I ran Boston. And I finished. And I kissed two coeds. Other than that, it pretty much stunk. Cramps all over the place, I cramped in places I didn't know you could cramp.
More details later...
Well, I got top 10,000 with a 12,000+ bib, so maybe I didn't stink all that much... So let's dissect this and figure out what went wrong. On one of the running boards where I hang out, they have a saying, which is not entirely family-friendly, abbreviated as BOTT. BOTT, stripped of its crude connotations, means pick a goal, commit to it, and go for it. My BOTT goal was 3:25, which would have been a 7-minute PR. BOTT is a high-risk strategy. If it pays off, it pays off big. And that's what I was going for. But if it goes wrong, you look like death warmed over at 30K. Which I did.
Plan from Greg Maclin's spreadsheet was to take it easy the first mile, like 8:07ish, then settle it around 7:50 pace for a while. And I did that: 8:08, 7:50, 7:52, 7:47. Picked it up a little in mile 5 with a nice downhill, to 7:40, then 7:51, 7:38, 7:40. Ten-K split was 48:46, less than three minutes above my 10K PR. I'm trying to monitor my body, see how I'm feeling, and so far so good.
One issue: I took a 12-ounce bottle of Gatorade on course, hoping to avoid the congestion around the early aid stations. Plan was to drink half at mile 2, the other half at mile 4. Well, I didn't. I don't remember exactly when I finished that 12-ounce bottle, but it was at least mile 6, maybe even later. Which means I started myself in the hole as far as hydration goes. I know better, but I did it anyway. Maybe I blow up anyway, but better hydration would certainly have helped. The weather was beautiful, but anything over 50 degrees is problematic for me when I'm running 26.2, even when I'm drinking more than I did.
Anyway, back to the course. I'm trying to have fun out there, high-fiving a few kids, but I'm also trying to focus, running tangents when traffic allows, working on my breathing. Mile 9 was 7:50, then 7:52. But now trouble starts to pop up, and the times show it: 8:03, 8:07. I'm hoping it's just a bad patch that I'll come out of, but not looking good, and I knew it. Next two miles: 7:58 (including those two coeds), then 8:03. Halfway split: 1:43:37. Not looking good for that 3:25 goal, but if I can hold things together and run a small positive split, I can get a PR and a BQ.
Now the calves are starting to twitch like they do in all my marathons. Never happens in training -- NEVER -- but every time in a race, and always in the same spot. Hammies don't feel too good either. I try shortening my stride, speeding up, few other things, but I'm deteriorating and I know it. Thought at this point is hold pace as long as I can, maybe the downhill going into Newton will snap me out of it.
Mile 14 split was 7:56, then I missed the next mile marker (which in itself is a bad sign), so I got a two-mile split for miles 15-16 of 16:16. Uh oh. And the cramps aren't coming now, they're here. But they're moving around. A calf will tighten, then loosen, then a hamstring, then my right foot, then the other calf, then some toes... That went on for the rest of the race. Going uphill actually seemed to help; maybe the slope stretched the calves a bit. And the walk monster is starting to creep in when the cramps hit. Miles 17-20: 8:27, 8:41, 8:29, 8:43. The 30K split was 2:29:37, so 8.9K took 47 minutes.
Then came HBH: 9:13. I made sure I didn't walk up HBH, but I sure wasn't running very fast. Mile 22 with the big downhill went a little better, 8:22, but I'm still hurting big time. I'm still hoping at this point that I can squeeze in under 3:35, which would at least be a nominal BQ if not good enough to get in for 2012, but every time I try to speed up, the cramps get worse. Pretty much walking through water stations (and guzzling Gatorade and water) at this point. Mile 23, I'm about to die: 9:50; 24 had a little downhill and I managed 9:06, then 9:02 for 25. The little dip under Mass Avenue got me, and mile 26 was 9:23. But after mile 23, I know BQ is gone. I just want to finish without walking any more.
Right on Hereford, left on Boylston. Normally I have a little surge in the final half-mile, but not this time. My "surge" on Boylston is to get back to what I should have been running anyway, 8:00 pace. Finish time 3:38:06.
I kept expecting one of those medical volunteers in the chute to bodyslam me into a wheelchair, and I don't think I would have objected a bit. Not sure how I kept moving down Boylston to the blankets and the food and the fluids, but I was drinking everything I could get my hands on. It took me about five minutes to get my sweatpants on after I retrieved my bag from the bus, it seemed; the legs did not want to move. Brain wasn't working too well either; navigating to Jury's to meet some friends was a laborious process.
How did I screw it up? I think 3:25 was too optimistic, and I think I let myself dehydrate very quickly; the Gatorade bottle strategy was a fail, and I definitely should have hit more water stops than I did. If I'd targeted 3:30, though, I might have pulled that off, or at least faded a lot less. But I'm still fairly new at this stuff; Boston was only my fifth marathon. Now I just have to figure out somewhere to requalify, if not for 2012, maybe 2013. The OCD in me says try something like Newport or VCM, the medical professional in me says "you moron, you just beat hell out of yourself for 218 minutes and you want to do it again in six weeks????"
But even with a 10-mile death march, I wouldn't have traded this weekend for anything. Throughout my three-year obsession, I imagined what Boston would be like. I was wrong. It was better than I expected.
It's been about 55 hours now since I crossed the starting line in Hopkinton. A lot has changed in those two days. I'm now a Boston Finisher. And I will always be a Boston Finisher. And I made an incredible number of friends in those three days. So yeah, I guess dreams do come true -- even if a little slower than I had hoped. | 