I Just Ran the Boston Marathon!

Many other people have already written excellent narratives of all the activities leading up to and following the Boston Marathon, and frankly, they’ve done a better (and more timely) job than I could, so I’ll keep this mostly to a description of my thoughts and physical condition during the race.

4:30 a.m. – A fitful night of rest comes to an end as I awake a full 45 minutes before my alarm is set to chirp. My stomach is roiling and my head is pounding. Just yesterday, I had commented on Facebook and Twitter that I wasn’t nervous at all. Lesson learned: don’t taunt the marathon gods. They unleashed their wrath on me the instant I lay down to sleep, and they weren’t about to let up yet. I took two ibuprofen to try to stop the jackhammer in my head and ate a banana to calm my stomach. Both attempts failed.

6:30 a.m. – I leave the hotel to catch the American Cancer Society (ACS) DetermiNation team shuttle. The instructions were to meet at 6:45 at the Hynes Convention Center “T” stop, just two blocks away. I arrive by 6:35, but I don’t see any ACS people or signs at street level. I go down into the station; nothing there either. Panic sets in momentarily. I don’t have a phone to call the shuttle drivers, and I’m worried that I won’t have time to go back to my hotel room to call. I run back upstairs and outside, then go around the corner farthest away from where I came in – there’s the shuttle. Ahh, relax!

6:50 a.m. – The van pulls away with nine excited DetermiNation runners (10 others found their own way to the start). This is the first Boston Marathon for about half of us. Among our group, we have three runners from North Dakota (who all came together) and one runner each from Georgia, Illinois, Massachusetts, Nevada, New York and even Alaska. I’m amazed and proud of DetermiNation’s reach, as the program only launched on a national scale about two years ago.

During the 15-minute ride, we all swap typical running stories: where we qualified for Boston, what our “BQ” time was, other fun races we have run. It’s clear this group enjoys off-beat events like relays, trail runs and the occasional 50K or 50 miler. And we all like travelling for “destination” races, especially to running’s mecca, Boston.

Team DetermiNation!

7:05 a.m. – We arrive at a small office park, where we’ll catch a bus to take us the last couple of miles to Athletes’ Village. But first, we nosh on bagels, bananas, apples and drink water and Gatorade that ACS provided. One of our Boston veterans says, “This is much better than taking the regular shuttle bus. I really feel like I’m part of a team.” The rest of us agree. We pose for a couple of team photos and take advantage of the short lines for the portajohns. I’m especially thankful for this as my stomach is still in turmoil. Two “pit stops” helped a bit, but not nearly enough.

7:20 a.m. – We hop onto the bus bound for the Village. After a short ride, we’re dropped off about a mile from the Village. As we walk past the vacant start corrals, we see a sea of empty portajohns and snap photos of this wonder, knowing each will soon have a line of nervous runners snaking away from it. I note that my start corral, #11, is closest to “Portajohn Village,” and I’m happy about that.

7:30 a.m. – At the Village, the four of us in wave 1 pose for photos in front of the famous “It All Starts Here” sign, then dump our yellow bags at our respective gear check bus. Charlie and Nancy head to their start corrals near the front, and Cara and I take off toward corral 11, stopping first at Portajohn Village. The lines are now a dozen people deep. A young woman sings “The Star-Spangled Banner” and two jets scream overhead; meanwhile, three people are still in line ahead of me. This is not helping to calm me!

7:58 a.m. – Cara and I slip into a very packed corral 11. Four more people, who are somehow later than us, also manage to squeeze in. I peer ahead at the road full of runners leading up the hill and crack a faint smile. I’m about to start the Boston Marathon!

Only 26 miles 385 yards to go

8:00 a.m. – The race officially begins. Cara and I wish each other good luck and start a slow walk uphill to the start line, knowing that the next 3½ hours will test our stamina and will, but also knowing that we’re running with the DetermiNation to succeed.

Mile 1 – I’ve read all about the course and know this first mile is downhill. Popular advice is to take it easy at the start so you’re strong when the hills come from miles 16.5-21.5. I invoke my first mantra of the day: “Control.” At the 1 mile marker, I check my split: 7:47. This is great. If anything, it’s a little slower than I expected, but I’m content to go easy, given the sorry state of my stomach and head.

Now that I have the pace dialed in, I decide to stick with my plan of running “by feel” rather than by time. Over the past two years, all of my PRs have been when I didn’t look at my watch to check my splits during the race. I have a tendency to over think things: “That mile was fast; can I keep that kind of pace?” or “I was 6 seconds off goal pace; I better make that up soon!” Running by feel takes my over-analysis out of the equation. Besides, I went into Boston with the attitude that this was a “Celebration Run,” a joyous reward for the hard work I put into getting here. I didn’t have a specific time goal. I wanted only to not embarrass my family, the DetermiNation team, or myself.

