115th Boston Marathon
April 18, 2011
Let me start by saying that this may go down in the books as the most amazing race that I have ever run. I have barely typed a sentence and I am already getting chills thinking about it!
Back with a Vengeance
I was returning to Boston to not only run the marathon for the second time, but more importantly, to even up the score. When I ran Boston in 2009 for the first time, I easily got caught up in the excitement: psyched to qualify just four months prior, thrilled to be accepted just days before registration filled up, satisfied with my training (despite coming off four months of training for my BQ race), and ecstatic to be in corral 1 of wave 2 (meaning I would line up right at the start line for the race and for a brief moment feel like an elite runner). But I must admit, all of this excitement got the better of me – despite reading books and articles about the do’s and don’ts of running Boston. So in 2009, I went out there, made all the rookie mistakes, and let the course beat me down. Despite a rough journey from Hopkinton to Boston, I fell in love with the race: the course, the spectators, the joy of everyone privileged to be running, and ultimately, crossing the finish line on Boylston Street. Two years later, I was headed back to Boston to show the course that I was ready to take it on – and with a vengeance.
Fast forward to the 2011 Boston Marathon . . . I was psyched to be accepted into the race, since registration had closed in just over eight hours. In addition, I was lucky enough to have two good friends, Nicole and Sam, also running Boston. Nicole and I trained together in Park City throughout the winter, logging in long runs at high-altitude on snow-packed trails and hitting the indoor track when mountain storms made outdoor runs a little too logistically challenging. Sam and his wife were kind enough to open their NH home to me, Nicole, and our husbands for marathon weekend so we wouldn’t have to fight crowded hotels in downtown Boston. As Marathon Monday approached, I felt surprisingly relaxed and prepared for the race. Ideally, I would have logged more miles each week, done more speed work and strength training, taken a yoga class now and then to stay loose . . . but time was much more limited during this training season due to other life circumstances and demands. Rather than let myself stress about the “what ifs,” I accepted the fact that I had trained as best I could given everything else going on. As much as I wanted to run a fast time (my inner competitiveness never seems to quit), it was more important for me to run a smart race, enjoy the experience, and appreciate the fact that I was part of the 115th Boston Marathon. On Sunday night, I had the typical pre-race jitters, but nothing that kept me from getting some solid beauty sleep.
Race Day
You could feel the adrenaline and excitement early on Monday morning as Nicole, Sam, and I – along with our ever supportive spouses and Sam’s daughter – got ready to head to Hopkinton. I love the fact that runners look forward to waking up at a ridiculously early hour to run a race. We snapped a quick photo, piled into the Tahoe rental, and hit the road. En route to Hopkinton, we spotted a car with a 26.2 decal in the window; the driver was clearly running the marathon that morning. We gave him a friendly honk and wave as we drove by; you would have thought our car was a bus full of elementary school kids!
Our support crew dropped us off at the State Park about 20 minutes before the road closed. I hit a minor snafu there: my gear-check bag completely tore along the seam. Apparently other runners were dealing with the same issue (maybe due to the cold weather, who knows). I am typically prepared to deal with any potential issue (e.g., tissues, bandaids, hair tie, extra contact lenses . . . yes, I did say contact lenses!) but I sure hadn’t thought to bring duct tape. But some local Hopkinton residents saved the day – they had a tent set up near the start with all sorts of free items that runners might need: duct tape, sharpies, sunscreen, banana bread. I also took advantage of the sharpies and had someone write my Boston theme word on my wrist: GRIT. When things got tough in the race, I wanted to dig deep and use grit to power me through. (The day after the race, I even saw a Boston Adidas ad with the word grit. Love it!)
It was a chilly, windy morning at the Athletes Village. We secured a spot in the sun and laid out garbage bags to sit on. We had contemplated bringing a cheap blow-up air mattress or swim raft, but finding one had proven to be too much trouble. Summer goods hadn’t quite hit the stores in New England! Fortunately the ground had dried out, despite a ton of rain from the day before, so our trash bags worked just fine. The Athletes Village is quite a sight, seeing thousands and thousands of runners trying to stay warm, wearing everything from garbage bags to warm-up track suits to pajama pants and bathrobes. Even though the race didn’t start for two hours, the time seemed to fly by. You could feel the excitement in the air, knowing that everyone had trained hard for the past few months and we all shared the same goal of crossing the finish line at Boston, regardless of what pace or finish time we were shooting for.
