (that last little split - 7:54)

I’ve run my entire life just to experience that.

And I made it in 3:44:18. One second slower than my PR, but it’s a BQ and I even managed to run the second half 22 seconds faster than the first. I’ll definately be back next year.

After the finish line, all the runners are given a silver mylar blanket (okay, so now I get the need for the blanked. With all that Boston wind, I was FREEZING!). We were instructed to head down to the “Chip removal area” and have our chips removed from our shoes. I picked up a power bar “Recovery” along the way - it was terrible! Tasted exactly like a crumbly candle. I took one bite and immediately began looking for a trash can to toss it. After finally finding one I tried to throw the bar away... only to miss the can and have the bar fall to the ground. This may sound wimpy after running so far, but I just stood there, wistfully looking at the powerbar at my feet, wondering how the heck was I going to bend down to pick it up AND get back up again. A few other runners gathered to ponder the issue with me. Then I just bit the bullet, and retieved it - and obtained a little assistance to become vertical again. I then sought out the chip removers. Boston doesn’t use the plastic ties to keep the chip on your shoe, apparently they break too easily. Rather, they make you actually tie it through your shoelaces. The chips don’t fall off, but then you have to untie your shoe to return it. Feeling emboldened by my recent feat of picking up the powerbar, I actually managed to remove my own Chip! I was very proud. Unfortunately, I only managed to walk another 10 feet before I had to return and have someone retie my shoe. I recieved my medal and reclaimed my gear bag and headed to the subway. I had brought my favorite recovery drink with me (single serving Horizon Chocolate milk) and consumed 3 of them while waiting for the T. Once the train arrived it was very clear that not only was it filled to capacity with marathon runners and spectators, but that I and everyone waiting with me was getting on anyway. We were packed in so tightly that even though I couldn’t reach anything to hold onto, I had no difficulty standing up anyway.

Two trains and a half mile walk back to the B&B later, I gathered a couple of bins of ice headed to the tub for my customary post-marathon ice bath. (yes, it’s as miserable as it sounds, but it helps recover in the long run). I ran cold water into the tub, poured in the ice and cringed as I lowered myself into it. As I may have mentioned before, I’m a wus, and so I had the spare blanket wrapped around my shoulders, and was watching “Pride and Prejudice” on my iphone while waiting for the requisite 15 minutes in the ice bath to pass.

And I suppose that’s the end. And now no more marathons until the fall. Just a 10k this Sunday, and then maybe another race in May (but it’s only a half-marathon)...

Hopkinton

In case you’ve missed my barrage of Facebook updates, Monday was my latest marathon. As I may have mentioned before, I love marathons. Therefore, I try to write down as much as I can remember about them so that I can go back and remember everything. I know, it’s a bit long, and probably not very interesting, so feel free to skim and skip at will. Oh, and I was too long winded to get it all into one blog post, so this one is only the athlete’s village and pre -race. And since Brian says I need to turn the computer off and go to bed, the race part of it will have to wait until tomorrow.

I got up at 530 grabbed breakfast, walked to the T (subway), and made my way to Boston Commons. I had met up with another runner along the way, and we got into the incredibly long line waiting to get into the bus for Hopkinton. There were 3 huge lines, each feeding into about 3 school busses. As soon as one would fill up, they’d drive away and nine more busses would pull up. In spite of how effective this sounds, that line moved remarkably slow.

After piling onto the bus, we were off to Hopkinton. It took about an hour and a half to get there in a bus, and was going to take me hopefully less than 4 hours to get back.

The athletes village was set up on the grounds of the local high school - basically it was a big open field with two big tents, a long line for bagels and coffee, and an even longer line for the hundreds of port-a-potties. Having priorities, I got in line for the coffee first. It was so cold that morning that I had layered in 2 shirts, a sweatshirt, sweatpants and old shoes. And still, my hands were shaking so much from the cold that I kept spilling the precious coffee. I finally managed to get enough down to warm up a bit and I headed towards the portapotty lines. They were massive and slow moving, and I only had about 2 hours to get through them before the race started.