Mile 2 – At the first aid station, a guy behind me who didn’t yet realize that Gatorade was always first and water always last, yelled at each volunteer manning the first sets of tables, “Zdat wahtah? Zdat wahtah?” I chuckled at his New England accent … then switched sides of the road so I could get away from it.

Mile 3 – Some people are parked on the side of the road, grilling food and drinking beer. It’s not even 8:30 a.m.! I’ve never seen tailgating for a foot race before. Clearly, this marathon is a different animal.

Mile 5 – I’m so engrossed in taking in the whole experience, I completely missed mile 4. The good news is, that didn’t bother me.

Mile 6 – The discomfort in my head and stomach persists. A thought creeps into my brain, “You’ve managed to get into the Boston Marathon, but you’re not going to finish it.” I quickly push that thought far, far away. I’ve never had a DNF (did not finish), and I am not about to have one today! I remind myself, “Enjoy the experience!” I force a smile. As we pull into Framingham, I’m still forcing a smile. A spectator makes eye contact and says, “Keep smiling, Dave!” That sounds like a good plan.

Mile 8 – We crest a small hill and I shout, “We’re running the Boston friggin’ Marathon!” I expect a small cheer from the runners; I get the quiet sound of footfalls. These runners are focused!

Mile 10 – I keep missing mile markers, which makes me glad I’m not being a slave to my mile splits. I would be going crazy by now. I’m also happy that the miles are clicking by easily and quickly, despite the continued rumblings inside my body. I feel like crap, but I think to myself, “You’re running with some of the best marathoners in the world, and you’re holding your own.” Still smiling.

Mile 11 – By now, I’ve visited 2 portajohns and made an unscheduled stop between two trucks in a Uhaul lot. I’ve tried to drink a lot of Gatorade to both flush and replenish my bodily fluids. It doesn’t seem to be helping.

Mile 12 – Large banners read “Brace your ears.” We’re nearing Wellesley College, a.k.a., “the scream tunnel.” For about half a mile, Wellesley coeds hang over the barricades and shriek at the runners, all the while holding signs: “Kiss me, I’m a senior,” “Kiss me, I’m a nerd,” “Kiss me, I want fast babies,” “Kiss me, I’m easy.” Efforts like this absolutely must be rewarded, so I set my sights on one young blond whose lips were covered in bright red lipstick. I offered my right cheek, but she turned my face and planted a big, red kiss smack on my lips! That was so exhilarating, I selected another beauty to reward, this one holding a “Kiss me, I’m English!” sign. Hey, I was an English major in college, so it was fitting.

HALFWAY – After the scream tunnel, there was a brief letdown as we hit an unpopulated patch of the course, then we cross the halfway point. I forced a big smile so my photos would look good, but deep down in my still-turbulent gut, I thought, “Great. Now I have to do that all over again.” I think of my sister, who has survived cancer for over 20 years. She never gave up; I won’t either.

Mile 15 – DAMN THIS HEADACHE! DAMN MY STOMACH! I feel like &*%@ and I’ve still got to get up and over those hills! Just keep smiling – make your body believe you’re okay. I think of Kristin, a cancer survivor and fellow DetermiNation committee member. Over the past seven years, she’s endured multiple brain surgeries and battled vertigo while training for – and completing – marathons and Ironman triathlons. She never game up; I won’t either.

Mile 16 – Okay, get ready for the hills. First, the I-95 overpass, then the four Newton hills. Alright, there’s the first ACS Cheer Station! I slide over to the left side of the road and high five the volunteers who are out there supporting our DetermiNation team. Thank you, volunteers! A legitimate smile crosses my face.

Mile 17 – My “athletic supporters” (wife, daughter, sis-in-law and niece) said they’d be here. I’m scanning both sides of the road and listening intently for my wife’s distinctive “WHOO HOO!” (she’s small, but she’s got a mighty whoop!) No sign of them. Did I miss them? Did they make it here? Will they be at our next checkpoint at mile 22? No time to worry about it – here’s the hard right turn onto Commonwealth Ave. I allow myself a glance up at the first hill so I can finally judge its level of difficulty. Hey, it’s not as long or steep as I thought! I’ve run plenty of hills just like this in training! I lower my head a bit and invoke my second mantra: “Hills make me stronger.” At the crest, mantra three rolls out: “Downhills heal me.” I repeat this as I lean forward slightly and breathe deeply, letting gravity do the work while keeping my legs from applying any braking force. I’m still smiling, and it’s no longer forced. A few people yell, “Go Dave!”

