My friend Jim Sowders said this Saturday night after attending the Red Sox game in Boston.
This is the place all runners dream of reaching. They just don't usually dream it will be close to 90 degrees. But the marathon is like life and life is like a marathon, it's about the journey. You lay out a plan and then you are thrown a curve, you have to just try to foul it off.
If you followed this blog leading up to Boston, then you saw all the warnings–scary at times–about the heat that would happen during the 116
th Boston Marathon. I have had some really bad experiences in the heat, ending up in the medical tent twice and in the
hospital once. I was paying close attention to the forecast and made the adjustments to my goal of re-qualifying. The new goal: live to run another day.
We arrived Friday afternoon and were picked up at the airport by Mary, a sister to my nephew’s wife. Mary lives in Boston with her husband, a researcher at Harvard, and their precious little daughter, Harper. We stayed in a nice guest apartment in their building in Cambridge, near a subway stop. The place was great! It was three times the size, and half the price, of hotel rooms. Perfect!
We just rested Friday night. Saturday Gregg and I went for an easy 3 mile run to downtown. He gave me a bit of a running tour of Boston. We stopped at the finish line. I felt the need to take my shoes off; it felt like holy ground. Not wanting to embarrass anyone, I left my shoes on and we moved on.
After a little time of hydration and carbo-loading, Kedra and I made our way, via public transportation, to the Expo. When I walked in, it really hit me. I was in Boston to run the marathon I have dreamed of running for a long, long time. I guess I was allergic to something in the room, because my eyes got all watery. OK, I admit it, I felt like crying. It has been a long, long journey for me – just to get here.
The crowd was huge. I’m not a big fan of that, so I got my packet and grabbed all the free stuff that I wanted. We went back to the room for more hydration and carbo-loading. My running buddies started arriving at the airport, so there was a lot of communication going on. Jim suggested going to Fenway for a Red Sox game. Good idea!
I made my way to Fenway to wait on Jim. I watched ticket "brokers" working the crowd. The game was sold out and tickets were going anywhere from 60 to 100 dollars, which was a lot more than I wanted to pay. Jim was delayed, and finally he, along with Tim and John, arrived. Jimmy started working his famous magic. Long story short: we got into a sold out game with $20 tickets from the "Will Call" window. It was really neat being in Fenway, which is celebrating its 100
th anniversary.
Sunday we got up and went to an 8:30 church service with Gregg, Mary and Harper. We went to a church right downtown, so we took in some more sights and sounds of Boston on marathon weekend. After church it was more hydration and carbo-loading. Then we met up with my friends, with the exception of the Millers and Rand. We found a great Italian restaurant in the Italian section of Boston and enjoyed a great meal together. After a trip to the famous Mike’s Pastry and Bill Rogers Running Store, we went back to hydrate and carbo-load some more. It was marathon eve, and I slept well.
Marathon morning! Up at 4. Say it with me: hydrate and carbo-load. On the subway at 6 a.m. to Boston Common. There I met with Bill, Jim, Tim, Wendy, and John. Kathy and Robin would come later and catch a different bus. We estimated that it would take about 400 bus trips to get everyone to Hopkinton, 26 miles out. They brought wave after wave of busses to haul the runners. It was neat to see. The bus ride was long but enjoyable.
The runner’s village was the school complex in Hopkinton. It was well-organized. There were 100s and 100s of porta potties, all with lines. There were food tents everywhere, and runners staked little claims, mostly in the shade. The sun was up and hot! We had more than an hour to wait, so we just took it all in, laughing and talking.
The Millers, Jim, and Bill were in the first wave and first to be called to the start. Before they left, the six of us, and another guy, joined hands and had a prayer for a safe and successful trip back to Boston. We said good-byes and parted. John and I were left there for a few minutes, waiting for our call. John and I qualified together at Monumental, so it was nice that we started together as well.
