Boston Marathon 2010 (2 reports)

By:  Ed Morse

Our journey began Saturday morning as Janet and I headed to the airport to catch our flight up to Boston.  All was uneventful, and we arrived at our friends’ house around 11am.  After catching up for a bit, we headed over to the expo to pick up our numbers (marathon for me, 5k for Janet) and check out the stuff.  We caught up with the rest of the gang (Diane, Denise, Michelle, Holly, Hazel, and Hazel’s friend Pam) in the Adidas shop, and the purchasing frenzy was already well under way.

The Sheraton Hotel that the girls had reserved was a perfect location – you could walk to the expo and to shopping and restaurants without ever going outside, and we took advantage of this in the cool, rainy weather that weekend.  After a few hours at the expo, Janet and I went back to our friends’ for dinner.

Sunday morning was the 5K race for Janet and Holly.  There were 5000 registrants, and the line-up was relaxed, but crowded.  I left the girls near the 9:00 pace sign, and they were working their way up a little closer to the start.  I stopped by the starting line where the introductions included a few Boston notables such as Bill Rogers.  I then hiked a few hundred yards up the course and climbed up on the tailgate of a box truck that was thoughtfully placed near the course.  As the lead runners went by, it was much like any 5K: speedy guys and gals with long legs zipping along.  What I wasn’t prepared for was how quickly this gave way to walkers and chatters mixed in with runners.  After a couple thousand people went by I spotted Janet and Holly working their way through the crowds.  They spotted me “hanging off the back of a truck” and gave me big smiles.  After they passed, I walked back to the other side of the start/finish in time to catch the winner Josh Cox, who had gapped the field by a considerable margin.  A few minutes later, Janet and Holly cruised by on the way to tying Janet PR.  Janet was thrilled with this, as she did not experience any of the breathing difficulties that have been plaguing her.

While Holly and Janet were showering, the rest of us went off for a 20 minute run to loosen up before the big race the next day.  I missed meeting the girls, and had a comfortable 2 miles at about 8 minute pace.  The girls ran on the other side of the river and got to trade waves of “hello” with Meb as he did his day-before training.  Sunday afternoon was pretty lazy, and we met at 5pm for an early dinner at Legal Seafood, a Boston institution.  They fed us plenty, and we all headed back to our respective rooms to get our stuff together for the race.

Monday morning – race day!  I woke up around 5am and took a quick shower to wake up.  I carefully packed my bag with a Clif shot and shot blocks, as well as some extra layers for after the race.  The sky was clear, and it looked like it would be a beautiful morning.  We met the folks staying at the hotel out at the corner of Mass. Ave.; as Janet and I stood there waiting, we heard the excited chatter of the gang before we saw them.  It was over half a mile to where our coach busses were parked, and the morning breeze was pretty chilly.  We got on the bus, and took a section of seats near the back.  The trip out to Hopkinton was smooth, and we saw more school busses than I knew existed in Massachusetts.  Once we were parked at the Hopkinton high school, we sat and chatted to pass the hours before the start.  We had arrived near 8:00, and the first wave didn’t start until 10:00.

One of my big complaints last year was the wait for the porta-potties, which had lines of 40 people or so.  You can probably guess how long the line for the single toilet was on a bus holding 40 people!  Nonetheless, the bus was comfortably warm.  I went outside for a few minutes to look around, and got chilled pretty quickly.  Bottom line – coach bus is the way to go.

9:40 – time to head for the start.  I stuffed my fuel in the pockets of my Race-Ready shorts, and pulled the big brown leaf bag over my head.  Hugs and good wishes from all, and I was walking down toward the corrals.  It was getting close to the start time, and people were beginning to jog to the start, but I recalled that it was not too far, and conserved my energy.  I squeezed into the back of corral 10, and waited for the start.  They announced the wheelchair start, and two minutes later the field was off.  Well, actually we just stood there until the field slowly began to shuffle forward.  This was just according to my plan, as I saw no reason to run up the hill to the start line.