An HOUR later, I made it through the line and the loudspeaker announced that my number group was called and advised to begin heading towards the start corrals. It was at this point that I may have made the most crucial mistake... I was too reluctant to strip down to the sleeveless shirt under all my layers and apply sunscreen. I brought it with me but just couldn’t force my self to expose bare skin to the cold. So I simply changed from my old toss-able shoes into my shoes for the marathon, stripped off the middle layer of shirt (without removing the outer layer), and left my shoes at the clothing donation tent. I kept my sweats on (technically they were Brian’s sweats from college, but I’d long since commandeered them) until a later donation site, and then tossed them just before the start. I also managed to pick up some free gloves (with the marathon logo and HP logo on them) - okay, so I picked up 4 pairs, but they weren’t all for me. I gave one to Jackie (a rheumatologist from Canada that I met on the bus) and one for each of my running partners.) I then took my bag to the buses that would transport them to the finish line. I was impressed with their creative use of school buses for this purpose. Each window of the school bus was labeled with a number range corresponding to our race bib number. After finding your assigned window, you handed your bag to the volunteer waiting inside the window, thereby turning the bus into a honeycomb of runner’s bags. Immediately after handing mine off, I remembered I had accidentally left my pace bracelet in my gear bag. And I’d worked so hard on it, too! Nike had a booth at the expo where you could tell them your goal finish time and they’d print out a custom pace bracelet with a goal pace for each mile based on the actual incline or decline of that particular section of the race. It sounds good in theory, but Boston starts out with a significant decline. And if you run that portion too fast, you WILL pay for it after mile 20 (trust me. My 2 worst marathons were because of the first 5 miles). So, fortunately, I’ve had enough good sense (ie: experience) to look at that bracelet (which recommended an 8:17 first mile!!), scoff and toss it. Fortunately I’d come across a spreadsheet on the internet that did a similar customization of pace for Boston, but seemed like it was created by someone who’d actually run a marathon. So, I’d printed it out, and then coated it with clear acrylic craft paint to make it waterproof, and stitched it onto a velcro wrist band. Yes, I am crazy. But then I FORGOT it in my gear bag!

The first wave of runners started the race at 10. I was in the second wave at 10:30. Historically, there is a F15 flyover at the start of the marathon - and it occurred just as I was leaving the Athlete’s Village for the Second Wave Start. It was neat to see - but quite honestly, only because it is part of the history and the legend of the Boston Marathon. The actual flyover wasn’t all that impressive. Nice for it’s historic significance, but I’ve spent too many years in the Air Force and married to the Air Force and living at the end of the runway of an f15 base in Japan to be all that impressed by 2 planes flying by. (Nothing compared to the joy of 10 consecutive f15 takeoffs at 6 am on a Saturday morning.) Before I could As I began the long walk to the start corrals, chit chatting with random people along the way. For some it was their first Boston, others had run many before. The start corals were amazingly chaotic, everyone trying to sort themselves into their alloted spot. I finally found corral 17 - about 1 minute before the race started - and crammed into it with the other thousand runners assigned. We were packed in so tightly that it was impossible to be cold.

Surprisingly, the race started on time - and it only took me 2 minutes to get to the start.

