It's long, but that's fitting, because my race took too ****ing long.

Sometimes I like to write a race report ASAP, while everything is fresh in my mind.  Sometimes I prefer to let things percolate a bit because I’m not quite sure how I feel about it.  (And because I want to wait for photos to break up an endless block of text, but MarathonFoto is a hopeless cause so that isn’t going to happen right now.)

This was supposed to be my marathon retirement party.  But since I don’t really think marathons are “fun,” I can’t run one just to enjoy the experience; and because I chose a conservative goal to BQ in NYC in 2016, it wouldn’t be so ridiculous to get a PR now.  I mean, my knees and my ankles are falling apart but it’s not as if I have any idea what it’s like to run without everything hurting, so it shouldn’t make much of a difference.  I printed out two pace bands.

Course-specific, very conservative start.  Ideally, I would have used the 3:25 pace band for the first half, then switched to the 3:20 when I hit the Newton hills.  It sounds a little backwards.  But if 3:20 turned out to be too ambitious and I ended up having to stick with the 3:25, it wouldn’t have been the end of the world.

And then it turned out that the forecast was right; it was miserably cold, rainy, and windy, and I threw out the thought of 3:20.  I don’t do well in cold.  Especially not with a headwind.  At least I prepared adequately for the long wait — I had many throwaway layers, the crowning glory of which was my bright pink quilted jacket.

People were jealous.  I was warm.  (There was a black zip-up hoodie underneath that, because I remembered having to fish one out of the donation bin prior to the NYC Half.)

side note: Boston Marathon earrings

It was tough to make a decision on what to wear, because I knew I’d be cold and wet and miserable no matter what.  In the end, I think what I chose was perfect for me — I mean, it was still cold and wet and miserable, but I think I minimized that as much as I possibly could have.  (PPTC singlet over a long-sleeve base layer, compression tights, billed cap, headband [over the cap so the wind didn’t blow it off my head], cheap cotton gloves inside latex gloves, clear poncho.  My cotton gloves actually did get wet, but because the latex blocked the wind, my hands didn’t freeze.)

I was on an early bus to Athlete’s Village since Jana and I took an Uber from her sister’s place to the bus pickup spot together, and she was in Wave 1.  There was a bit of unnecessary excitement when our driver had to pull over onto the shoulder for a few minutes after what we thought was a blown tire.  Never figured out what it was, but we did eventually make it to Hopkinton.  We squashed our way into one of the tents, which looked like some sort of post-apocalyptic scene… people camped out all over the place on tarps and plastic bags.  On spongy, muddy ground that you could feel squelching beneath you (and there were so many people that I was practically sitting with my knees tucked under my chin, which said knees did not appreciate).  As time went on, the grass turned into more and more of a mud pit, and going to the porta potties on the perimeter of the field involved wading through what may as well have been quicksand.  I was very glad that I was wearing throwaway shoes and socks.

Cumulus 13 — the first shoes in which I ever got fitted.  Sadness.  I have no photo of my racing shoes, because I didn’t put them on until I left the field and went to the corrals, and my phone was back in bag check at the finish line.  In leaving said field, I stupidly attempted to climb up the little hill to the sidewalk.  What happens when you try to climb up a slippery muddy embankment is that you will fall and slide halfway to the bottom and then need to crawl your way back up.  Good think I was covered in plastic; all I had to do was stand in the pouring rain for thirty seconds and all the mud washed off.

After changing into dry socks and my 4%s (both of which were soaked within seconds), I headed to the start corrals.  I was in Wave 3, corral 1, so I had to run there to make it before the gun.  At least it meant there wasn’t much time left to freak out before we started running.  I was still wearing the clear poncho, along with a clear garbage bag and the zip-up hoodie underneath.

My mental playlist kept singing for the first time in forever, you’re doing Boston.  I may have felt a bit weepy because I couldn’t believe I had actually made it there.

I was determined not to be one of those people who goes out way too fast and trashes their quads for the hills in the second half — hence the “very conservative start” pace band.  I stuck to it pretty well, and the first half of the race went by pretty uneventfully.  If you call a monsoon uneventful, anyway.  It poured the entire time.  You would not think such heavy rainfall could continue unabated for so long, but it did, even turning into ice pellets at one point.  Once in a while there was a nasty gust of wind — and of course it was blowing from the east.

I got rid of the hoodie after about a mile, and the garbage bag not too long after that.  I hung on to the poncho in a valiant attempt to at least keep my core relatively dry and warm so that I didn’t fall victim to cold diuresis.  I had knotted it at the back so that it wasn’t quite so billowy and parachute-like, but I was willing to sacrifice some time to wind resistance in order to keep from becoming hypothermic.

