Here is her race report.
Boston 2014
It's hard to know where to begin to
recap my Boston experience. After
qualifying last year in February in Myrtle Beach, the events that took place at
the 2013 Boston Marathon changed everything.
It was devastating and tragic for so many, and in the months following,
as I became more determined that I wanted to run in 2014, so did many
others. When I learned that I had gotten
a coveted slot, I was honored. I spent
the next several months training harder than I've ever trained before.
In early 2014, training was going
well. I raced a 15K and a half marathon,
and I logged respectable times in both – PRs for me anyway. In March, I got a new pair of running shoes (same
brand/model as the ones I've been wearing for 10 years) and immediately started
having pain in my left knee. I went back
to my old shoes, but for a while the pain got worse. I had runs where I was nearly in tears, and I
even skipped a few runs, which, if you know me, indicates that something is
very, very wrong. I was worried. I was advised to roll, stretch, do some
specific strengthening exercises, and wear a knee strap. I did this religiously (every damn day) until
the day I left for Boston, and as I increased mileage, the pain was gradually
easing, so I knew I was on the right track.
I bought new shoes (same brand/model), and the knee kept improving. By the time Boston rolled around, I had no
knee pain at all. Lesson learned –
sometimes a pair of shoes is a total dud and will fuck you right up. Weird but true. Dear Adidas, I still love you and don't hold
grudges.
When race weekend arrived, I felt
ready. Ashby, the kids, and I flew to Boston
on Saturday morning. It was the first
time on an airplane for both of my kids, and my first challenge was pretending
I wasn't scared out of my mind. Fun fact
about me – I HATE to fly. However, I
totally played it off like I didn't believe we were about to go down in a fiery
crash the entire 1.5 hours we were on the plane, so yeah, mission accomplished. When we arrived, we checked in at the hotel
and headed right out to the expo. This
was complete madness. We took a bus and
two trains and waded through mobs of people, ate a quick lunch, waded through more
mobs of people, got my race packet, bought some goodies at the expo, waded
through more mobs of people, met Dean Karnazes, couldn't find the exit from the
expo, waded through more mobs of people, and took two trains and a bus back to
the hotel. That was everything we accomplished on our first day in Boston, and
I was so exhausted I felt drugged. I
began to question my endurance but instead ate dinner and fell asleep before my
children, who are only 7 and 9. Here's
hoping they didn't watch anything inappropriate on hotel TV!
The next day we toured Boston on an
Upper Deck Trolley Tours bus. We bought
three-day passes, which allow the ticket holder to get on and off any of the
company's tour buses along their routes all over the city. It turned out to be money well spent, as we took
advantage of the buses for sightseeing all three days (saving my legs for the
race) AND used it for transportation from the race finish back to the door of
our hotel. Score! After our day of sightseeing, I got all of my
race stuff organized and went to bed at a reasonable hour, even though I knew I
would be able to sleep in on race day.
Boston has an unusually late start, and my wave (wave 3 of a 4 wave
start) wouldn't start until 11:00 a.m. It
was not a restful sleep, and I was wide awake long before the alarm went
off. Boston is kind of like Christmas
morning for runners. At 6:45 I ate my
first small meal – a bagel and peanut butter.
Then I took a leisurely shower to relax and got ready to head out. At 7:45, I caught the shuttle from my hotel to
Boston Common, where the runners loaded onto buses to ride to the start in
Hopkinton. The whole process was
extremely organized and efficient. We
were supposed to board buses between 8:00 and 8:30, and the buses pulled out
shortly after 8:30.
We arrived in Hopkinton at the
Athlete's Village around 9:30, and I walked in to find massive tents with
athletes lounging around on blankets and such.
