There is so much to be said about this day. I am going to describe the day up until the point of the horrific events at the finish, narrating my second running of the Boston Marathon.
I had a restless night on Sunday, the eve of the Boston Marathon. This is typical for me before big races. This year’s Boston was perfect running weather. The high for the day was only in the low 50s. It was breezy and a little cloudy. I wasn’t worried about weather this year, as I was last year. I was just worried and I didn’t know why. I had blisters from all the sightseeing from the days before, so I was nervous about how they were going to feel on race day. When my alarm sounded it was go time.
I tried to eat breakfast and forced down some oatmeal, which is a meal I always eat on race day. I packed some coconut water and water to drink while waiting at the start, slipped on my old running shoes instantly feeling those blisters, and left the house at 5:40 a.m.
When we arrived in the Back Bay area to catch the buses going out to Hopkinton, it was crowded. Skye was waiting at a light and I was so nervous, I just jumped out of the car without saying thanks for the ride or bye to Skye or Marc, and headed toward the buses.
I jumped in line for a bus and got a seat, and actually snoozed almost the entire way to Hopkinton. I don’t sleep on buses, so I must have been tired. When the buses arrived in Hopkinton it felt so cold. It’s pretty shaded in the runners village, but I tried finding a place in the sun and curled up in my blanket, sweats, and sweatshirt and waited. I had nearly 2 hours before my wave headed to the starting line.
When my wave was called at 9:15, I dropped my gear bag off and headed towards the start. The sun was really shining at this point and it felt great. It was amazing to catch a glimpse of the Elite field who were in wave 1 as well, but obviously at the front. Those last 45 minutes before the race flew by. The gun sounded and we were off.
I knew the course was going to be tough, with the downhill at the start and the rolling hills at the end, so I tried to pace myself. I was averaging 6:55 miles for the first half. I tried slowing down to at least 7 minute miles, but it wasn’t happening.
I felt great the first 15 miles. As usual the crowd was amazing. Lots of families out cheering for you and offering Kleenex, sponges, ice, water, oranges, popsicles, and licorice. I never pass up a free orange. I wish the guys doing farmer blows or snot rockets in front of me would have grabbed the Kleenex. Yes, I was in line of snot rockets.
By mile 15 I was really feeling those blisters. I had been overcompensating because of them, and so by the time I reached the rolling hills at Newton my right hamstring and ankle had had enough. My hamstring was so tight and mixed with the blisters I didn’t know what hurt worse. I was so tempted to drop out, but all my fans back home and in Boston kept me going. I knew I had lots of people following me, and pride kicked in. My pace slowed to 7:15 per mile by this time.
I reached the bottom of Heartbreak Hill and wanted to cry. My quads were shot, my feet burned, and a sharp pain shot through my hamstring. I kept telling myself after heartbreak its almost all downhill (which honestly hurt just as bad). Only about 5 miles left.
I was almost to the top of heartbreak before I needed to walk. It was a humbling moment for me, but the pain was too much. My friends Skye and Kevin were near the top and were cheering me on. They knew something was wrong and Kevin ran onto the course asking if I needed anything. He told me Marc was on the right side of the finish line and would be waiting for me. I don’t know what it was, but Kevin’s assurance and all the cheering fans gave me some strength. I started running again, made it to the top of heartbreak, and tried to imagine myself coasting in.
I won’t lie those last 5 miles were the worst 5 miles I have ever run. Every time my foot landed I felt pain in my feet, quads, and hamstring. I saw the Citgo sign and knew I was close. Just keep running.
When I rounded the corner at Boylston street, relief and joy were all I felt.
Marc waited at the finish nearly all day and got to see the elite field finish.
He said it was amazing. I looked through some of his photos and they looked amazing. My grandparents thought I got fourth place, because they thought I was…..
Yes, Shalane Flanagan. I wish!! But it feels good to be compared to Flanagan, not going to lie. 🙂 I wished I looked that good finishing, but instead I looked like this:
Beat!!
I crossed the finish line in 3:19:58, 11 minutes faster than my last Boston, but not the finishing time I had hoped for. I was elated and wanted to cry. I just finished yet another Boston Marathon. My legs cramped up almost immediately.
It took over an hour to go through the finishing area, receiving my medal, heat blanket and water and finally my gear bag. I made my way to the meeting area to meet Marc and was so happy to see him.
I had finished. It was all over. All my hard work had paid off.
Honestly if it wasn’t for all my supporters and all those fans on the course, I wouldn’t have finished. The Boston experience is like no other experience. It’s the crowds, volunteers, and other runners that set Boston apart. The course is tough and I always say I won’t do it again, but something brings me back to Boston. It’s the holy grail of races. It’s the oldest marathon, and it’s treasured and honored by the running community.
My last post on Boston will be on the events after my finish and those quiet days after marathon Monday.
Morning, So proud of you, you are my inspiration. Love you