I was also supposed to do a run/walk thing like in Jerusalem, because my knees were still bothering me, even though I got a cortisone shot in one of them a couple of weeks prior after sucking it up and dealing with the pain for a couple of months so that I could get one right before Boston.  But I didn’t plan to start implementing that strategy until a couple of miles in so that the herd could spread out a bit.  And then it was just too damn cold to stop to walk, never mind that half the time, it was so noisy that I couldn’t even hear/feel the alert; I just slowed to a recovery jog pace whenever I was able to hear it, which was probably less than half the time.

Around mile 6, I saw Jimmy and Nicole, and then Missy.  I had no idea they’d be there so early in the course, so that was a nice surprise!  In general, the crowd support in Boston is amazing.  I definitely could hear the Scream Tunnel from well over half a mile away, even in the nasty weather.  I can’t even imagine what it would be like on a nice day.

photo credit

This is somewhere between mile 14 and 15.  Everything was still clicking nicely along at that point.  Until mile 17, when the hills started.  That’s when I was supposed to switch to the more aggressive pace band.  Except in light of the conditions, and the fact that my knees ****ing hurt and hills make that worse, I decided to be more conservative until after Heartbreak Hill.  Everyone says the last five miles are downhill, so I was counting on making up some of that time then.  My watch, of course, was measuring ahead of the course, but I calculated that I could still afford to do this and come away with a PR.  Not sub-3:25, but a PR nonetheless.

I didn’t see Linda, but she got this photo right around mile 18.  The true suck hadn’t yet begun, I don’t think, because I passed the PPTC cheer station not too long after that (no photographic evidence of this), and I remember that I still had the presence of mind to be excited to see them.

I made it to the top of Heartbreak Hill a bit slower than I would have liked, but it wasn’t too bad; I definitely still had a PR within reach.  And it’s so exciting, because it’s supposedly all downhill from here!

Imagine being in that position and making the turn after cresting Heartbreak, only to be hit in the face with sustained 30 MPH headwinds that accompany you the rest of the way.  The last few miles are largely open on the runners’ left side, so the northeasterly wind was blowing right at us.

And the “downhill finish” is not exactly downhill.  Maybe it’s a net elevation loss, but it’s comprised of gentle rolling hills.  The NYC finish is similar, but I am familiar with the hills in Central Park (even if I hate them), so I know how to gauge the effort level required.  I was not expecting that here, and when combined with the freezing cold rain, the headwind, and my impossible knees and ankles, I just couldn’t fight it anymore.  The PR was getting smaller and smaller and then it pretty much slipped away; I could have had it until mile 25 or so.  I’ve heard that the Citgo sign is deceiving because you see it and get all excited, but there’s still more than a mile to go.  My quads weren’t really trashed from the early downhills, but my climbing these little rollers in the last couple of miles was making my hamstrings start to seize up.  (I know this happens to people a lot.  It has never, ever happened to me.)

There were mile markers, and there were markers every 5K.  I don’t know what the hell my mental math was doing, but somewhere around 35K my stupid brain had calculated that I could still squeeze out a PR if I kept my pace under 8:30.  (I couldn’t go by “keep your average pace at 7x, because my watch was measuring too long for me to rely on that.)  At 40K, I realized I had somehow miscalculated, and that I would have to run like hell to even have the slightest shot of making it.  I knew I would be infuriated if I missed by just one or two seconds, and since I was barely able to stagger in a straight line at that point, running like hell wasn’t likely to be happening anyway.  No PR for me.

Neither my brain nor my body were fully functioning, so I couldn’t really appreciate the historic “right on Hereford, left on Boylston.”  I do remember wishing that Hereford was a long stretch and Boylston was a short one rather than the other way around, because it’s such a tease to have the finish line at the end of a long straight road… down which I ran/hobbled while watching a sub-3:30 vanish before my eyes.

The finish line part of my adidas highlight film is a little frightening… I’m not sure I can call that running.  Just about the only positive thing I can say about it is that I’m not veering all over the place.

Found myself on the NBC stream — I’m standing on the “N.”  I stopped running a few steps after the second timing mat, and if I thought I was staggering before… I had been hurting while I was running, but once I stopped, it was like an instant barrage of excruciating agony.  My knees completely stopped working.  And the groin muscle that I aggravated a few days earlier (opening a bathroom door… don’t ask) was kind enough to keep quiet during the race, but it chimed in on this cacophony.  It’s always a good sign when a medic after the finish line offers you a wheelchair.

Which I turned down, because it’s not like they could have done anything for me anyway, and I was so damn cold that all I wanted was to get into some dry clothes.  It was a long, painful hobble to get my water, medal, heat sheet (poncho, whatever), food bag, and then finally reach the baggage tent.