The whole place sort of hummed with nervous energy. The outside perimeter was lined with
portapotties, and the lines stretched back to where they all met in the
middle. After an hour on the bus, a
bottle of diet Sunkist, and my second small meal, I definitely needed a
bathroom break, so I hopped in line. By
the time that was over, it was after 10:00, and it would only be a short time
before my wave and coral was called to start walking toward the start line
(about .07 miles down the road). It was
already getting warm – so much so that I tossed my throwaway blanket and jacket
early. As we started toward the corals
at 10:30, I had a gel and water – my last bit of nutrition before the start (I
would eat 6 more during the race, one every 4 miles). Even on the walk to the start, people in
Hopkinton were out spectating along the route.
One family had a tent set up in front of their house, giving away free
safety pins, Vaseline, Gatorade, sunscreen, water, etc. to any runners with
last minute needs. Waiting in the coral,
my adrenaline was pumping, and my heartrate was way above normal. I could hardly believe the moment was here,
and the race was about to start. I
pinned my SPI belt to my shorts to prevent it from riding up and tucked my cell
phone into the pouch in the small of my back.
I spent a long time figuring out logistics, deciding what to wear and what
to carry. I wanted to travel as light as
possible. Besides the small belt, I was
carrying 4 gels in Fuelkeepers on my wrists, 1 gel in the back pocket of my
top, a gel in one hand, and a small handheld water bottle in the other. I checked to make sure everything was in
place, and we were off . . .
First of all, I have to note that I
had a race plan – a very good, workable race plan, given to me by my coach,
whom I trust 100%, and I had every intention of following it. Similar to the plans for the 15K and half
marathon earlier in the year, the plan was to start out in a lower heartrate
zone and work up – in other words, don't go out too fast, don't burn out,
negative split the race, and feel pretty decent doing it. In fact, in previous
races, I had given up looking at various fields on my garmin and just looked at
heartrate. The rest, I believe, falls
into place, and I don't need times, paces, and distance cluttering up my
mind. But here's the thing . . . and
yes, I know these words are inevitably followed by excuses, so brace yourselves
. . . I failed to take into account a couple of things. One, I am normally a very inside my own head
runner. I tune out the world around me,
put my head down, and run. And two, I
have done every single one of my training runs since last fall on the
treadmill. Logistically, this is just
what works in my life. I have small
children, so I need to be home and/or get my runs done before the sun comes up,
AND, as sick as most people think it is, I love running on my treadmill. But here's the catch – Boston is an insanely
amazing and awe-inspiring event, and rather than being in my head (or paying
close attention to the numbers on my garmin) I was taking in and appreciating
every sight and sound on the course, high-fiving like a lunatic, chit-chatting
with fellow runners – EXPERIENCING the race, not just running it. In addition to that, I had no real experience
adjusting my heartrate for hills. Heartrate training works so well on the
treadmill because you can lock into a zone and cruise, which translates well
when running a relatively flat race course.
Boston, you may have heard, is not exactly a flat course. ALL of this lame excuse-making is to say . .
. that the race plan didn't exactly fall into place. Honestly, I did attempt to slow down when I took
time to notice I was out of my zone, but I didn't do a great job, and a huge
part of me just didn't care. I was
having the time of my life!
This is the part where I would want
to give a play-by-play of what happened for the next 26.2 miles. I wish I was one of those detail-oriented
people who can take note of what's happening at every mile marker on the
course, but I'm not. Most races I don't
notice much of anything except what's in my head. Boston was different. Spectators lined the course almost from start
to finish. While I still may not have
noticed street names or neighborhoods or towns, what I did see and feel was the
spirit of the people. It's hard to
explain, but it was overwhelming in a way that made me feel like my heart was
going to burst – and not in the way that you feel your heart is going to burst
just because you're in the midst of running 26.2 miles. I was very much outside of my head and filled
with emotion. I am humbled and deeply
grateful to have participated in such a historic race, and yet people kept thanking me for being there. People were cheering for me and congratulating
me on my accomplishment (not just during the race – all weekend), but it felt
more like a gift I was receiving to be included. In that sense, there is no race that
compares, or probably will ever compare, to Boston 2014. Bucket list race, for sure; everything I
thought it would be and so much more, without a doubt.
