By Chris Minns – Excelent read!
Race starts at 10AM Monday morning, about 20 miles out from Boston in a place called Hopkinton. To get there, runners are bussed from Boston Common (right downtown) in the biggest convoy of school buses I’ve ever seen. I’m aiming to get to the Common for 6:30, so after breakfast and putting on my throwaway clothes, I’m off to the T stop at Davis Square to catch the subway. Only problem is as I start putting away my T pass and emergency money, I realize that I’m still wearing my boxer shorts. Running shorts are back in the apartment. Maybe someday I’ll run a marathon in underwear, but today was not the day. I hustle back, get changed, catch the next train which gets me there 10 minutes before the last buses for my wave leave (6:50).
Get down to Boston Common, the sun is coming up and there is a bit of excitement in the air with the runners milling around and the huge army of volunteers. I get on a bus. I sit next to a guy with a “Canada” hat, and we get to talking on the long ride out to the start (~50 minutes). He was hoping to run 3:15, but had to reduce his target to 3:20 due to a tricky knee. He’s 74!!! Turns out he won his age category at Boston and New York last year, lives about an hour from where I grew up.
We get to Hopkinton, a cute New England village, and there are folks are roadside cheering the buses on as we pull into the high school parking lot. I get into the athlete’s village, which is packed but incredibly well run. A medical tent is handing out heat retention capes, sunscreen, and a beeswax version of bodyglide. There are bagels, powerbars, gels, gatorade, coffee, water, yoghurts, and I don’t know what else. Volunteers are circulating to help anyone who might need something. I stretch out on the grass on a charity shop towel, next to a kid from North Dakota called Jake. Winter was tough on the prairies this year, and he tells me he did all his long runs on an indoor track. That’s 8 laps a mile, 160+ laps for a long run (he also runs ultras, I bet he had some 200+ lap runs). I’m not making this up.
About 35 minutes to start I start to walk jog the kilometer or so from the village to the start. The people of Hopkinton are lining the way, there are signs, cheers, high fives, even a couple of frat boys handing out beers. 15 minutes later I’m outside my corral. Someone starts singing the Star Spangled Banner, when that’s done I enter the start, and soon enough the gun goes.
At the start my legs feel great from the taper after 2 months of really good training, but working against me is the product of the latest cold/allergic reaction that settled in my sinuses with 2-3 weeks to go. So I don’t know how it’s going to go. The answer is pretty clear after 2-3K: slow! Boston starts on a pretty wicked downhill for the first mile or so, followed by a sharp rise to 2K, before a long downhill stretch until 7-8K. This is the challenge of running Boston – with all the hills, do you run even pace, or even effort? I convinced myself with a little on-line research to go the second route, but if I can do it again I would probably let the pace vary a bit more. A lot of the other experienced guys were dropping me going down, slowing down more going up, and I was no more ready for the last painful bit having tried to save the legs early. Trying to bank time early in a marathon is a really bad idea, but it probably makes sense to work with the course more (like in a hilly half), as your legs get pretty beat up when you try to hold back on the drops.
I think I go through 5K in 18:34. Normally the first stretch can be pretty quiet (it’s semi-rural), but this year there are hordes of people everywhere. It’s loud, it’s sunny, there is absolutely no wind. First and only quiet stretch is about 7K, by then I’ve settled in a group with some other decent old guys, apparently we go through a couple sub 5:50 miles, but I desperately need to pee. Do this road side at the quiet stretch, the bladder feels better but then I’m running with stragglers from the ~2:35 group and never get back in the thick of it.
The course flattens about between 8 and 9K, although there are still little dips and little rises as you go. The course runs through seven or eight towns as you make your way to Boston. Out here the crowds are massive in the centre of Framingham and Natick, but there are folks on the roadside everywhere. I get to 10K in around 37 (so a decent last 5K leaving out the pee break), but by this point I’m feeling pretty sick so the focus is on staying comfortable in the hope that there’s something later in the race.