I attempted to see the female elites start at 9:32 AM, but the crowds were too thick to get a decent view by the time I made my way towards the start line. I barely saw the backs of their heads before the gun went off. Oh well, at least I tried! I found Nicole when I dumped my gear-check bag and we headed to the start. This was her first Boston and I knew that she was going to do great – and she did! She introduced me to a friend she had met through the Runners World forum, Erin (a.k.a. Kansas Girl). Erin was only planning to run the first half of the race because she had stopped training back in February due to taking the bar exam, and she wasn’t feeling prepared for the entire 26.2 miles. She was one corral ahead of me but asked if she could run with me, which I certainly didn’t mind. It would be nice to have a pace buddy, and if we needed to part ways at some point, so be it.
And We’re Off!
We piled into Corral 3 and the gun went off five minutes later. It was a little surreal, thinking that I was about to start my second Boston Marathon. I soaked in the crowds in Hopkinton and almost got choked up as I saw the sea of runners ahead of me. I am always moved seeing a crowd of runners start a race; I saw a documentary a few years ago about a few folks training for the Chicago Marathon and had tears streaming down my face when the film showed the start of the race. The magnitude about what all of these individuals are about to attempt cannot be understated. It’s moments like this that keep me coming back to run a marathon.
We hit the first mile marker in a little over 8 minutes, which was a good sign – in 2009, I went out way too fast and ran my first few miles at a 7-minute pace, which definitely hurt me later in the race. Erin and I increased our pace a bit and I had a good system of navigating around other runners, without pushing the pace too much. I felt really good: strong legs, easy breathing, and taking in the crowds. I hit the 5K mark at 23:59, a 7:43 pace, which was about where I wanted to be. I was using a pace band calibrated for the course and was already under the targeted pace, but not by too much. I wanted to run the first half conservatively so that I would have plenty left for the second half, which is considerably harder. Erin and I had a fun time high-fiving kids along the way. It still amazed me to see how many spectators were out there, cheering all of us runners on. The course is literally lined with crowd support for the entire 26.2 mile stretch.
I had picked up the pace to 7:39 when I hit the 10K mark, but was still feeling really strong. I kept navigating the crowded pack but held back the urge to sprint ahead. Even though the first half of the course is a net downhill, there were enough rolling hills thrown in to remind me to not to get carried away this early in the race. I passed a couple of Team Achilles groups along the way, including a blind runner being directed by two guides and a disabled wheelchair participant who was being pulled by volunteers and was clearly loving the view of the marathon pack. Talk about inspiring.
We hit the 10-mile marker and I thought, only 16 more to go. It was starting to warm up a bit, mostly because it was a clear blue bird day, and I wanted to stay hydrated. And finally, I felt like I had gotten the hang of drinking water and Gatorade without slowing down to a crawl or completely spilling it all over myself! I was soon approaching 12 miles, which signaled that we were close to the girls of Wellesley College. And boy, you could hear them from a half-mile away! The roar is incredible. I laughed at the signs encouraging runners to stop and share a kiss, and was even more amused to see Erin dodge to the side and find a lone, young male among the sea of screaming women to smooch. Nice!
I hit the halfway mark right around 1:40 and saw that I had banked about two minutes under the targeted time on my pace band. I figured I might need that extra time later in the race. At this point, Erin decided she was feeling too good to bail just yet, so she stayed with me for a few more miles, then peeled off shortly after the downhill dip at mile 16. Before splitting with me, she informed me that she had a feeling that I was going to have a great race – and went on to explain that she’s never wrong. It wasn’t just a pep talk. It was a reminder for me to stay strong, to trust my body, and to be prepared to dig deep when I needed to, especially in the final miles of the race.
Ah, the Newton Hills
The Newton Hills started at mile 17, and I checked off the first one pretty easily. I maintained an even pace and took advantage of the flat section that preceded the next hill. I could tell that folks around me were starting to struggle, but I stayed focused and fairly confident. Spectators were now 3-4 rows deep, and I could feel a little boost from my caffeinated gel, both of which helped. The second hill came and went. Two hills down, two to go.
The third hill is pretty crummy. Having run Boston twice now, I think it’s the hardest of the Newton Hills. It may in fact be the steepest (or not?), but mentally it’s the most challenging because you want it to be the last hill. But then the course throws Heartbreak in there, which has a tendency to leave many runners’ legs feeling like jello (mine included back in 2009). By hill 3, I was starting to feel a good amount of tightness in my outer thighs. In retrospect, a weekly yoga class would have come in handy at this point. I quickly pushed those “what if” thoughts out of mind and instead focused on keeping an even pace up the hills. I also kept reminding myself that these hills were nothing compared to the mountain roads in Park City, where Nicole and I logged in several long runs (at high altitude!) to get used to the long climbs. Within a few minutes, I had crested the hill, passing a number of runners along the way. I kept cruising at a good pace and started to get excited for Heartbreak Hill. I was dead-set on feeling strong on the last climb.
