Done.

So there hasn't been much in the way of rest for me since the big day - I took the next day off of work, but I've been back at it ever since. This is the first real chance I've had to write and it's because I'm in the car with Molly on the way back to Rochester to see my Mom again. Holy cow though, that race is amazing; and also quite peculiar.

The day started at 12:30am when I finally got to bed. at 1:30 my upstairs neighbor started playing music pretty loudly. I slept restlessly until the alarm went off at 5am. I met the team at the hotel in Boston and boarded the bus by 6:30. As we got on the turnpike we were stopped by a motorcycle cop so that 12 other tour buses could go by with their police escort. I assume that these buses carried the elite runners out to the start and it was pretty eerie to watch the motorcycle police shift positions around the buses as other traffic got close. The elite runners are from all over the world, but we regular runners tend to refer to them as "The Kenyans" because that country has been so dominate in running these past few years - though the winner of the mens race was from Ethiopia this year.

Out in Hopkinton it's foggy, cool and windy - but by 9:00 the sun has started to burn off some of the fog - the wind was there to stay unfortunately. I spent several restless hours with my fellow runners trying to keep warm, fed, water and dewatered before the race began,
but looking back it doesn't seem like that time was so dreadful after all. There was a flyover of F-15s at the starting time for the elite women and wheelchair racers. Around 10:15 the Liver Team started walking to the start line, which was over a half-mile away from where
we had been waiting. We jumped into our corral and moved along towards the start with something like 25,000 other excited/nervous runners. In the distance we can hear the voices of the man and woman that the Boston Athletic Association (BAA) hires to sort of MC the
start and they actually call out peoples names as they get to the start - not everyone's mind you, but I'd bet it'd feel special if it was your name they called out. Gun time for the elite men and
"regular folk" like us was 10:30 - or so I'm told; I've never heard a starting gun at any race I've ever done and Boston was no different. We just kept on walking and eventually a space opened up in front of us at the starting line and just like that, we started running.

Bam, I had started the marathon, except without the bam.  Now, everyone had told me that one of the multiple dangers of this particular race is that it starts on a downhill and and that combined with adrenaline and running in a crowd makes you start too fast. The trick to this course is to run consistently, and I fully intended to do that. Any of you who were
tracking me that day know that I did not. Hopkinton is pretty rural here, and over the first few miles I saw both men and women running into the woods along the way to relieve themselves. This ended up being a pretty common sight right up until we got into Wellesley I think.

At the first mile I hit a perfect 10-minute mile. At the second mile I hit 9:57, the third mile was right in there too. Sounds good right? I'm right on my goal pace of 10-minute miles right? Well, the truth is, in training I never actually figured out how to hit the pace over a long distance - I'm really more of a 10:30-11:30 kind of a guy. So by mile 3 I knew I was going way too fast, and couldn't manage to slow it down at all. So I figured I might as well enjoy it while I could - and pulled the fastest half-marathon of my life.

But before I get ahead of myself I should tell you about some of the sights along the way. At the start I saw a guy with a shaved head covered in red make-up who only seemed to be wearing some kind of diaper-thing with the words "BC Superfan" hastily written across his back. At mile 1 a spectator had stolen a sign that read "Now entering Brookline" that pissed off the crowd of runners near me - Brookline isn't until mile 22 or so. Not long after that I saw a sign for a "shortcut" with an arrow pointing at someone's front door. Somewhere in Ashland I got passed by Wonder Woman - who still looked good even though she must've been in her 50s. At mile 9 I saw a swan land in a pond and was amazed at how gracefully it used it's webbed feet to slow itself by pushing them across the surface of the water, and for a moment it was as though my consciousness could see the distortion of the water in perfect detail. All along the first half spectators had signs up with the score of the Red Sox game - but no one knew how the American elite runners were doing (we had a decent chance at winning both men and women - but ended up with third in both). In Framingham we came right up next to a rail line just as westbound commuter train passed. The conductor leaned on his horn and the sound was deafening, all I could do was raise my fist in the air and yell "GOOOOO!!!".  Then I had to stop and tie my shoe. Somewhere near here Batman & Robin passed me and had their picture taken with Wonder Women. This might sound like I'm delirious a little early in the day, but this is for real, for some people it's not enough to run a marathon, they have to add some kind of excitement to it by dressing in a costume - like say a giant Solo Cup.

