There are a lot of Boston RRs and this is one you might want to skip.  Seriously.  No great accomplishments, no great drama; just another one in the books.  And much of this is old hat for you experienced Boston runners.  But if I write RRs for the good races, I should write about this kind as well.

 

There were three distinct elements of my weekend in Boston, so I’ll treat them separately: 1) meeting imaginary friends, 2) the “experience” of Boston (my first), and 3) running the race. 

 

IMAGINARY FRIENDS

DW and I decided to make this a mini-vacation and splurge a bit so we headed out early on Friday.  We were on the plane for the early flight from Richmond—still on the ground—and I was sitting there just about to doze off when I hear, “Is that Tramps?!”  I open my eyes and there’s Barb!  She and Ralph happened to be on the same flight out.  This was to be the first of many Masters meetings, which were definitely the highlight of the weekend.  In fact, I met more of my imaginary friends in one weekend than I have in the past 4 years!  You really are an impressive, inspiring, and funny bunch.  I enjoyed talking with many folks and only wish I’d had more time to do so.  It did make me miss some of the folks who post only over on KR, though.  I should get over there from time to time.

 

A great big thank you to Robin, Kirsten, Marj, Henry, Harriet, and Lou, who generously took the initiative to arrange various get togethers over the weekend.  I also got to spend an afternoon with an old Boston friend from grad school, which was great.  The social part of the weekend was stellar and DW and I thoroughly enjoyed our mini-vacation.

 

THE BOSTON EXPERIENCE

This is the first really big marathon I’ve done so it was interesting to see all the hoopla.  Runners in marathon jackets all weekend, constant media mentions of the marathon, Italian restaurants in the North End just swamped with runners the night before the race, etc.  Then on race day it was the whole bus from the Commons and “athlete’s village” experience.  I thought it was all very well organized but, to be honest, I think I prefer simpler, smaller races where I feel more focused on running rather than logistics and atmosphere.  There’s a whole money/marketing aspect to the big “event” races that I just don’t enjoy.  During a quick run through at the expo I was telling my DW, “It’s amazing how they can come up with so many products to sell for a sport that ought to be so simple.”  But that’s just me. 

 

Logistically, this isn’t how you’d set up a race if you were starting from scratch.  Hopkinton is just tiny and overwhelmed.  The guys next to me were keeping us laughing by making silly cow noises as we shuffled towards the start, past people’s houses. “Mooo!”  I kept thinking: these poor people who live here and have to put up with this mess every year!  The scale of the event just seems out of proportion to the tiny little residential neighborhood.

 

Running a big race is different in other ways, too.  First, I was always with a crowd.  Typically, I like to mentally latch on to someone up ahead and reel them in, check my pace to make sure I’m not going too fast, and then repeat.  When it’s this crowded, though, the runner ahead of you is 5 feet ahead of you, not 50 yards.  That whole approach doesn’t work.  Later, there are dozens, if not hundreds, of runners walking, which I found very demoralizing since I was hurting by that point too.

 

Second, in addition to lots of runners, there are lots of water stops.  Every mile has two separate water stops, left and right.  That means no worries about getting water but lots of jostling as people decide at the last moment to cut to the side for a cup or, in later miles, come to a dead stop once they grab their cup.  And there are cups strewn everywhere that you need to watch out for.  Sometimes it felt like I was up to my ankles in water cups.

 

Having said that, the crowds on race day are amazing.  They are huge and enthusiastic and as you come up over the crest of some hills you are hit with a breathtaking view of a thousand runners ahead of you and thousands more screaming spectators.  Crazy!  I was definitely smiling at the enthusiasm (the Wellesley screaming was loud but easily matched by the crowds at several other spots along the way), creativity (a half-dozen cheering kids bouncing incessantly on mini-trampolines!), and humor (a huge hand-made sign with an arrow pointing to “short cut”). 

 

Bottom line: I’m definitely glad I got to experience Boston.  It’s unquestionably worth doing once; no regrets.  But I’m not sure it’s a race I’d do again.  For me, crowds just aren’t that important and I think I prefer fewer distractions. 