Mile one, taking stock.  Seems I’d forgotten to tie my shorts, which now had pockets loaded with fuel!  Not falling down, but a little worrisome.  Also, it seemed that I would again have to take a rest stop, even though I had just gone on the bus.  Oh well, two reasons to stop was enough for me.  At about mile 1.7, I pulled off the edge of the road by some trees, and made sure my shorts were tied before returning!  Mile one was at 7:53, being careful not to trip on anyone or waste energy going around them, and mile two was 8:24, including my stop.

Remembering Jack’s admonition about going out too fast, I paid careful attention to my pace, keeping most miles between 7:35 and 7:45 up through the halfway point.  The girls of Wellesley College put on a deafening show once again, and although I skipped the kisses, their energy brought a big smile to my face as I ran by.  At the half-marathon distance, my watch showed 1:41:25, and I was very pleased with this – 7:45 pace, feeling pretty good, although not exactly fresh.

For miles 14 – 17, I picked up the pace slightly, averaging 7:30 through the flats and the beginning of the hills.  I may have gone a bit fast up the first hill, which is really my least favorite.  There’s a long climb up over a highway bridge that crosses route 128 (I-95, to those of you from outside New England).  Something about the length of the hill and barrenness of the bridge depresses me, but near the end of the hill you hit some awesome crowds, including Janet and Holly cheering franticly!  There was Gu at mile 16.5, which I passed up as I had my own shot blocks.  I did take this as a reminder to have my third set of blocks, having had the first sets at about miles 6 and 12.

Now on to the hills.  For miles 18 through 20, I kept a pretty steady 7:45 pace, even though mile 19 was pretty flat.  Mile 21 had the final hill, and I didn’t want to fade too badly here.  As I began climbing the last hill, I kept focused on a short compact stride, and keeping my turn-over at a reasonable rate.  I was looking at the ground about 15 feet ahead, so I wouldn’t think too much about the end of the hill.  There was a little downhill relief in the middle of the hill, and then a final climb to the top.  I was feeling tired now, but for some reason I was passing a lot of people.  My pace had dropped off to 8:12, and I was still trying to save some energy as I remembered being completely wiped out at the top of the hill last year.  And then, miraculously, the hill was behind me!

Five miles left, all downhill.  How hard could this be?  Being careful not to get carried away, I brought the pace back down to about 7:35 for miles 22-24.  Near the end of mile 24, I began to feel tired, but knew that I had only 2 miles to go.  Then – all of a sudden – massive fatigue hits me.  Not pain exactly, just a rubbery feeling in my legs that makes it feel like I’m running through water.  I don’t remember taking that Clif shot at mile 22 … because I didn’t take it!  For some reason it seems like too much energy to try to take it now.  Will I ever make it to mile 25?  Oh wait, there’s the sign … nope, that’s the 40k marker.  Finally reach mile 25, having slowed to 8:12.  The final 1.2 miles were dreadful; I remember walking a couple of times, and then deciding that running would be better since I would be finished sooner.  The last little dip where Commonwealth Avenue goes under Mass. Ave. was tough to climb out of, even though the end was about half a mile off.  As I walked up the incline, there a was a gentle touch on my arm, and a quiet “come on” from a passing runner.  They were gone in an instant, but that brief connection got me moving again, and I managed to keep running through Hereford onto Boylston and the finish.  I will never know who it was, but I am ever so grateful to them.

I had promised myself that I’d finish with a smile, so I raised my arms as I crossed the finish.  It was probably more of a grimace than a smile, but the final result was about a minute and a half quicker than last year.  Final time – 3:24:19.

I was pleased to spend time with my friends before the race, and to see Janet and Holly cheering along the course.  I was also proud of my pace in the first half; I felt really well positioned to take on the hills and the finish.  I was a complete idiot when it came to fueling – not having a breakfast to speak of (a couple Clif bars) and then neglecting to keep the fuel intake up as I ran.  Hydration was adequate, and I did make an effort to drink frequently at almost every water stop.  Some things must be learned the hard way, and I now understand what it means to ‘hit the wall.’  To quote Edgar Watson Howe, “A good scare is worth more to a man than good advice.“  With a few days to reflect, I may consider running again in the future.

