Paul has already written up a much better summary of our Boston Marathon experience than I could, but I'll just add a few personal details.
I spent the days prior to the race looking at the weather reports and trying to find a reason to believe it wasn't going to be that bad. At some point I just decided that since it wasn't anything that I could change and since I'd already decided to run it that I wouldn't worry about it any more. That seemed to help as I left the hotel around 5:30 am to head for the buses at Boston Commons. It was raining steadily and the wind was around 30 mph gusting to 40 or so. I brought clothes for a variety of conditions, thinking that I could just dispose of what I didn't need along the way. I was at Boston Commons before 6:30 and was happily surprised to find that the rain had stopped and the wind had noticeably slackened. I didn't expect it to hold but was encouraged that it was at least pleasant for a few minutes. I met Tom a short time later and we went to get in line for the buses. It had started to rain again but that time and it seemed like we waited a long time before we boarded the bus. I noticed that there were a lot of grim faces, but determined faces on the buses.
As I thought that we would get to Hopkinton well around 8 am (based on our expected departure from Boston Commons by 7:00 or 7:30), I didn't even think to look for Paul immediately. Tom and I headed for the portapotty line as we both needed some relief. It was a very soggy walk across the field, but there was a growing sense of excitement. I pulled out my phone at that point and was surprised to see that Paul had called (I guess my phone was too buried in layers of clothes to notice). I called him back and we soon figured out where we were. I was quite surprised to find out how late it was. It was great to finally see Paul and head to the edge of one of the big tents to try to get ready for the race. They'd already called for the first wave, so we hurriedly changed into drier clothes before heading for the corrals. The conditions were far from ideal, but the whole thing was still very exciting. I had skipped many of my pre-race hydration, fueling and stretching rituals, but it seemed at that point that most everyone was just in survival mode. I really didn't know what to expect heading into the race. My knee had really been bothering me in the weeks leading up to the race to the point that a five mile run would leave it sore for four or five days. I tried to rest it as much as possible in the previous two weeks, but that meant I'd hardly run in the last month. My knee wasn't hurting at all during the start, but I put on a neoprene brace just to help as much as possible. My primary, secondary and tertiary goal was to finish.
It was thrilling to start the race and to realize that the long awaited moment was here. What could be better than running the Boston Marathon with my good buddies Paul and Tom! A thousand impressions and sensations made the miles just fly by. At about six miles I started to sense that the easy part of the race was going to end before long. I tried to brush that feeling away, but it just seemed to linger. When we stopped for a portapotty break, my legs felt unusually tight and drained of energy. My knee wasn't really hurting, but I'd pretty much decided that the underlying source of my knee problem was very tight hamstrings which seemed to be getting even tighter.
We got going again, but I could feel that things were starting to head south (although we were actually moving northeast). Approaching Wellsley College it was easy to forget your troubles as you could hear the screaming in the distance. It was incredible to run through that stretch of the race and just draw strength from all their energy. As we finally passed that section of the course my body started telling me it had had enough. I had to remind it that we were only at the half way point and that we weren't going to be quitting. I tried to hang with Paul and Tom for the next few miles, but I finally had to tell them to just go ahead. Neither Paul nor Tom seemed anxious to go, but after a couple of additional stops and entreaties, Tom reluctantly went on ahead. Paul insisted that he couldn't have kept up with Tom and wanted to stay back, but you just have to know from the nails that he eats for breakfast that he would have found a way to do it.
Over the next ten miles I continued to test the limits of Paul's patience. He never wavered or failed for a moment to stay positive and cheerful (despite his own pain). There were times when I felt worse and times when I felt a little better, but I'd already made up my mind that I'd finish one way or another. As Paul mentioned we finished strong. I felt pretty wasted, especially as you have to walk such a long way to pick up your medal and clothes bag, but I was very happy at what we'd accomplished. Despite or even because of the pain, it was an awesome experience. It reconfirmed my faith in the goodness and selflessness of others. Thank you, Paul. Thank you, Tom. And thanks to all the volunteers and spectators that came out in the wind and rain to help us find our way to the finish.
Note: I categorized these miles under marathon pace, not because we were really going that fast, but because it seems wrong to put them under "Easy Miles."
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