 

RUNNING THE RACE

I never intended to run Boston hard.  I thought National in DC last month would be my target race and I’d focus on having fun in Boston.   At National, I stayed on pace through almost 23 miles but then got a bad hamstring cramp and missed my 3:30 goal.  But I was encouraged that—despite all the interruptions due to snow—my conditioning was good enough to stay on pace until the cramping.  So I thought I’d give it another shot at Boston, run harder than I had originally planned, and shoot for a 3:30 (8:00 pace) with a 3:35 (8:12 pace) as a back-up goal—either would be my second fastest time of my nine marathons.  A 15-K a couple weeks before projected out on McMillan as a 3:23; not realistic but it seemed to confirm that a 3:30 was not crazy.  

 

I was feeling fine heading into the race.  My hamstring and calf, both of which had caused some concern, were question marks but were feeling okay.  I slept well the previous nights, as I almost always do.  I was relaxed and well-equipped for all the waiting; I even managed to doze off for a couple of minutes at the athlete’s village.  (I didn’t see anyone at the info booth, so I ended up in one of the big tents, chatting with a guy whose wife was from my tiny hometown!)  The weather was about 10 degrees warmer than is ideal for me but nothing to complain about; it could have been much worse.  Even the porta-potty lines were quite manageable.  No excuses.  I was ready to roll.

 

5K / 7:56 pace.  All the pre-race hype is that you fly down the early hills.  Really?  I don’t feel that.  But I’m comfortable and after 5K I’m on target. 

 

10K / 7:56.  I already feel warm.  There is bright sunshine and almost no shade.  The wind they were promising seems to have disappeared; I could use a breeze. 

 

15K / 7:55.  I’m holding pace but this feels much harder than it should this early.  Uh oh.  Do I pull back and adjust?  But it’s so early!  Maybe if I keep plugging away, I’ll get into a more comfortable groove and get my second wind.

 

20K / 7:57.  Stay positive.  Relax.  Enjoy.  Put some music on; maybe that’ll help.

 

I hit the half at 1:44:16.  On paper, that’s right on schedule (7:58) but it doesn’t feel good at all.  I’m working way too hard…and this is the easy part of the course.  I need to back off, so I let go of a 3:30 goal and drop to plan B: 3:35.

 

25K / 8:00.   Boy howdy, it’s gonna be a long way to the end.  Stay focused on short goals…the next mile or 5K marker.

 

30K / 8:04.  The hills are real but nothing extraordinary.  However, I don’t want to expend too much energy staying on pace; just don’t walk, keep moving steadily.  But I’m slowing down seriously; 17 and 18 are my slowest miles…so far. 

 

There’s a nice downhill through 19 and I pick up to an 8:00 mile again with no ill effect.  It is great knowing that the RA/KR cheering section is coming up near mile 20.  Chilling out the night before, DW and I laughed our way through a chunk of “Rocky” which happened to be on local TV.  (“Women make weak legs!”)  So as I approach, I know there is only one appropriate greeting. In my best Sly Stallone voice (which is terrible), I yell: “Yo, Adrian!  A-d-r-i-a-n!”  I imagine everyone else there doesn't know what the hell is wrong with me but DW has a laugh. 

 

But the moment is fleeting and the last hill is upon me.  I slow to a shuffle, telling myself it’s okay, just get to the top and then you’ll be onto the homestretch and you can pick it up again.

 

35K / 8:10  I’m still in 3:35 range…but barely.  However, the hills are done and I get a burst of energy from picking up the pace going downhill.  It feels like I’m flying; surely I’m back on track. But when I look at my watch, that “fast” mile is actually 8:31.  WTF?!  That really worries me.  I feel like a tire going flat; what little energy I have left is dissipating rapidly. 