Whereupon I stood and shivered with my teeth chattering because the volunteer couldn’t find my bag.  (“Are you sure it’s 16503?  All I can find is 16513.”  That… doesn’t really help me very much, and I’m going to die of hypothermia in about five seconds.)  When it finally showed up, I just could not wait in the endless line for the changing tent, so I changed in the baggage tent.  That heat sheet made a nice barricade.  And the inside of the clear plastic poncho that I had worn for the entire race gave me a somewhat dry surface to stand on while I went through the exquisitely painful process of getting out of my wet clothes and into dry ones.

I considered taking an Uber back to Jana’s sister’s place, but I would have had to walk a couple of blocks since so many streets were blocked off for the race.  I couldn’t bear the thought of that, so I just took the T since there was a station right there.  It took me nearly ten minutes to creep the half block back to the apartment after that.  Feeling sore and achy after a marathon is normal; I don’t mind that my quads are a little sore now.  But outright pain is not normal, and should not be par for the course.  Unless, I guess, you are me.

My Garmin, which measured way long, says I ran 26.52 miles in 3:30:37, 7:57/mi.

I can’t even.

Officially, 3:30:33, 8:02/mi.  8114 / 25746 OA, 1930 / 11604 F, and 1606 / 5783 F18-39.  I did come in ahead of my bib number, which was just a weirdly random thing I wanted to do, but that’s about the only thing I managed to accomplish successfully.

This is even more frustrating to me because I really don’t think 3:25 (or even 3:20!) is a reach goal for me.  And yet…

…I missed a PR by less than a minute.  It’s still a BQ, but it’s only a -4:27 buffer, and after last year, I’m not so sure that’s going to cut it.

Because even though I really wanted this to be my last marathon, I don’t want to go out on such a sour note; I want my last one to be a race of which I can be proud, and this one just brought home the fact that I suck.  The conditions may have been shitty, but lots of people did manage to PR, and I couldn’t pull that off even with those supposed magical shoes (which I think are a waste of money because they felt fine, and all, but so would a $100 shoe).  So, yes, I am disgusted and disappointed with myself even though I realize that this isn’t really a bad finish time.  It is much like all of the races I run lately: not terrible, but not great.  And frankly, I’m getting really, really sick of my own mediocrity.

Officially, 3:30:33, 8:02/mi.  8114 / 25746 OA, 1930 / 11604 F, and 1606 / 5783 F18-39.  I did come in ahead of my bib number, which was just a weirdly random thing I wanted to do, but that’s about the only thing I managed to accomplish successfully.

 

 

You could win a Nobel Peace Prize and find fault with it. lol

This is perhaps one of your more impressive performances given your disdain for cold weather. Even more so when the limited mileage is factored in because of injury. Truly remarkable.

I have never used the bag drop option for a marathon, sounds like it was a life saver...once they found your bag!

Will running Boston become an annual rite for you? Or do you want just one more crack at it to hobble walk away satisfied?

I think you ran well in those conditions but our own expectations are what matter...

I read a lot of complaints about the 4% not performing well in the rain.

I think you did great considering the awful weather (and your knees, of course, knee sister!)  And you BQd so you have to try and register when it opens, right?  RIGHT?

 

Congrats!  I know you said you were close to crying by the start, but did you cry by the finish (due to Boston, not to the weather?) I would've.

Much as I don't want to, yeah, I do have to.  If -4:27 is even good enough.  (And nope, I did not cry at the finish.  I always think I will and it has yet to happen.)

 

You could win a Nobel Peace Prize and find fault with it. lol

 

This is perhaps one of your more impressive performances given your disdain for cold weather. Even more so when the limited mileage is factored in because of injury. Truly remarkable.

 

I have never used the bag drop option for a marathon, sounds like it was a life saver...once they found your bag!

 

Will running Boston become an annual rite for you? Or do you want just one more crack at it to hobble walk away satisfied?

That depends... a Nobel for what??

As much as I hate the cold, that wasn't the biggest problem.  You can dress for cold, you can dress for rain (within reason, this was a bit extreme), but there's not a damn thing you can do about a persistent headwind.

IDK if it will become an annual thing for me -- if it is, I'm pressed to qualify every time I run it, and I don't want or need that kind of pressure.  I really, really wanted to retire and be done with it.

Nice RR blue!  I had to laugh though at your last paragraph.  Nothing like being hard on yourself as motivation for the next one.   All things considered, I think you executed the race (both preparations and during the race) really really well.  I'd say wearing that clear poncho took more out of you in the early miles than you thought, and you paid for it in the last 10k along with the headwind.  I think your splits would measure up to the best of anyone.  Most of the elites crashed and burned the final miles.  So, when / what is your next marathon?

