The Mom of a runner I coach kindly let me a book entitled ' What I Talk About When I Talk About Running' written by a Japanese best selling autho Haruki Marukami. Tucked in my purse for 'marathon weekend' light reading, one phrase kept resonating with me prior and during the 2017 Boston Marathon, 'pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional'. It sounded like a good mantra to me.
With 12 weeks of total inactivity due to a cluster of injuries, labral tear, bulging disc with nerve impingement, mangled hamstring, it was truly a wonder I was even in Boston, but pain was very much on my mind, how much was OK, what wasn't.... After the MRI revealed the severity of the issues, the only cross training I had done was 30 mins easy walking of the dog. Then that great medicine commonly referred to as the 'tincture of time' meant that I could run a little, and that first week saw me creep up from 10 X 1 minute to 9.5 miles, the second week I managed a 14 miler, the third saw me test out if I should even attempt Boston with the need to achieve 18 miles. Although not pain free, I was no worse after 18 so made the bold decision to attempt the impossible and see if I could at least finish the race.
Being able to run 18 miles had built some confidence in me, but as the usual pre race momentum built in the city it turned out to be as thin as my training. On marathon weekend, surrounded by all the buzzing runners in the commemorative royal blue jackets, with thin pink elastoplast like strips on the arms, my confidence started to waiver. I would not wear that jacket until after the race, I truly wasn't sure I could do it. It had seemed like a fun and gung ho act to show up and enjoy a 4th Boston experience with no training, now it just seemed foolish. Like kids before a chemistry test all I was listening to was runner's training plans, how many miles they had run, how many 20 or 22 milers they had put in. When runners said they had struggled with a week or two, or backed off here on a tempo run, I started thinking about the fact that I hadn't been able to put on socks for two months without it hurting. What was I thinking?
The only person who didn't seem to think I was crazy was Guy - I guess he realized how miserable I would have been running an easy 5 miler and then showing up to watch the race as I had long considered. He knew I had to begin......
To compound matters the weather reports started changing from the desired 48f and breezy to 75-79f with the day prior hitting 85f. I redirected my anxiety to the constant scanning of weather. com; although ironically my brain told me it would have much less effect on me than on others. With no training goal or PR to blow up due to the warm temperatures I should have been comforted, instead I was haunted by the memory of 2012 when I DNF'd in 90f temperatures despite being in the best shape of my life, and now added that to my list of woes.
The loading of buses at Boston Common was hot but friendly - some jostling and good humoured banter. The bus ride seemed endless, there is a strange sense of foreboding as you realize after 40 mins of driving one way, that at some point you were going to have to get yourself back to that spot without the aid of an engine. Being processed through the endless portapotty lines and eventually walking the 20 mins to the start line saw me sweaty and hot before the race even began, with no sign of those clouds the meteorologists had promised.
Waiting for the 3rd wave of the race to start I glanced up at the two armed snipers poised on the roof top guarding us from harm. One by one we runners started to wave at them. The standing sniper, slowly raised an arm, and smiled, then began to wave more and more enthusiastically as the crowd cheered them. His comrade lay prone on the roof and glared at his smiling officer but chose to stay dead pan behind his dark glasses, alert to all danger. However, from the moment you start the Boston Marathon to the end it is impossible not to smile or cheer and even the toughest of the marines eventually crack - there it was a wave from the impassive face, the spirit of this marathon had won out!
After four Boston's I feel I have finally nailed this interesting course. In 2012 in extreme heat I had strong memories of being suffocated by the 90f weather even in the first five miles, with the heat steaming off all the bodies and concrete over powering me, even at the snail ten minute pace we were running. Having trained all winter in 34f and being in great shape it was bitterly disappointing to be crawling along that year and anger and disappointed emanated from every hot pore of my skin that year, to the point I had DNF'd at mile 18 along with many others, with an IT band injury aggravated greatly by dehydration. This year was different, I felt the heat, but no anger or frustration - it is what it is, no suffering about it! Running with gratitude, excitement and sheer euphoria at the luck of being able to run a 4th Boston on such sketchy training also kept me mindful. I divided the race into 5 X 5 miles, and had micro goals along the way to keep me interested.
The first five miles are downwhill, here I just wanted to stay controlled and use it for warm up, too fast here and your quads burn out at mile 16. From 5 - 10 brought us to the hottest part of the race in Natick, where temperatures went from 74-79 f, hard as you are no where near done, and although this is a flat section you still need to be cautious. At mile ten you are heading towards that wall of sound that is Wellesley - I swear you hear those raucous college kids at mile 11 ten minutes before you see them. The nicer the weather the happier and drunker they are. So many signs begging for kisses - so many scantily clad girls enjoying the race atmosphere. As a fitting tribute to the 50th anniversary of women crashing the race there are also now plenty of good looking guys bearing signs such as 'Kiss me I'm hotter than those two girls either side of me'. Micro goal for the tough middle section 10 - 15 - stalk your prey at Wellsley, find a cute guy to kiss. Fortunately this year saw me double my yield as there were more men than ever.....I was ahead of goal!!!
At 15 the race starts to get interesting, all the downhill and flat is over and just before 16 the Newton Hills start to loom. This section, until mile 21, is a series of not huge, but nonetheless challenging hills. Starting at the back of the pack and running a 9 minute pace meant there was plenty of carnage by the time the hills began - stronger runners were already walking, their quads trashed by the first aggressive ten miles, and the unforgiving heat. I felt good and was able to power up the hills without much change in pace.
The spectators are phenomenal throughout - a woman joined me at mile 15 wearing similar coloured clothing and declared she was joining me so she could benefit from my cheer squad. A single syllable name is a huge advantage in the marathon world - printed in block letters you are greeted throughout the entire race with the chanting drinking game sound of 'ruth ruth ruth ruth' or 'Babe Ruth' 'Baby Ruth' or even 'Ruth, that's my Mom's name'. Bull horns blare out 'Ruth, Aint that the Truth' one guy even started coaching me at mile 22, 'that's it high knee lift, relaxed shoulders, you'll be there in no time'. My fastest miles were 22 and 24, getting to 25 was a little harder but I took comfort that for that final fifth of the race the crowd would pull me along through its own will and energy.
Its true that in a marathon you see all of life. A woman ahead of me who looked around 30 had the following written on her shoulder 'stroke survivor 4/22/16', an amputee picked up his guide and in a tremendous show of strength ran carrying her above him across that finish line - the crowd went wild! You also see terrible sights, a fit man of around 25 who looked like an incredible runner, doubled over at mile 21 crying, a woman with scarey huge brown splashes all over the back of her aqua shorts seemed to have a lot of room to maneouver through the finish chute....several stretcher cases, even less than a mile from the end. By the last mile on Hereford and Boyleston, instead of handing you vaseline on lolly pop sticks for your 'boo boo's or chafing they direct their efforts to screaming your name and urging you on as if you are the only one in that race of 27,000 people. If you have avoided the many offers of coors lite on the way from the college kids, and only taken the ice and swedish fish you have a better chance of making it to that finish line intact. I pulled over around 8 times and physically stopped for ice and water, it added a whole five minutes to my time, but I was able to avoid the medical tent, which 2,000 runners ended up needing.
My take home on Boston this year - respect Mother Nature, respect the course. Micro goals work - especially if you take a moment to celebrate the five miles you have just achieved and how well you felt at the end of them. Gratitude works too - being angry and resentful about the weather is a losing game. But most of all, have a great group of friends ready at the end to help you to that pint of Sam Adams and raise a glass to the best marathon in America!