 

Within a mile or so I start feeling really bad.  My head is foggy.  I hear the crowds but it sounds as if I’m underwater.  My stomach starts tightening up and I have to pull back from my ever-slowing pace.  I even have a bit of tunnel vision; it feels like my eyes are sunk in my head.  Soon I’m at that ugly place: I don’t give a damn about Boston the stupid Citgo sign or any of it.  I just want to be done.  In a remarkably short period of time, the wheels have fallen off; the walking begins.  I move off to the side to stay out of the way of the real runners….which puts me within arm’s reach of thousands of screaming spectators.  It feels like a gauntlet; the walk of shame.  40K / 8:18

 

I have to will myself to jog, literally counting my steps to keep myself moving.  In retrospect I know that jog/walk miles 25 and 26 came in just about 10 minute pace; but while running I never looked at my watch.  I am just drained and trying to keep moving.  I walk up much of the Hereford Street “hill.”  Finally, on Boylston, I break back into some resemblance of a jog and try to soak in the moment as best I can.  I see the finish off in the distance but can’t see a clock.  I don’t really care.  I just finish.  3:40:17, I later learn; 8:24 pace.  Ouch.

 

It is really crowded in the finish chutes and I can barely move but it’s oddly quiet among the runners.   Everything seems like slow motion.  I’m a tad claustrophobic so I look up at the sky and breathe deeply.  No one’s talking.  Somebody just a few feet away starts throwing up.  Everyone tries to give her some room. 

 

The person who hands me a water bottle asks, “Are you okay?”  No one’s ever asked me that at the finish before.  I notice he’s not asking that of other people around me.  I must look ragged.  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie.  Just then I hear a volunteer yell, “We need a wheelchair here!”  Someone’s collapsed and they have a heckuva time trying to get a wheelchair through the crowd.  I find this oddly comforting; I’m not the only one hurting.

 

Next, the heat-sheet guy asks what’s becoming the familiar question, “Are you okay?” Geez, do I look that bad?!  I say I’m okay and he says, “You’ve got a really bright shirt.”  For some reason this makes me laugh.  “Yeah, I guess I do.”

 

The annoyingly chipper person hawking Gatorade is next, “Have a Gatorade-3 post-race recovery drink…it’s got protein to help you start rebuilding muscle!”  “You’re @#%$  joking,” I think to myself.  I don’t need a damn commercial; just give me something to drink! 

 

The post-race “food” is pathetic and completely uncharacteristic of the rest of the race organization; it’s a weird lunch bag with gross packaged foods.  I choose something that looks like it might be sugary and bite into it.  Yuck!  I spit it out in a trash can and toss the rest. 

 

Thankfully, I’d planned ahead and know my DW is waiting with chocolate chip cookies to get my blood sugar up.  Unfortunately, we planned to meet under the hopefully-less-crowded “Z” family meeting sign.  I finally wind my way to the family meeting area and there is no “Z” sign.  I see all the other letters including an “XY” sign but no Z.  I ask a volunteer who says, “Yeah, I guess there’s no Z this year.”  I want to make a joke about how the Zinns and Zimmerman's are gonna be bummed about that but for the life of me I can't think of a name that starts with Z.  The moment passes.

 

So I wait at the XY sign, body temperature plummeting, waiting for a sugar fix.  No wife in sight.  After some time, I climb up gingerly onto a small wall to look around and then I see it—a half block away, on the other side of the street, all by itself, away from all the other letters and hidden by a long line of busses—the letter “Z”.  I shuffle over, get my sugar fix, start to feel better, and DW and I walk back to our hotel.  

 

Quads are sore, but not extraordinarily so.  Instead, I just feel drained of all energy.  While I shower, DW gets some pizza which I’m ready to scarf down. Time to go have a beer with some of my not-so-imaginary friends.

 

POST-RACE

I know the result was not that bad and I’m not bumming or anything.  This was my fifth best time out of nine races; right in the middle.  But I honestly thought I’d do better.  And the speed at which the bonking occurred took me by surprise.  It seemed like one minute I was plotting how to pick up my pace and the next I was beginning the death march! I did my usual nutrition strategy, so no changes there.

 

So what went wrong and what is there to learn?

1. My training cycle was not as strong as I’d hoped (in large part due to snows) and I can only conclude that a 3:30 goal was overly ambitious. No big surprise there, I suppose.  I knew I was not in my best shape, which is why I never even considered a shot at a PR, but I did think I had a decent shot at the 3:30-3:35 window.  Lesson: I think I need to go back to basics and target a sub-3:35 from the start; nothing faster.  With some confidence there, I can then think about a 3:30 again.