Mile 18 – Another hill – up and over, no problems. “Hills make me stronger. Downhills heal me.” The road dips down and heads up again. Wait … is this hill 3, or is it 2A and 2B? I recall one description of a “double-dip hill.” Was that it? Do I have one more hill or two? Hey, wait … my head doesn’t hurt anymore! And my stomach is okay! My body has converted stress into focused energy! The smile gets bigger. The cheers of “Go Dave!” increase.

Did I miss another mile marker? It seems like forever since that mile 18 sign. The hills are challenging but not that tough. I should be at 19 by now. Another hill. Damn, I wish I knew if this were 3 or 4! Oh well, focus: “Hills make me stronger.”

At the top, a man is announcing over loudspeakers, “You’ve just reached the top of Heartbreak Hill! Heartbreak is behind you!” I yell, “That was it? That was nothing!” A guy next to me says, “Dave?” I turn to see it’s Bill, a fellow DetermiNation committee member from the Phoenix team. I met him in January when I ran the Rock ‘n Roll Arizona half-marathon. What a funny coincidence to run into him, literally, at the top of Heartbreak!

Mile 21 – The smile is now what my dad would call a “shit-eatin’ grin.” I never understood that phrase, but I like it right now. I pull out another mantra I made specifically for this point of this race: “There is no Heartbreak when you run with DetermiNation.” It may be a little cheesy, but I firmly believe it. Without the support, encouragement and inspiration of the ACS DetermiNation team, I never would have achieved the goal of running in the Boston Marathon.

Mile 22 – The worst is far behind me, but I’m not home free. I forgot to take a gel at mile 20 as planned, and I’m getting light-headed. I also need to pee … badly! I pop into a portajohn, my 4^th such stop since I started running. Is my pee orange? Did I really see that, or was it some illusion? If it were really orange, that’s bad. But I’m feeling pretty decent, all things considered. After what I’ve been through so far, there’s no way in hell I’m stopping now! I walk briefly to collect my thoughts and gather some mental energy. A group of Boston College guys sees me walking and starts chanting, “Dave! Dave! Dave! Dave! Dave!” until I resume running, at which point they let out a “YEA!” that acted like a turbo boost on my gait.

Veering across the course at mile 22 to hug my crew

Up ahead, the road curves left. I hear something. Could that be … yes, that’s the “WHOO HOO!” I know and love! MJ, AJ, sis-in-law and niece are standing with the second ACS Cheer Station. I swing over to the right side and give my wife a huge salty hug. Sis-in-law snaps a picture. AJ hands me a banana and yells, in a rather exasperated voice, “Go, Dad! GO!”

I’m walking briskly while eating half of the banana. More of the crowd begins the chant “Dave! Dave! Dave! Dave! Dave!” Again, I resume running and again they let out a collective “YEA!” This crowd will not let you stop. In seven previous marathons, I’ve never seen – or heard – this level of crowd support. It’s truly amazing.

Miles 23-25 – These miles slide by relatively quickly. I’m beaming and soaking up the cheers and applause. Near mile 24, I see a sign “Pain is temporary. Pride lasts forever.” This is exactly the same as my final mantra, which I call on now. I believe in this so much, it’s engraved on my Road ID bracelet. At mile marker 25, I “kick it in,” determined to finish this race as fast as I can. I feel great. My legs are not the solid tubes of lead that they usually are at this stage. That’s as much a testament to the crowd support as it is to the hundreds of training miles I logged to get here.

Mile 26 – Hang a right on Hereford Street – there’s a wall of people on both sides! Left on Boylston – the large blue finish line “bridge” is finally in sight! People are everywhere! I’m sprinting (or so it feels). My smile somehow grows larger. Photographers line the street. My arms rise in victory as I cross the thick blue line with yellow letters “114^th Boston Marathon.” I did it!

I just ran the Boston Marathon!

My time was 3:31:54. Three minutes off of the personal best that qualified me for Boston and a mere 55 seconds from re­-qualifying to run it again. Still, this was my second-fastest marathon. With the physical and mental challenges I endured for the first two-thirds of the race, I was very happy with this time. I know I can run Boston faster, and I look forward to it in 2011.

MJ Honors Me with the Celebration Jacket

After getting my medal and retrieving my gear, I went to the ACS DetermiNation celebration in the Park Plaza Hotel. Somehow, I managed to get there before my personal cheer squad did, but they were hot on my heels. After more salty hugs and kisses all around, MJ bestowed upon me the prize that I’ve had as my single point of focus for 16 months: the brilliant blue and yellow Boston Marathon jacket.

And with that, the celebration began. To be continued … in 2011!

Running with DetermiNation

Related posts:

1. Boston Bound