I met Janet and Holly at the rendezvous point, and shortly afterwards got together with the other Marathon Girls.  Downtown Boston was an absolute zoo, and we were glad to be able to head back to the adjoining hotel rooms (a.k.a., the party suite) to relax, have a beverage or two, and some yummy pizza and cupcakes.  My friends who put us up came over to help celebrate, and were impressed by everyone’s accomplishments (and shopping abilities).

Thanks again to all who tracked us, cheered us, and helped us prepare.

* * *

By: Hazel Tapp

Promptly at 6am found Diane, Pam, Michelle, Denise, Holly and I heading out of the Sheraton to walk the mile or two to our much anticipated bus ride to Hopkinton and the start of the Boston Marathon.  An easy meet up with Ed and Janet on Mass Av preceded the chilly walk across the Smoot Bridge and the Charles River. Our VIP bus was everything we hoped for, and after a fond farewell to Holly and Janet, the UCRR crowd, here on known as Ed and the girls, settled in to the fairly comfortable, but unnervingly long (there is only ONE way back), ride out to the runners village. The pre-race sitting on the bus time went by faster than we anticipated with lots of time to relax and methodically begin our pre-race routines.  For me these were: eat protein bars I have never tried before, spill coffee, play with music, check facebook, wait for bathroom, assemble fuel belt, and spend many minutes coaxing our confused sat. watches into believing its OK to find a Boston satellite.

Nerves started kicking in a bit when the wave one runners including Ed, left the bus and the crowds outside started to thin. We assembled our check-in bags, walked to the bag buses and began the long walk to the start. We were corralled up a short hill on a fairly narrow road and almost immediately heard the “pop” of the gun going off. A slow walk forward ensued, with us all trying to stay together. Somehow Pam and I got separated on the hill and crossed the line a few seconds ahead of Denise, Diane and Michelle.  With all the focus we gave to our training and this race, I had mentally tried to strategize the race many times before in advance. Unfortunately, the nature of the course, the easy first half, then the middle hills ending in the final city entry, had not lent itself to any obvious race plan for me.  I’m not alone in loving a good downhill, and despite the many written and verbal warnings, could not bring myself to go for the slow, “there is no early miles bagging time at Boston“  approach I had read about for months before.

The first miles are easy downs, and I kept my focus on a steady enjoyable effort without really worrying about time.  Within a couple of miles, Pam and I spotted Michelle and Denise ahead, with Diane just about with us looking great. The course was crowded but the bib number seeding and corralling was effective at keeping similar paced runners together with minimal running into people. The early towns had a lot of character as did the wonderful crowds.  One mention here is we run through the town of Framingham, home to the famous (at least in medical research circles) Framingham Heart study, who’s residents have allowed themselves to be tracked since 1937, and have provided world renown data on the connections between lifestyle, cholesterol, exercise and heart disease. What a perfect location for the marathon.

Running through the 15k, at an “oh look, that’s only a minute slower than my 15k PR” pace, was a little disconcerting, but hey, it’s Boston and we’re still going downhill. Sort of. One point to mention here, from your no1 up-hill phobic, is that there really are some ups, early on, that no one tells you about. This can be slightly alarming as you ponder what Heartbreak hill might be like ahead.  “If these hills are classified as down, are the Newtons ahead as tame as some say?” Despite all you read and think about, for the first time Boston novice runner it’s a guessing game about to be revealed.

Nothing quite prepares you at Boston for mile 13. I really hadn’t thought too much about the Wellesley girls in advance. Sure I’d heard about them and thought it was just a gimmick or landmark or something I might easily miss, but wow, this screaming line of supportive kids brought tears to my eyes.  By this time they’d been standing there, jumping and yelling for two hours, and looked like they’d just stepped outside.  It was really sweet and amazing and was one of my favorite and most memorable race moments.

I continued on, strategizing my food and for once paying attention to, but not obeying my pace band where I had a personal goal time written for every two miles. I was way ahead of the 3.55 pace I’d chosen as a goal and my “virtual runner” looked pretty pissed off at being so way behind me.   The half way point came up and I was again a minute behind my PR time for a half marathon.