When we were called to the start, I was immediately struck by how hot the sun was. We had been in the shade, and the temps were in the 70s. It didn’t feel too bad, but once in the sun, I knew it was going to be a long, hot day for a guy who doesn’t do heat very well. Gotta be smart today. "Run like Einstein," Dan Dyke told me. Good advice, so I pulled my hair out sideways. I guess that’s what Dan meant?
We got in our corral, and the loud speaker blared words that were not memorable. I remember thinking, "it’s hot." The gun fired and we began the shuffle to the start line. "I’m running the Boston Marathon!" I thought to myself and then said it to John. My joy, while not taken away, was quickly pushed aside as I started sweating early. It was hot, and I had not trained for the heat. How could I during the winter?
After about 2 miles, averaging an 8:14 pace, I was already concerned that, if not careful, I would not finish and would end up in the medical tent or the morgue. None of those appealed to me, so very early I went into survival mode. I didn’t expect to have to do this so soon, but it was hot and I could get in trouble fast. "Walk the water stations and walk the hills." Normally that would be totally unacceptable, but not today. I must admit it bothered me a lot, but I
had to do it.
I also decided to enjoy the crowd and the experience, as many had advised me to do. I normally don’t high-five people during a marathon, but I did it early and often, especially with little kids. It was fun. I made it through the 10K mark at 55.32, but I kept slowing down as the temps went up and up. The promised wind was not present, or at least I never felt it. The heat was brutal.
Doubts filled my mind early and often. I fought those demons for several miles. I felt like I was in trouble around 8 or 9 miles, and the voices shouted, "How do you think you can go another 18 miles like this??" I answered, "One mile at a time, one mile at a time. Slap some hands and smile at the wonderful people who have lined this beautiful course." Good ideas.
The next thing I know I am headed toward Wellesley College. It’s famous on marathon day for its screaming girls who invite the runners to kiss them. I had told Kedra earlier that I might just kiss a girl, an ugly one of course. She said, "OK, as long as she is ugly." I will not define "ugly," since that is a subjective thing and could possibly offend some of you.
As I went by the line of 100s of screaming girls, many holding signs that say, "Kiss me I’m a nerd," I started looking for one that fit my criteria. "OK, there’s one!" I pulled over to the fence and made eye contact with her. I leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. She looked at me and got a terrified look on her face. I’m not kidding! She made some verbal expression of disgust as she backed away from the fence. Rejected! Fortunately her partner said something like, "I’ll let the old ugly guy kiss me." A peck on the cheek from me and one back from her, and I was on my way again. I must admit that the kiss didn’t do much for me. Probably made her life, though, so it was worth it.
The Newton Hills loomed large, and I finally arrived. They were long and hot. Encouraging crowds made them manageable. I never dreamed of walking Heartbreak Hill, but I did. Sad but necessary. I was concerned because I had stopped sweating and was getting cold chills. These are both bad, bad signs. I kept taking Endurolytes, Gatorade, and water. I poured cup after cup of water on my head, gasping every time.
I think the one thing that saved me was ice. Lots of people had ice on the course. I would put it in my hat and keep some in my mouth as much as possible. I think I freaked one little boy out. He had a couple of plastic bowls of ice, holding them out. I think his intention was for runners to take a piece of ice out of the bowl. I came up and took the bowl! I heard him say in a desperate way, "Mom!" I shouted back over my shoulder, "Sorry!"
Right before Heartbreak Hill, John and I connected again. We started together but got separated after about 2-3 miles. I was in survival mode and didn’t want to mess him up in any way. He came up from behind me, so I guess I had passed him somewhere. We worked together for a while, but he was cramping really badly. He insisted several times that I go on, so finally I did.
From mile 22 or so, I started feeling "good" again and ran fairly well down the hills. I loved the Boston College students, 1000s of them lined the course and were screaming encouragement. I high-fived dozens and dozens of them. As I got to 24 miles, I felt like I was in major trouble. "NOT NOW!"