The Boston Finish Line - one day early

This is not my race report, just some reminiscing. The picture above is from the day before the marathon, although the post below is actually from the day after. I've had much more time on my hands this weekend, and I get to pondering.
Ten years ago, Brian and I had just gotten married and moved into our new house in North Dakota. It was my last year of medical school, and I had saved up ALL my vacation time so that I could spend the entire spring semester with Brian. Unfortunately, due to the nature of Brian's job, he was gone most of that time- first to Saudi for a month and then once the US began bombing Kosovo he was moved to London for a indefinate period of time.
We had just bought a house and I had undertaken the task of decorating and painting. As I was newly married and this was my first home, I had no clue how poor my interior decorating taste truly is. So I started with the basement. Basements generally give me the creeps- I find them cold and dismal, so I thought that a nice cheery yellow would help to brighten up the space.
As I set to the daunting task of taping and painting, I kept the TV on for company, and since I was up and down on the chair and usually had painty fingers, I left the TV on the same channel and watched whatever came on. This is how I wound up watching a documentary about marathons. I was kind-of a runner then, but generally no more than 3 miles. Five at the most. I'm not sure why, but for some reason running a marathon has always been alluring. I distinctly recall watching, from beginning to end, Joan Benoit run and win the 1984 Olympic marathon (I was 11years old at that time, and as my father will attest, not one to willingly sit still through any sport spectating event).
As I listened I did the mental math ( let's see ten minute miles times 26... 260 minutes divided by 60... That's 4 and 1/2 HOURS of running). Then they talked of the Boston Marathon and the qualifying times needed to enter. Almost TWO minutes faster than my typical pace. Oh well, I would never be able to run fast enough to enter the Boston marathon. It is rather deflating to realize that there us something out there that is completely out of your realm of possibility (at least is is when you're 24.) There was no way I could run so fast so far. All regular people ran ten minute miles as far as I knew.

So, for the rest of the story...

And as soon as I put the last stroke of paint on the wall I knew. It was as if something clicked. The room almost began to glow and throb with yellow. It was so horrid that it burned your retinas to look at and would surely induce a seizure if one sat in there for long. It was exactly like living inside of a yellow highlighter. I had to repaint it immediately to a soothing shade if green. Thankfully Brian wasn't there to witness the horror. He never would have let me pick out paint colors again. And yellow is not that easy to cover up.

Oh, and yesterday I ran the Boston Marathon.

Boston Bound

I got up at 4:30 this morning in order to make my flight to Boston- via a four hour layover in Dallas. I've been packing for this trip for about two weeks now, shuffling and re-packing until I'm now certain to have forgotten something or other. I was going to just take a carry on, but then couldn't figure out how to get my mousse to Boston. And really, if you're at all familiar with my hair you know that traveling without the certainty of reliable mousse is not an option. Hence I had toyed with the idea of just shipping a box of "checked baggage" to myself but found it would be easier to just check a bag, although not necessarily cheaper. The fee to check my bag was more than the postage to ship it. The point is, I have shuffled my stuff from backpack to box to one bag and then another. Im trying to minimize the baggage I have to tote through Boston because I'm moving from one hotel to a bed and breakfast after the first night. I'd put off reserving a hotel room until February. I had thought two months would be ample lead time, but judging from the incredulous tone of many an innkeeper when I inquired about room availability(" oh no- that's MARATHON weekend") it was a bit late. Hence I wound up with a reservation at a large hotel chain in a Boston suburb that seemed roughly equivalent to staying in Queens. I was already bummed about going top this marathon solo(running partners are injured or otherwise unable to run, and flying the family up for the weekend was just too cost prohibitive) but then isolating myself further in a hotel room far from all the hubbub was just too depressing. So I managed to find a B&B in Cambridge for the second two nights, but the trade off is that I have to lug all my stuff on the Boston subway(the T) from hotel A to hotel B and then head back to the expo to pick up my number.
Fortunately for my packing needs, I'm leaving my two most complex items at home... Jackson and Riley. It's amazing how much you don't have to carry in your purse when the two monkeys aren't tagging along. This downsizing of my purse allowed me to take a good hard look at its contents: animal crackers, Slinky, baby wipes, hotwheels, dum dum suckers, bandaids, ponytails, jet airplane etc. All of which is indispensable for daily life with the two monkeys, but rather superfluous when it's just me.
So now I'm in flight and feeling oddly exposed. Traveling without kids feels a little like suddenly not having internet access- I am cut off not only from all my usual ways of interacting with people (usually I have either a child in tow or a stethoscope. Both of which fundamentally alter the way people treat you)but I'm at a total loss of what to do with myself. I miss having a little head to steer (because steering Jackson with his noggin is by far the most effective means of getting him going in the right direction. There's even a handy little divot at the base of his skull that seems just made for this purpose). And who do I talk to without Brian around or Riley's incessant chatter and questions?

No wonder I feel like I forgot to pack something... I did.