You would think!!  Except that I'm always hard on myself, and fat lot of good it's doing me lately.  I've run nothing but "meh" races for ages.  I don't even remember what it feels like to run a good race anymore.  As for the poncho... I knew it would cost me something, but without it, I would have been even wetter and colder than I was, and that would have been infinitely worse because then I might not have made it to the finish at all.

I'd say Boston 2019, if I make the cutoff... though I'm toying with the thought of one in early December because I think part of the reason I suck at marathons is that I don't have enough experience with them.  I want a fast course so that I have a better shot of not feeling like crap about it.  CIM and Jacksonville both appeal, except that it gets really, really tiresome to have such a hard time finding food I can eat, and neither of those are in places that will make it easy.  Boston was hard enough; I definitely need to do a better job of that next time.

I think you ran well in those conditions but our own expectations are what matter...

I read a lot of complaints about the 4% not performing well in the rain.

They didn't not perform well, per se -- I was a little worried about the traction, but they were great in that regard.  And because the upper is so thin and lightweight, they drained very fast, so I wasn't sloshing around in them, though I'm not sure it would have mattered if I was, because everything was soaked everywhere.  I just didn't feel like they gave me an added advantage over any other shoe I might have chosen.  I'll have to give them another shot on a day with less horrible weather, but I don't think I buy into the hype.

 

It's in October, but Mohawk-Hudson River is a pretty fast marathon - about 2:30 faster than NYC.  Since it's in nearby Albany, you can probably take food with you.  But I'm guessing you're thinking December for a reason.

Yeah, I want something later because I feel like a fall marathon would cut too much into the summer season, and I have a lot of mile races to suck at then, which is hard to do with marathon "training."  (I guess I do have a weird advantage in that the only thing I do differently when preparing for a marathon is throwing in a couple of 18-mile long runs.  Everything else just stays the same.)

IDK if it will become an annual thing for me -- if it is, I'm pressed to qualify every time I run it, and I don't want or need that kind of pressure.  I really, really wanted to retire and be done with it.

Except, you do well under pressure.

I'm not really sure if congratulations will be appreciated or will just piss you off, but assuming the former, congratulations.

 

The weather situation sounds intolerable, but I am impressed with your clothing choices.  What you picked is exactly what I would have told someone to pick based on pseudo-scientific assumptions about what sucks less in rain compared to other options; but I've never actually raced or run that far in rain, so it's totally theoretical.  You lived it.  If I ever have to deal with this level of weather suck, now I know.

I learned a few things by doing a long run in a similar deluge!  One thing I would do differently next time (though FFS, I hope I never have to run a race in such weather again) is that I would have worn throwaway rubber boots instead of running shoes.  Before I realized exactly how cold it would feel, I worried that tights were too much, but since I prefer being too warm to being too cold, I decided to err on the side of caution.  And I am so, so, SO glad I did.  Except for the minor detail that it would have been easier to change out of compression shorts than compression tights.

 

Except, you do well under pressure.

My totally stellar 2018 thus far totally indicates that.    Really, I'm not referring to the race day pressure; it's aggravating, sure, but I can deal with that.  I mean the months prior when I'm a total basket case living in terror of breaking.  I always live in terror of breaking, but having something major on the line just makes it worse.  There is not enough Ativan in all the world for that.

I think you are being your toughest critic. Conditions sucked. Your body was likely working really hard to try to stay warm, which sucked the energy you would have liked to have used to run a a marathon. From what I read, conditions were such that it was a much bigger risk than usual to blow up & need to leisurely walk/jog it in. I think you ran a smart race.

Well, that is one thing at which I absolutely excel!  It's just sad that I really didn't go out too fast, but you can't even tell.  Looking at my splits, it was at mile 25 that a PR really got away from me, and I'm wondering if the fact that I skipped my last gel had anything to do with that.  (I usually take one every six miles or so, but it just involved so much effort to get to it, I couldn't bring myself to do it.)

A BQ under those conditions turned out to be impossible for a lot of elites, and most other runners, too.   When not injured, I have had to do runs in those conditions in the winter here so know them and frankly there is no way to perform really well.  Yet you not only did a BQ, but also put a scare in your PR.  Plus you stuck it out when a lot of folks bailed.  There's a lot to take away on the positive side.

Headwinds like that suck the life out of a runner in a hurry.  Even Desi mentioned that the wind nearly stopped her more than once.  I personally think that on a 44 degree, overcast, dry day with only a slight breeze that you would have a nice new PR on that same course.