The best part of the first half was Wellesley College. It's a tradition that the fine young ladies of Wellesley come out and cheer on the runners - and they do so by making the loudest noise humanly possible, for a solid half-mile. You can hear it coming from a ways away, and as I did I found myself moving to the right of the course to be closer to the fans. I had my name on my shirt and it seems that every girl out there yelled it, and damn, there isn't much better for
your motivation than a thousand 20 year old women shouting your name in encouragement. Plus, they want you to kiss them. I can't explain that part of the tradition, but many of them had signs saying "Kiss me" or "Kiss me I'm Latina", "Kiss me I'm Asian" or even "Kiss me I'm a lesbian". I'll admit I wanted to stop for a kiss (and Molly said it'd be OK - if it was on the cheek) but their energy pushed me forward and before I knew it I was leaving the best mile of the course behind.

At some point I figured out that my quads hurt - something that happened in training after 13 or 16 miles, but I this hit me at around 10 - way too early. Plus I had a blister forming. Not good. My pace was slowing some, but I still hadn't walked yet and knew that I should soon. I
walked only after the waterstop after the half-way mark, and as I slowed down to get the cup of water I felt that damned blister pop.  In that instant I was terrified of my next step, the last popped blister I had made every step after it a special agony - and 13.1 miles like that would be hell. Something worked in my favor this time though, and there was no pain. Whew. At this point I was into the tony suburb of Wellesley and let me tell you, I thought that town
would never end. It just dragged on and on and on. The high point of this (after the college girls) was seeing Molly's second cousin Randy looming in the crowd. I just looked up and there he was, I gave him a hug without thinking or slowing down and he pounded me on the back so
hard it nearly knocked the wind out of me!

Like I said, Wellesley wore on and on, and eventually I crossed I-95 and headed up the hill to mile 16.5 where the Liver Team has it's spectator area. Here Molly, Becky, Sofia, German, Jennie and Bec were waiting to cheer me on. I guess I didn't let on to them that my quads
were like solid rock because they all still say I looked great. There was time for quick hugs and a few pictures before I was on my way again. On into Newton to face the dreaded hills and their queen, Heartbreak.

I kept my head down for the first hill and made it up without much trouble. There was some more walking before the second one, but I made it up that one okay too and it was in here somewhere that bunch of high school kids did "The Wave" in time with me as I passed. Just
before Heartbreak I saw my friends Ski and Kath. Ski is a great runner and he asked me if I wanted help up Heartbreak. I told him yes and he jumped onto the course in his jeans and sambas, shouting to his wife that he'd be right back. Up we went and man that hurt. Just before
the top I saw one of my recent clients and gave her a good surprise.  Ski talked me through the last bit before jumping out at BC and handing me into the care of the rowdy, likely drunken, Boston College students. I've been told that the course quiets down here but not today. No, the BC kids shouted nearly as loud as the Wellesley girls. This really helped me through mile 21, the "Silent Mile".  I was also glad that my already abused quads didn't react badly to the  downhill after Heartbreak which is another classic problem for runners on this course. I was pushing ahead to mile 22.5 because Bec was there to meet me there and run me in from there. To my relief she was about a half mile early and was wearing a shirt that read "GO ANDY".
This seemed to resonate with the crowd because for the next 4 miles I was met by cheering spectators yelling "GO ANDY!" - I can't describe how much this helped. Down into Cleveland Circle we went and saw Karla "The Sartor!" cheering for me.

Now we're in Brookline for sure and the course straightened and leveled out for a bit. Somewhere in here we saw Brandy and Ryan, and to my surprise Brandy jumped in and ran for a spell too. Ryan followed along on his bike taking video which I might post if he ever sends it to me. Seeing them was pretty awesome. At the last water stop the I used I recognized one of the volunteers as a someone that I had had about 3 dates with about 6 years ago - I just gave her a big hug for the hell of it.

I keep talking about how good it is to to see friends and have the crowd on my side for a reason - I wasn't sure if I'd finish. I knew I had it in me mentally, but my legs were really messed up and I was hurting bad. I worried that at some point I'd hit a hill or something and my legs would just stop and I wouldn't be able to finish. It happens to people, and seeing my friends pushed me on.

Just before Citgo Hill (bridge really) we passed a guy running with flag of the US Navy held above his head on a short flagpole. I gave him a "Go Navy!" on my way by. Into Kenmore Square and I had 1 mile to go.  To my right were people just out of the Sox game including
former Liver runners Rhianne and Corrine, then on my left The Sartor appeared again! But I wasn't there was still more to do, and so on we went.

Out of Kenmore Square the course takes you underneath the overpass of Mass Ave, and so there's a short downhill and uphill that feels like a mountain, and then it's that famed right Hereford and left on Boylston It's not as easy as that because of course hereford has an
uphill that crests at the left turn. But we made that turn and the finish line was in sight! But damn, it seemed so far away. Then on our right was my family again! There to cheer me into the last quarter mile! I made it across that line with a smile on my face and the official clock read 5:11.22.