Don’t remember too much between 10K and 20K, when there’s a little drop that takes you to Scream Tunnel, where the Wellesley co-eds line the road to “encourage” the runners. I high five a bunch, but decide not to stop to make out with anyone, wouldn’t want to spread the germs and you never know who could turn up in an LSE seminar. One guy does sprint ahead to take advantage, but he’s walking before we leave town. After passing the college we’re soon into the centre of Wellesley, where the road is a little wider and there are an insane number of spectators. Halfway time is about 3 minutes slower than planned, but I stopped paying attention to the splits well before. There’s a last steep drop out of Wellesley – the legs complain a bit on this one, but I’m feeling a little better (probably because I slowed down a touch). Good thing, because the road is about to start going up.
The first serious hill is a long steady drag in Lower Newton on a pretty exposed part of the course (goes over the interstate). Ofter there are nasty crosswinds here, but there’s barely a puff of wind, and the temperature’s perfect. We pass the hospital and soon we’re at the spot (~17 miles) where Delphine. Lucy, and Colin are standing. Supposedly it normally it can be quieter section… but this year it’s 10 deep, we see each other at the last minute. A minute or two later it’s the most famous right right turn in running, the one that every marathon runner has anticipated and feared in equal measure for over 100 years at the Newton firehouse. Take the turn and you’re staring up at firehouse hill, which is a proper pace breaker just when you’re starting to feel a little tired. The crowds are great here – you’re less than 15K from the finish, but it’s starting to get tough. A lot of the spectators through here have watched 20+ Bostons (and even run a few), and they know what to say. I catch some guys going up, who promptly run away going down (this is when I decided I’d pace it differently “next time”). We get to the next hill and the same thing happens. And again on the third. At the time I think that’s Heartbreak Hill done, but there is another one at Boston College which I realize now is the famous one. Through all this I’m running a little slower with all the climbing, but I feel fine other than slightly sore legs and hearing loss with all the snot moving around through the tubes in my head.
After Boston College/Heartbreak Hill, there’s a steep little downhill to Cleveland Circle, where you turn onto Beacon Street and are soon running though the city proper for the first time, downhill all the way. I ran this part of the course earlier in the week, and thought it would hurt going down with 35K+ in the legs. I was right. My hamstring starts to go a bit on the sharp drop to Beacon Street, once we’re there about half of the guys in the race are really struggling (often worse than me), the other half are coming through. I start counting down the # of minutes to the finish. With about three K to go I can see the massive Citgo sign at ~1 mile to go. Get up that little hill (actually pass some people?!?), and it’s back to going down. Go under Mass Ave with 1K to go, turn right on Hereford, turn left on Boylston, and my race is done, at last!
It is the best-manned finish area I have ever seen. Someone comes to put on your medal. Someone comes to give you a heat retention cape and offers to put it on you. Someone comes to bring you some water. I get asked 3 times if I need a wheelchair. I can’t hear a thing, my ears are completely blocked. I keep shuffling through to Arlington Street, limp across Boston Common where I find Colin, still running strong!
We head back to Somerville to grab some lunch, and what started as an emotional day for a lot of people in Boston has turned into the usual Patriots Day holiday afternoon scene, with hobbling runners in their Marathon jackets, sunburnt spectators making their way home, the bars and restaurants filled with people eating lunch and sinking a few beers with finish line coverage playing in the corner of the room. Everyone treats you like a champion if you have a medal and/or are walking funny. The marathon has taken the city back.
When I finished I wasn’t so sure about whether I really wanted to do another marathon ever again, but since I’ve got it in mind to find a way to go back. I’m even trying to talk Delphine into going for the qualifying standard in Brighton next April! I would recommend it to anyone. Boston Marathon weekend is America at its best. It is the best organized race I have ever run. The course is a unique challenge and a monument to the history of distance running. Boston is a real runner’s town, and never more so than marathon weekend. Qualifying for Boston (similar to GFA for London) also adds a lot to the race ambience. You are among runners. You don’t need to be anywhere near elite to get into Boston, but you have to put in a good shift to make it. Everyone on the start line knows what it’s like to run every day, has experienced the highs and lows of racing and training, etc. A lot of people back home start running with the goal of trying to one day qualify for Boston, and have worked really hard to get there from a starting point of zero. As a bonus the 5K on Saturday is a classy race if you need another running reason to go. I’m not really into bucket lists or destination races at all (like keeping the racing and holidays separate), but this is a worthwhile exception. Consider it!
