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
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