After that is was off to get my finishers medal, foil blanket and bag, and I met Molly and my family back at the hotel. There I saw all my Liver friends and heard the story of their runs. Some were remarkably good, while others had sadness, one guy passed out just after  Heartbreak Hill and didn't finish. Two of our runners were injured and finished the course just as they were finishing disassembling it, one earned her medal with  a time of over 9 hours!

It's really hard to sum up my emotions about this day and this run, there really is just too much to say. It wasn't just this one day, it was all the days in the last four months that brought me there. The training for a marathon is a marathon itself, and this one had ice storms, snow, cold, blisters, old friends, deadlines, fundraisers, holidays, a round of layoffs, sick mothers, sick grandmothers, new friends, fights with state licensing boards, bloody nipples, and chafing to name just the high points. This time I really saw how life goes on while you're training and that can derail your whole plan, which makes it all the more meaningful to run the marathon behind a man with a shirt that reads: "Stroke survivor - 50th marathon" or "Cancer survivor, 50th marathon in 50 states". Or running alongside the guy with obvious signs of Parkinsons Disease, or the blind runner with his guide, the woman with a prosthetic foot, the man with two prosthetic legs, the Iraq War vet in his hand-cranked wheelchair, and even the couple in their 60s running with a rubber tube tied to each others waist so that they wouldn't lose each other. All these people have a story at least as interesting and challenging as the one I've been
telling you these past few months (probably a better one really) and we all came together and did the same course, under our own power, and it doesn't matter if we did it in 2:08 like the Kenyans, or in 9 hours (because it's impressive to do anything that physical for that long).

So I'd like to thank you all for sticking with me these last few months - and for reading this far into this rambling novella I'm writing. Your kind words and financial support have been a great help to me, and to the Liver foundation. I'd like to thank everyone that called my name while I was running, I tried to mention all of you that I know of in this blog and if I missed you I'm sorry. It's been a great journey, and I wish you all the best of luck in your own lives.

One last thing, people keep asking me if I'll do it again next year.
The answer to that is yes.

There are pictures here:  http://web.me.com/andyhint/Canaveral/113th_Boston_Marathon.html 

Why. (3 of 3)

So the Why. blogs have tried to tell you about my motivations for committing to the arduous task of running this marathon.  First I tried to explain why running goes with charities, and then I tried to explain why I chose this particular charity.  Today I tell you why I run.  

Many of you who know me from my middle and high school days know that I was a swimmer and didn't much care for running.  That was true right up until I moved to Boston, and then something new happened. 

Peer pressure.

I fell in with a group of great people who were runners and one night at Charlie's Kitchen we got to talking about one of my new friends marathon training and that's when I realized that nearly everyone around the table had already run one.  In that moment I knew that there was nothing that I could do that would equal the experience that they all shared - except to run a marathon.  Later that year the opportunity came up and I knew I had to try.  

So peer pressure is what got me started, but that won't get you across the finish line and then into another race.  What is it that keeps me running?  It's simple really.

I run because I want to live.

I want to live to be 100 and I don't want to have to rely on medical science alone to get me there.  I know that one of the secrets to a long life and healthy mind is staying physically active, and running is the best way that I've yet found to do that.  Swimming and biking are great, but require an extra level of preparation that in the past have kept me from doing them on a regular basis.  Running gets me up and going, and as a bonus I often get to see parts of the world that I wouldn't normally.  Things like; sunrise, sunset, Venus, a waning Moon, ice-covered trees, budding trees, house demolition, house construction, bag pipes, installation art - all of the ebb and flow of the world that I live in.  It also gives me time to touch base with all of the great runner buddies that I have, most especially the one who sicced the peer pressure to run on me in the first place (I'm looking at you Bec).  And it is something that I can constantly improve on and use to give myself another challenge, which is how we prosper in life.  I intend to cross that finish line tomorrow, and it will not be easy, but knowing that it is one part of a larger journey, life, makes it a tiny bit better.

As always, I love you all and appreciate your support of me, my family, and the Liver Foundation.  Please be safe in your lives and your endeavors, if you think of me tomorrow please wish me luck, but know that what I do is easier than what many others have to on a daily basis.  

Now you know Why.

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Why. (2 of 3)

So, I don't really have anyone in my life that has liver disease. As far as I know there's no history of it in my family, none of my close friends have it, and as far as I know I'm not particularly at any great risk of getting it (knock on wood), so why am I running a marathon to support the American Liver Foundation? Well, there's two reasons.

