Prior to the race I hadn't had a real quality workout in over a month and hadn't even jogged more than 6 miles at a time, with most days only jogging 1 or 2. I was disappointed and nearly obsessed on doing everything I could for my knee/hip/thigh. I don't know if I ever paid so much attention to a part of my body (okay, maybe I need to rethink that ;) haha). Every day I applied ice, stretched, bandaged, and downed Vitamin I, glucosamine and a couple other strange concoctions. Still, nothing seemed to work and I was seriously rethinking whether I would run Boston at all or if I would have to jog it. As I flew out to Boston I still wasn't sure, but the buzz from the folks at the airport and the expo made me want to do anything to run it. I wanted so badly to give an effort as legendary as the Boston Marathon itself. Somehow maybe I would wake up on race morning and the pain would magically be gone - maybe the pain was psychosomatic. I desperately hoped it was.
On Sunday I went to the gigantic expo with my Dad and Jess who provided great support the whole time and who also caught the wave of excitement from the thousands of people and events that make Boston so legendary. We spent way too much time at the expo, but I did stick around to wait for a free stretching out session by a licensed physical therapist. He immediately located the problem as originating in the hip adductors and performed some stretches on that area. He gave me stretching homework to do at the hotel that night. After a great lecture by a Harvard professor on human evolution and running and a fantastic dinner at a Cambodian/French restaurant I did what I could that night.
The best strategy I could come up with was to go out near goal pace and then speed up or slow down based on how I felt. Based on my jogs over the past month I was not very hopeful since they all had me limping after just a couple miles. Still, I did all my marathon preparations as normal including putting my game face on. My dad took a couple pictures at the dropoff bus that morning and I don't think I even remotely smiled for any of them! Once the bus dropped me off in Hopkinton I kept moving, stretching, as if one more slight stretch of 10 seconds would cure me completely. In the starting corral I stayed moving and focused and got charged up after catching a glimpse of Ryan Hall lining up only 50 or so yards ahead of me. Looking around the corral I could see all runners with a similar qualifying time to mine. Everyone looks around with a mutual respect and the hope that they would see the same faces in the late stages of the race that seemed so more distant than the actual miles. As the starting time approached I told myself my motto: hoka hey, it's a good day to die.
Now I know I was warned that Boston starts fast, but the first couple miles were absurd. I think my splits were both under 6:20 and they both felt almost too easy. I wanted to go even faster but the crowd was too thick. In the back of my head I knew this was a good thing. As we flew along for the first 5 miles I expected the crowd to thin out, but it never did. The kids were so excited to get a running high five that I couldn't resist. All of this helped me to step outside myself and ignore what was happening in my left thigh. Of course I mentally checked in on it from time to time, and was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't really all that debilitating. I switched my focus back to sticking with the folks in my corral, and tried to ignore the dread that building in my mind about the stiffness that I knew would strike by 10k at the latest. The pain could be ignored, but I knew the stiffness would mean I'd have to stop and try to stretch it out for a few minutes. And sure enough the stiffness came, and I felt the funny hitch in my stride. But it didn't debilitate me either. "Damn, now I'm going to have to run this race."
There were many highlights along the way including a guy on stage singing "Sweet Caroline" in Natick, but what could be better than thousands of screaming college co-eds near the halfway point. The sign before their "wall of sound" said it all, "Brace your ears." Though I was tempted to stop at the "kiss me" signs, I knew I needed to really run now so I decided to compromise with running high fives (probably at least 100 hands) and blowing kisses. I looked at my watch at the halfway point and realized I was on pace to get the 2:50. But damn the up and down was already starting to take a toll on my weakened, injured quad and we weren't even at the Newton Hills yet. My cardio system had no trouble with the pace but my leg muscles were in agony. There were some pretty strong wind gusts from the eastern headwind that made things even more difficult. I was looking for some people to hide behind and draft, but too often I found myself just behind a pack and fully exposed to the strong gusts, which proved to be the race element that most affected the elite outcome.
So the uphills felt agonizingly slow. I knew I had quickly powered up hills even steeper than these in training, but the leg strength wasn't there today when I tried to call upon it. Guys flew past me on the Newton hills and my Garmin GPS watch was sounding annoying beeps at me because I wasn't on pace and the frustration was mounting as I realized that 2:50 was slipping away. But then the voice of my friend Kara rang through my mind and it said to just focus on what I could do instead of what I couldn't. I'm not sure she even ever said these words to me, but it sounded like something she would say anyway. The attitude change helped as I climbed Heartbreak Hill and "Welcome to the Jungle" blared on the speaker system. I put my head down and focused on just climbing and being happy for each and every step on this storied climb, yet still partly praying the end would come soon.
Heartbreak Hill would not break my heart even if it did slow my legs. The downhills afterwards were as painful as I'd been told, but I was glad to feel my legs moving fast again. The crowds really started to get big as we approached Boston and their excitement was a wave that kept my mind from making excuses for quiting. They were so eager to see us run and the most common comment I got was "Go Beard" (or in Bostonese "Go Bee-ud, I like da bee-ud."). With a couple miles left I thought I'd try an experiment and I made a lifting gesture with my arms to see what would happen. The crowd responded with a huge roar. How freaking cool was that.
I decided I should really save the gestures for the last half mile and so I put the focus back on running. Despite yells from the crowd that "It's all downhill from heea," there were a couple small uphill sections that once again seemed painfully slow for me. My heart wasn't even pounding that hard and I at no point was I out of breath, but my quads said this was all they could do today. So I figured I might as well have some fun. I continued a steady pace to the heart of downtown Boston and played some more with the crowd. This time their roars of encouragement led me to give what little kind of kick I could in the last half mile. No giving up now. I swung my arms back and forth faster, using the textbook method for a finishing kick. I focused on trying to keep up with one of the competitive women (can't let a girl beat me!). I crossed the finish line next to her with a fist in the air and glance of the clock which read two-fifty-four-something-I-don't-know-whatever-where-can-I-sit-down.
Chip time turned out to be 2:54:17. Considering everything, I'll take it. For now. Journey's Marathon is only two weeks away and sub 2:50 isn't looking so far off. It's going to take some smart recovery and the continued healing of that darn left quad that in any case will leave doubters sucking it.
1 comments:
And Journey's went how? Did you do it?
HAHA! You didn't beat that girl!!! You just tied with her!
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