Of course, there is the other sense
– the technical, running/racing aspect – the nitty-gritty details of it. In THAT sense, it was really, fucking
hard. No question, I did not help myself
by not following my race plan to the letter, but I still was not prepared for
those wicked downhills! I don't mind
uphill. Heartbreak Hill did not break my
heart or thrash my quads – it was the downhills that did that. The course is net downhill. It rolls back uphill here and there, and
everyone talks a lot about Heartbreak Hill between mile 20 and 21, but the
uphill generally felt like a relief to me because it called on some new and
different muscles. The downhill, on the
other hand, was punishing and seemingly never-ending. Even in the first few miles, I felt it and
knew it was probably going to be problematic.
Around mile 5, I also felt the menstrual cramps kick in. (Side note: anyone who knows me well knows
this has been an issue for me for . . . just about ever. Anyone who knows me really well knows this issue
tends to kick in just in time for every big racing event in my life, including
the middle of the night before my first marathon in Chicago in 2005, the night
before my first iron distance tri in Wilmington in 2011, and the morning of
Boston 2014.) While unpleasant, it was
the least of my cramping concerns on this day.
Around mile 12, I remember thinking that I wasn't even halfway done with
the race, and my legs were just about fully done. At the top of Heartbreak Hill, there was a
giant sign that read "your heartbreak is over", but as we started to
head downhill again, I was afraid it had just begun. According to my race plan, I was supposed to
take it up a notch and race the last 10K, but it was all I could do to keep my
legs moving at that point. Another sign in Newton read, "Training got you
to Newton. Heart will carry you to
Boston." But it wasn't my heart; it was the heart of Boston –
the crowd carried me through to the finish.
The last miles were like nothing I've ever seen, and the cheering on the
last stretch on Boylston was absolutely deafening. The last mile was one of the hardest and most
inspiring miles I've ever run. It's an
odd sensation to want something to end and want it never to end so badly all at
the same time.
After crossing the finish line, the
volunteers shuffled people through to pick up medals, water, etc., but every
one of them made a point of thanking the runners for being there - thanking us,
as they tended to our every need . . . volunteers are amazing! I was
making my way down the runners only area so I could exit and meet Ashby and the
kids at our designated meeting spot. I
knew my body was spent. It had been warmer
than expected, my legs were barely functional, and I felt a little dehydrated,
but I figured I would walk it off. As I
bent down to throw an empty bottle away, my calf cramped up so badly that I
collapsed onto the ground and couldn't get up.
Next thing I knew, volunteers had swooped in and put me in a wheelchair,
and I was heading for a medical tent. As
we turned off of Boylston, my only thought was – I'm going to get all turned
around and not be able to find our meeting spot. So I started asking for directions, sort of
hoping I could just get a wheelchair ride to the corner of Boylston and
Arlington. No such luck J
But I managed to stretch out my calf after a few minutes and decided to
walk away on my own rather than proceed into the medical tent. When I spotted Ashby and the kids through the
crowd, that's when I felt the tears start to come. The emotions of the entire experience washed
over me. I truly left it all out there,
and I can't think of a better place or better people to leave it with.
Boston by
the numbers - my garmin registered 26.55 miles instead of 26.2 for some reason,
but the splits broke out like this:
Mile 1 – 8:09
Mile 2 – 7:56
Mile 3 – 7:55
Mile 4 – 7:44
Mile 5 – 8:18
Mile 6 – 7:49
Mile 7 – 7:47
Mile 8 – 8:02
Mile 9 – 7:48
Mile 10 – 7:56
Mile 11 – 8:06
Mile 12 – 7:59
Mile 13 – 8:06
Mile 14 – 7:49
Mile 15 – 8:07
Mile 16 – 7:58
Mile 17 – 8:17
Mile 18 – 8:37
Mile 19 – 8:11
Mile 20 – 8:45
Mile 21 – 8:45
Mile 22 – 8:01
Mile 23 – 8:24
Mile 24 – 8:22
Mile 25 – 8:30
Mile 26 – 8:18
Last .2 or .55 – 7:30
Official time – 3:35:47
