Boston Marathon 2014

Last year on the third Monday in April, Patriots' Day in Massachusetts,  I woke up wishing I was at the starting line for the Boston Marathon. Since I'd had a baby in 2012 I hadn't run a qualifying marathon so I would have to wait a year.  Little did I know the terror that would unfold that day in Boston.  I listened in horror to the news reports and phone calls I was receiving.  News of senseless acts of violence is always troubling but this one seemed so much more personal.  This was an attack on my sport and a race that I loved and was anxiously waiting to return to.  I worried about friends who were running the race.  I grieved with the people of Boston that a day which should have been one of celebration had turned darker than any of us could imagine.  My heart ached with the spectators, athletes and the city of Boston for those whose lives were changed forever that day.  Yet I knew immediately that I would be standing on the starting line in 2014.  There was no doubt in my mind that the world's greatest race would go on and I would continue to be a part of it.

Our family arrived in Boston Friday afternoon.  We had decided to bring the kids along this time to experience the thrill of the Boston Marathon and my mother-in-law came to help.  Everywhere we turned there were signs welcoming marathon runners to the city.  Boston Strong was plastered on road signs, store windows, sidewalks, and t-shirts everywhere we looked.  I think the only people more anxious than me for marathon day to arrive were the people of Boston.  We were treated as heroes walking the streets the days before the marathon in our jackets.  Waiting for dinner one night I felt a tap on shoulder, "Excuse me.  Are you running the marathon?"  When I answered yes, the man shook my hand and wished me luck.  The expanded field size (36,000 entrants as opposed to 27,000 in the past) made getting around the city with four children quite the experience.  Crowds of people were everywhere, waiting for dinner, at the expo, and especially on Boylston street trying to take pictures of the finish line.  Yet the masses were something we were all willing to put up with to be part of this historic race.  In spite of the inconvenience it seemed to add that much more anticipation to air as we awaited marathon day.

At the expo with our numbers- ready to go!

I had several people ask me why I wanted to run the marathon or if I was scared in the weeks leading up to the race.  A friend asked, if it was checked off my "bucket list" why go back?  Or if I have no chance of winning what is the point?  To me the Boston Marathon means so much more.  It is the spirit of overcoming difficulty to achieve something great.  Every runner there has a story of how they got there, many with much more inspiring stories than mine.  I've noticed both times I have run that at the end of the day no one, other than myself, cares how fast I ran.  The question is always simply, "Did you finish?"  Running the Boston Marathon is about the journey to get there and pushing yourself in a way that you never thought possible to achieve something great and that spirit lives in the hearts of over a million spectators that line the streets from Hopkinton to Boston.  And this year we were celebrating a city that had overcome so much in the past year to become greater than it ever had.

After some chilly days leading up to the race, marathon morning was sunny and beautiful.  It was Patriots' Day commemorating the start of the Revolutionary War in Lexington and Concord and the excitement in the air was almost tangible.  This was the day Boston was taking their race, their holiday and their city back.  We walked almost a mile to Boston Common at 6 a. m. and boarded a bus in the never ending line of school buses.   Even though the race didn't start until 10:00 it takes several hours to transport that many runners.  Since we were in the first wave we were some of the first runners to arrive at the athlete's village in Hopkinton.  We found a place in the sun on the grass to rest until it was time to head to the starting corrals. I laid down and pulled a blanket around myself to keep warm and imagined the perfect race.  Half an hour later I opened my eyes and thought I better make one last trip to the bathroom before we left the village and to my dismay the lines stretched all the way across the village.  It was hard to even walk with people sitting all over the grass.  I realized I would never get through the line in time so we headed to the exit instead hoping there would be some bathrooms closer to the start (and luckily there were.)  We had a three quarter mile walk to the starting corrals.  Jason figured with all the walking we would get close to 30 miles in for the day.  As we walked through the streets of Hopkinton the residents were all out on their front porches cheering us on before the race even started.  Some even had tables set up with sunscreen, Vaseline, water, and any other last minute things we might need.  We left all our sweats in piles of clothing being donated to charity since with the security measures this year there was no baggage check at the start.  I realized the temperature was warming up quickly and we were quite comfortable with only our tank top and shorts: not a good sign with 26 miles ahead.