As I approached Heartbreak, I spotted a large flag of a skull and crossbones on the side of the course. I could not have asked for a better sign. I had skulls and crossbones painted on my toenails to remind me to stay tough, and if the weather had been cooler, I would have been sporting skull and crossbone arm warmers. There was no doubt in me that I was going to conquer Heartbreak Hill – and that I did! I cruised over a large chalk drawing of a broken heart and muttered “death zone” to myself (for Eddie!) when I hit the top. I had a bit of an adrenaline rush and checked in with myself; I was still focused and feeling pretty decent, despite some aching hips and legs that were a little more tired from the past few miles of hills. I felt like I had saved enough juice to power through the downhills over the next couple of miles, so I settled into a pace and told myself just to hold onto it.
Bring on the Grit
In 2009, my legs felt like jello and I was delirious when I hit mile 22 – I actually thought I was coming up on mile 23. Yikes, talk about hitting the wall. But this time around, when I passed by the cemetery, I scoffed at the so-called “Haunted Mile.” I was completely energized by the fact that I felt pretty good at this stage in the race: focused, maintaining a good pace, legs tired but no issues otherwise, and mentally strong. And most importantly, I was loving every moment of this race.
I kept telling myself to take each mile at a time. As my watch passed the three-hour mark and I had less than four miles to go, I checked my time against my pace band. At that point I knew that I was going to PR. There was not a doubt in my mind. Whatever happened between that point and the finish line, even if my legs suddenly gave out or I found myself fading, I was dead set on beating my previous PR of 3:28:40, which I ran at Marine Corps in 2009. I had gone into the race hoping to beat 3:30, but I wanted more than that. I pushed on and passed mile 23, and then mile 24. C’mon, two miles is nothing, it’s a short tempo run at this point, I told myself. At one point I glanced up and saw the Citgo sign, which in my mind is sheer evil because you can see it for more than a mile (and if you’re delirious it appears to move further away!) so I stopped looking up and just focused on running ahead. I would pick a runner and aim to stay with them, at times finding that I would end up passing them and other times finding that they were picking up speed. It didn’t matter in the end, since I was still below the targeted time on my pace band and psyching myself up to see Peter and the rest of our support crew at the turn onto Commonwealth. I passed mile 25 and started scanning the spectators, and started waving my arms and yelling when I saw them. I remember thinking, I sure hope they think I look really strong at this point! Because I sure felt good for mile 25 of a marathon! I flashed them a big smile. One mile to go.
There was one final dip and climb on Commonwealth before turning onto Hereford, which isn’t all that bad except for the fact that it’s near the end of a marathon. As I turned onto Hereford, it struck me that there was only one more turn before the homestretch to the finish line. For a few seconds, I closed my eyes as I ran and just soaked it all in. I could feel the energy from the spectators. I was about to finish the Boston Marathon.
I was starting to prep myself to pick up the pace for the final 0.2 miles as I turned onto Boylston, at which point I remembered how “far” away the finish line actually was. I laughed to myself about it, knowing I was running on tired legs and wanted to pick up the pace for at least the last few yards. So I just kept cruising along and then started pushing as I came within 100 yards of the finish. The spectator support was incredible and I threw up my arms as I sailed across the finish line, a huge smile on my face. I crossed the line and looked at my watch: PR!!! And by more than two minutes. My official finish time was 3:26:30.
Wow, I so want to do it all over again.
A Serendipitous Ending
Adorned by my medal and space blanket, I retrieved my bag and wandered over to the family meeting area. Nicole nailed her first Boston in 3:51 and Sam pushed through a tough race to finish in 4:40. Success! We celebrated with burgers (me and the boys) and lobster (Nicole) in Portsmouth that evening, along with some well-earned beers. I was also psyched to see that I came in 10th among Utah women and finished among the top 10% of all female runners.And to wrap up Boston 2011 . . . after enduring a long five-hour flight back to Salt Lake City, who do I happen to see in the airport but Kara and Adam Goucher. Kara had run her second Boston, less than seven months after having a baby, came in fifth, and PR-ed by more than a minute. I have run into my share of politicians and celebrities, but seeing Kara Goucher was the icing on the cake. I approached her and congratulated her on a great run and PR, then asked if she wouldn’t mind a quick photo. She was super nice about it and we chatted for a couple of minutes, debating whether we had felt the tailwind during the race. Her husband Adam was really friendly too. As my friend Nicole told me, I could not have scripted a better end to this entire experience.
Great first post!
ReplyDeleteKrystina, You are amazing ! Congratulations !!
ReplyDeleteAll the training you've put in and such success !
Can't wait to see you on DCA. So fun to read all about the race, I could feel the excitement.
Maggie