1. I knew from the past few years of volunteering with the team while Molly was training that they are a well-organized group that views its' marathon team as an important part of it's fundraising effort and supports it accordingly. I'm really impressed at the well-organized long runs, options for mid-week runs (hill runs and track work - though I don't do the latter), the team coach, and that they've developed good community relationships which has lead to free access to a physical therapist. The day of the race there's a ton of support on the course and afterwards. Each month there's a team meeting which allows you to better know your teammates, gain training tips, get fundraising ideas and get a feel for how we're doing as a team to reach the larger fundraising goal. Plus, these meetings always had a component that taught us about liver disease. All in all, the American Liver Foundation is really there for it's runners, if I've ever had a question or problem there's always been someone there who can help me with it. Also there are a lot of returning runners who are not only helpful to new runners, but also are very welcoming and friendly. The fact that these people come back year after years means to me that the ALF is something worth coming back to. The sum of all this is that if an organization is going to go to all these lengths to maintain its running team on such a professional level then it must mean that it's conducting its own business on the same if not higher level.

2. It's a good cause. I know that there's a lot of good causes out there, especially when you talk about diseases, and I am not the person to tell you that one is better than another, but trying to stop liver disease is one of the good ones. Liver disease comes in many types and strikes a broad range of people, most people think liver disease is caused by drinking too much or being overweight, which is true in the case of fatty liver disease or alcohol-induced liver disease, but these are only part of the story. In our team meetings we heard about people coming down with liver disease who were otherwise healthy active people (one had ironically just run the marathon for the ALF before being diagnosed). We also heard about kids who contract biliary atresia shortly after they're born. This isn't a hereditary condition, doctors suspect that it is viral but that hasn't even been proven yet, and what's worse, without early detection (as in the first 3 months of life) biliary atresia is fatal. Another scary one is autoimmune hepatitis, which is when your body suddenly and unexpectedly starts attacking your liver as though it was a foreign bacteria. Doctor's don't know what causes that one either. There's something like 80 different liver diseases, each with their own cause, symptoms, treatments and effects. The liver is the common factor to them all and so the ALFs research into understanding how the liver works helps fight them all. In that way helping with their research actually helps cover my own (and your own) health in a broad number of ways.

With that, I am 3 days away from completing this journey. Stay tuned for the 3rd part of "Why."

Why. (1 of 3)

As I've said before, a lot of strange things go through my mind when I'm running. One of the most common for me is wondering why other people aren't running when I am. Many days I see people dressed for going to Temple or out to breakfast and I don't wonder about them so much since they've got something else going on and are all dressed up anyway. But a lot of the people I see are just regular people who, in my mind and at that moment, may as well be running. It's an "I'm doing it, why aren't you?" kind of thing. I'd like to point out at this point that when I'm not running and I see someone who is running I think that I should be running too - even if I'm on my way home from a long run - so I may be going crazy.

Naturally there are plenty of reasons that people aren't running. They could be unable, unwilling, uninterested, just have done a run, or any of thousands of other reasons that I won't go in to now, after all, running isn't for everybody. The only people that I don't question while I'm running and thinking along these lines are the homeless. Once I was running down the street and internally wondering why about everyone I passed, and then I saw a homeless guy and didn't wonder at all about him. I simply asked myself what I had that he didn't (apart from the obvious) and I knew it straightaway; energy. I live a kind of life that provides me with enough energy to get through my day of work and have enough extra that I can spend it on running ungodly distances. And if my usual diet isn't up to the task, I can afford to buy more food. The homeless guy might have the time to run 12 miles, but if he's scrounging for food then he certainly doesn't have energy to burn on running what is a net zero gain of distance (since I always end my run where I start it).

In this way training a marathon is somewhat like giving to a charity. I have extra time and energy that I choose to put into running. I also make enough money throughout the year that I can give some extra to a charity or two, which I'm happy to do. I'm not going to get any buildings named after me, but I give what I can. I'm willing to sacrifice some of my time, energy, and money to help what I think is a good cause, and I think it's the idea of mutual sacrifice that makes allies of running or walking and charities. I mean, it doesn't make a lot of sense to run for a good cause, the act of running doesn't help people with liver disease get any better; the money that is donated to the Liver Foundation does though. And so I take on two burdens; one is to run the equivalent distance from Marathon to Athens, and the other is to raise a significant amount of money for the American Liver Foundation. Many people don't see the value in either endeavor, but you my dear friends, family and supporters, do. For this I thank you. I am inches away from hitting the financial goal, and mere days away from the race itself. It is with your help that I've come this far and no matter what happens on the 20th, you have my gratitude. I understand that you have placed a lot of faith in me, and I will not let you down.

13 days.