 

2. National may have taken more out of me than I realized.  That race was never easy but this one was a struggle far too early on.  Lesson: I really am not a strong enough runner to push hard in two marathons in one season.  Pick one; focus. 

 

3.     It was warm—there I said it.  Leading up to the race everyone kept talking about “ideal” temperatures so afterward I didn’t say anything about the heat, not wanting to whine.  But a couple of people who like it warmer—I think Holly and Perch—both commented that they got warm in all that direct sunshine.  For me, that translates into hot!  It was not a huge issue but it was a factor.  My quest for a dry 35F marathon will continue!  That Antarctic marathon keeps catching my eye. 

 

For the record:

3:40:17   (8:24)

OA 10,126 / 22,540  

Men 7445 / 13,072 

AG 1432 / 2381

At least I beat Valerie Bertinelli. 

 

ETA: 

 

I know the marathon photo people have to work with what they've got, but I thought it was just mean of them to pitch these photos with the tag line: "Immortalize your Boston death march with this attractive triptych." 

Tramps, what a great read. You captured the essence of Boston. I'm sorry you didn't achieve your goal, but that's Boston. Regardless, you finished in a reasonable time. Congrats. It was great meeting you. Sorry we didn't get to talk more. Your imaginary friends are glad you enjoyed the experience.

Oh Tramps, don't day never again--I feel so bad I missed meeting you.  I want to be a real friend, not an imaginary one.  I hope you'll decide to go back and try it again, knowing the course now.  I could really empathize with your struggle on the side of the road--one reason I don't wear my name anywhere is I don't need to hear someone exhorting me on when I'm hurting.  If you're walking, it is because you need to be walking and someone shouting at you isn't going to help.

 

Glad you still had a good time.  If it's any comfort, the Sox were hurting more than you on Monday.

 

grins,

A

Tramps

 

Great report.......much like the experience I'm sure.

 

You are a very strong runner.......as I read your report I'm looking for something to take away and apply to my own training. I'm not sure I like the Marathon distance yet but I do want to learn how to run it. 

 

I appreciate how you shared latching on.....this is something I like to do too. I know when I did the Dam to Dam, I found myself surronded the entire distance.....it was hard to latch onto the right person. And I really don't like to listen to the heavy breathing of the guy that has been on my heels for the last 5 miles.

 

Nice race....a great finishing time and a lifetime of memories......BooYay !

 

Skip a RR by Tramps??? Are you kidding???  You do such thoughtful, well written reports I can't imagine who wouldn't read it. 

 

And we're not imaginary friends, we're virtual friends.  Just because we haven't met in person doesn't mean we've imagined each other!   Glad to hear you and DW had such a good time meeting everyone!

 

Seriously, though, great RR even though you had a tough last couple of miles.  What exactly was  your nutrition strategy?  You said you didn't change anything from usual, but what is usual?  I'm curious.

 

 

 

No great accomplishments, no great drama; just another one in the books. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At least I beat Valerie Bertinelli. 

 I prolly would have been behind Valerie the entire race.

 

That being said, getting to Boston is quite an accomplishment.

 

I'm glad I read your RR.

 

 "Immortalize your Boston death march with this attractive triptych." 

 

I see you haven't lost your sense of humor. Tough knocks out there. "Gauntlet of shame?" I've been there....didn't by the shirt. Hell, I still haven't qualified for the thing.

 

It sounds like you took away a lot from the experience....which is all you can hope for (if you don't PR); and, you got to meet all your cyberbuddies. I would caution you against calling us "imaginary friends," though: it makes you sound schizophrenic.

I'm with you on the big race thing. BUT,

 

See you there next year?

Walt

 

It was great to finally meet you Tramps.  I didn't find it warm at all, but then I live waaaay down south.  Heat is a bummer.  I never run well in it, nor do you.  I'm glad you were able to enjoy the experinece.  3:40 is very good for Boston!

 

Bill