I managed it the best I could, fighting off cramps and nausea. There were a few other runners littered off to the side, looking like they were dying. One guy had an oxygen mask on and was surrounded by medics. "Look away!"
Citgo sign! Fenway Park! Not much further. Hotter and hotter it seemed to me in the city. I was a little over a mile from the finish and was beginning to wonder again. "Am I going to make it?" I walked and wobbled a little. Another runner said, "Are you OK?" "Yes." Push on. Pray some more. I did lots of both all day long.
I finally made it to Boylston Street and turned toward the finish line. Wow, it still seemed like a long way away. I got to mile 26 - just .2 to go. There was a guy collapsed right by the 26
th mile marker, surrounded by medics. So close! I didn’t want to be that guy, and I wasn’t. I heard Kedra shout my name! My eyes filled with tears.
I ran across the finish line and was caught by a worker. I had trouble standing but did not want to go to the medical tent. He or she walked me to another person who walked me further. He or she passed me to another. I finally said, "I think I’m OK." And I was.
I was crying at this point. I was just totally spent in every possible way. My sunglasses hid my emotion pretty well. I composed myself and went over the medal table. A nice lady carefully placed my finish medal over my hat and around my neck and congratulated me. She might as well have been the head of the International Olympic Committee. I felt so honored and thanked her, reaching out to shake her hand. I turned away and cried some more and wobbled down the long chute.
As I turned the corner toward the exit, I ran into Bill. He was waiting on Jim to get released from the medical tent. Jim and Bill ran relatively well in the heat. Bill told me where the Millers were, so I made my way there. It was there that I also reunited with Kedra. I hugged her and held on, sliming her up with nasty sweat and lots of tears of joy and relief that were flowing again. It was a long hug that was appropriate for the long journey that we have both been through. She has supported me all the way. I am so blessed.
Eventually we were all united. Eight of us from our running group qualified, and 8 of us finished. Our times were slow and ugly, but everyone knows that’s OK. We hung around for a little while and then made our way back to the train and the apartment. I felt pretty rough for a while, but got better in time to go to bed.
My 4:52 was the slowest road marathon ever, by far. I qualified at 3:31:48 and felt like I was in good enough shape to do that or even better at Boston, if the temperature had been in the normal range of the 50s. The course was hilly, but I had trained on the hills and was ready. Heat is a killer for runners. The two favorites both dropped out. Kedra watched the TV coverage and thought she heard that 16 elite runners dropped out. Thousands of people ended up in the medical tents. Hundreds were taken to hospitals. A few were in critical condition. It was one of the hottest Boston Marathons in its 116 year history.
Amby Burfoot of Runner’s World wrote this:
Congratulations, Boston Marathoners. On Monday, you proved why you are a special group of runners. You were tough enough to qualify for Boston, the world’s pre-eminent marathon. And then, facing conditions completely unsuitable to marathon running, you proved that you were flexible enough to adjust your plans. You listened to the advice of everyone from the Runner’s World staff to the Boston Marathon’s medical advisors, and you changed your race plans.
You didn’t run fast. You ran smart. And that is the greater of the two.
It probably wasn’t much fun at times, especially in the middle of the course where the temperature soared into the high 80s, and you still had 15 miles to go. You must have felt a certain dread at that point. Your feet were burning and you were drenched with sweat and cups-o-water over the head. But you slowed a little more, kept shuffling along, and ran your way to Copley Square one mile at a time. You were brilliant.
I’m not sure about being brilliant, but I feel satisfied and honored to have participated. As we were leaving the airport in Boston yesterday, the woman announcing the boarding procedure said, "Congratulations to all the Boston Marathon finishers!" All the people in the sound of her voice applauded. My eyes welled again.
I think I might have to do this again . . .
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| John Heatherly, Bill Deckard, me, Jim Sowders, Kathy Hammel, Robin Day, Wendy Miller, Tim Miller |