Mile 16 is the first and possibly the hardest of the four hills, it was coming up and I was dreading it.  I had read enough to spot the steep downhill that preceded it and started to wonder how I would cope. I moved to the right, slowed, and evil runner that I am, took comfort in the sight of some people walking it. The hill was not so bad and before I knew it, I was at the top and picking up extra GU’s at the 17 mile marker. The next hills rolled in in a kind of a blur, the most notable thing that made them bearable was some wonderful downhills in between each.  I was doing OK as the dreaded Heartbreak Hill loomed.  It was a little warm by now and early on the hill I happily grabbed the wet sponge given out to us slow runners on the right. It was a delight to de-gu my hands and there seemed to be a lot of nice people out encouraging us on. I locked in feeling 100% confident that I was OK.  Next thing I noticed Pam once again cruise by me on the left, and lo and behold Diane appeared too, looking fresh and chirpy as ever.  As Pam and Diane drew level ahead of me,  a big crowd on the left (Boston University students) were yelling that we were cresting the hill, the Mile 21 marker appeared ahead and I suddenly realized we were done with the hill as we reached this point. We were all ecstatic and Pam and Diane high fived. Thanks Guys, it was great and I’m hoping to hold that visual for a while- you two made my day. From then on, it was easy to pick up our paces and run alongside together for a few more happy minutes before the crowds of fellow runners seemed to close in around and separate us.

The great feeling was unfortunately rather short lived, the downhill faded and another series of soul destroying little ups started coming into play. Diane was running not too far ahead, but the dreaded “it’s really starting to hurt, and I don’t think I really care anymore”, thoughts were seeping rapidly into my head.  I forced myself to gulp down a GU and hope for a caffeine kick to help.  Pam once again emerged nearby, but a quick glance in her direction suggested she was feeling it too. So, there we were, 3.5 miles to go and not much of a game plan. It’s a really long way left to run and my virtual runner was gloating with glee as he cruised ahead with me in the dust. My only reaction was mild interest; I had nothing to throw back. By this time we were back in the city, lots- in fact too much- of crowd support appeared on either side of the narrow course.  At this point for me nothing brought much comfort. The miles managed to slowly count themselves down and walking was not an option so I staggered on.  The 25 mile marker was no comfort at all. As we all know, it’s still a really long way, and that 25 mile marker TRICKS you anyway into thinking you’re just a mile away, when you’re actually 0.2 miles away from being just a mile away, and 0.2 miles is a really, really long way anyway and on top of that you still have a whole flipping mile to go after that, so why don’t you just beam yourself out of here, forget it and go home.  Yep, I had developed a bit of an attitude.  Minutes passed and someone was shouting to another runner  “its five more minutes you can run for FIVE MORE minutes” and I tried to listen.  Maybe I could count down from 5. Next thing I knew the road looked familiar, we were coming up on the turn to Boylston Street and the place where we’d stood to watch for Holly and Janet in the 5k the day before. We turned the corner, and way in the distance was the finish.  I felt awful; throngs of energized people were sprinting past me so I made myself start to believe.  Past the 26 marker then the noise of the finish was overwhelming and I felt huge relief mixed with great nausea as I finally crossed the line. I was so happy when almost the first thing that happened next was Pam appearing right beside me.  Wow, a dear friend at the finish, it doesn’t get much better than that.

I am delighted to dedicate this experience to Pam and my fellow UCRR travelers.  It was a deep and bonding experience with both the runners and non-runners who made the trip to Boston, and although I said never again when I crossed the line, with such a UCRR anticipated turn out in store for 2011, I just can’t imagine not lining up again next year.   Finish time was 3.58.16 and place was 14,000ish, very happy to beat my seeding of 20,000ish.

Do and don’ts?   I dunno, even after a week of reflection, I still don’t have any clever thoughts on handling this race. It’s a tricky, sneaky, little devil of a race and I guess that that’s part of the essence of the Boston mystique.   I’ll let you know if I come up with any good advice.  The spectators can be a problem, lots of people “have to cross the course” in front of you for some reason. I saw a couple of runners get bumped, and Holly watched people attempt to cross with baby strollers.

Overall, it’s a unique experience with a different feel to the usual big races. If you get a chance how can you not give Boston a whirl?