Jason was assigned to corral one and I was in two based on our qualifying times.  I convinced him he should move back to two and start with me.  Based on the way our training had been going I thought we could run close to the same time and wanted to run at least part of the race with him.  After the star spangled banner, a flyover of military helicopters and an introduction of the men's elite field (the elite women had started half an hour earlier) it was time to start.  With 1,000 runners ahead of us in corral one it took us a full minute to reach the starting line.  We were running but it was difficult to control the pace.  The road was so packed with runners that the only choice was to run the pace everyone else was running.  The beginning of the race runs through more rural parts outside of Boston.  The towns were packed with spectators but in between the towns it was forested area and the only sound was thousands of footsteps hitting the pavement.  The road was filled with runners stretching in each direction as far as we could see and this was only the first wave of four to start.   I was afraid of losing Jason a couple times in the crowd but after a few miles it was spreading out just enough that we could keep our pace better.  We were running most of the miles in the 6:30s with a few downhill ones in the 6:20s.  I had put our names on the tank tops we were wearing and soon spectators in the towns were cheering for us by name.  The crowds didn't disappoint at all.  They were there in bigger numbers and louder than ever.  Kids were offering high fives, cups of water, popsicles and licorice.  Jason quickly noticed that every time we got to a town and the crowds were cheering loudly we would start to speed up.  We tried to be more mindful of our pace and not go too fast.  We were hitting all our 5K splits just a few seconds over 20 minutes, just where we wanted to be.  We knew we would need to save some energy for the hills in the second half.  We hit the halfway point at 1:26:12.  We were on pace to run in the low to mid 2:50s if we didn't slow down too much on the hills.  The temperature was getting hotter though.  We were taking a lot of water and the crowded water stops were slowing us down a bit but we had to stay hydrated.  As we moved into the second half of the race and closer to the city the throng of spectators just kept getting bigger.

Around mile 16 is where the Boston Marathon gets really tough.  That's where we hit the Newton hills.  While they may not be as big as some of the hills we run at home there are several significant climbs between mile 16 and 21 and it's late enough in the race that our muscles were getting tired.  We were both starting to hurt but knew we still had a long way to go.  I reminded Jason that everyone was feeling like we were at this point so let's just focus on one hill at a time.  We were able to keep our 5K splits around 21:30.  We had slowed down a little but that was expected.   It was really great to have each other to help through this tough part of the race.  The infamous heartbreak hill comes last  between miles 20 and 21.  If we can just get to the top, I kept thinking, we can just coast through the last five miles to the finish.  We arrived at the top together and I reached over and grabbed Jason's hand.  "We did it!  Let's go!" I said.  I was wanting to take off at this point but Jason was wanting to recover from the hills.  Jason told me to just go ahead of him.  At the time it felt like the right thing to do but later I regretted it.  Five downhill miles I was telling myself.  That's easy.  I took off and started passing other runners and Jason hung back a little trying to recover.  My plan worked great for a mile or two but suddenly with about three miles left I was running out of steam and I realized three miles was still a pretty good distance to go.  I'm not sure if it was the heat or just hitting the dreaded wall but I struggled through the last three miles.  Suddenly I wasn't passing anyone and I was just trying my best to keep up with the group around me.  It was hot.  It was the only warm day we had the entire week in Boston.  The temperature reached 68 degrees.  That might not seem too bad but in the spring when runners aren't used to the heat and with the later start time in Boston, it definitely became a factor in the race.  Meanwhile Jason had dropped back a bit.  At the 40K I had about a 30 second lead on him but he was wise enough to save a little for the end.

The crowds were amazing the last few miles to the finish.  They really carried me to the end.  I got to the last mile and was looking for my kids.  I was afraid I would miss them since both sides of the street were lined with people.  I knew I'd never hear them with the crowd so loud.  I turned the corner onto Hereford and was looking ahead to the next turn onto the final stretch on Boylston when I saw them, with cowbells and signs in hand, cheering as loudly as everyone else.  They had a great front row spot to watch and although they were on the wrong side of the street and it cost me an extra few steps I ran over to give them all high five. Then I turned onto Boylston street and with a little over 600 meters to go the finish line was in sight.  My body was totally done and it seemed like I would never get there but at the same time the feeling there was almost too much too describe. I didn't want it to be over.  The crowds in the grandstands were jubilant, enjoying this day of celebration the way it was meant to be.  Running down Boylston street I waved to the spectators with tears in my eyes.  I crossed the finish line in 2:55:22.  I turned around hoping Jason wasn't too far behind and saw he had crossed the finish line just a few seconds behind me.  He had a strong finish and almost caught up to me but through the crowd of runners neither of us had any idea we were that close or we would have crossed together.

I finished in 86th place in the women's race reaching both my goals of finishing in the top 100 and breaking three hours.  (The women's race was the biggest and fastest it's ever been with over 14,000 and a new course record as well as American record being set.)  It was 13 minutes faster than my previous time on the course.  Jason also beat his time on the course by five minutes.  It wasn't either of our fastest marathons, but I think it's the one I enjoyed the most.  A highlight of the day was finding out that Meb Keflezighi had become the first American to win the men's race since 1983.  I was slightly jealous that my kids got to see him win.  The excitement of an American finally winning Boston again just added to the festivity of the spectacular day.  What a great day for Boston!

I'm enjoying a little down time the last couple weeks as I've been recovering.  The trails I run on are gorgeous in the spring and it's a great time to just get out and run for fun without caring how fast I'm going.  Soon enough I'll be training hard again.  I'm running the Chicago Marathon in the fall with much loftier goals.  I'm hoping to break 2:43 and qualify for the 2016 Olympic Trials.  It's going to take a summer of intense training, even by my standards, and a perfect race in the fall for it to happen.  Yet, I feel like I'm so close that if I never try on a qualifying course I'll always wonder if I could have done it.  Boston taught me a lot.  Dreams really do come true and people can overcome the most tremendous obstacles if they just believe.