The Boston Marathon
The alarm on my cell phone was set for 5:30, but by 5:15 I was lying awake watching dawn break over downtown Boston. By 5:20 I crept out of Anne’s room and into the hallway; it gushed with posters, streamers, and notes of encouragement. As I made my breakfast of old fashioned oatmeal (with cinnamon and raspberry jam stirred in), Anne woke up and joined me. Laid out on the living room table were three green shirts that together spelled “AMY.” When I saw the shirts I knew I had to run. I couldn’t have three people running around in shirts that spelled out my name and not finish the race!
Once I had dressed and put everything into the red bag BAA provided I stepped out of the apartment and was greeted by another decorated hallway! Complete with footsteps, a finish line made of streamers (that Anne insisted I run through and break), and a German-inspired good luck note near the elevator I became a little anxious. How could I not perform with so much support?
It was a quiet T ride to the Boston Common, but once there I became one in a mob swarming toward the line for the school buses. The lines snaked around with little order in an atmosphere of tension and anticipation. The line of school buses mechanically swept the runners off to Hopkinton, providing a feeling of being whisked away to a POW camp, only we were held captive only to ourselves and our tenacity.
While in line I met a fellow Coloradan, Maria, which was probably the best thing that could have happened. We talked the whole way out to Hopkinton and made our way through the fray in the Athlete’s Village together. After I changed into my race attire and throw-away sweats we walked toward the start together before she had to turn back to get ready for her start at 10:30. I arrived on the line after a quick sojourn to the portapot nerve-free and ready to go. My foot hurt as I got into my corral, but I didn’t care. The sun had come out and so long as my foot held up, it would be a good day.
Corral 12 was the third to last corral in the first wave, which meant it took nearly ten minutes for me to reach the actual starting line from when the gun went off. Actually, I was too far away from the gun to even hear it. I wanted to take the first mile out really easy, since it is downhill and first miles always end up faster than they should be because they feel so easy. Unfortunately, 7:45 was a little too easy, but there wasn’t a whole lot I could do. The crowd was as thick as pea soup and I was running all over the place trying to get around people, occasionally dashing across a front lawn or two. I knew there would be people cheering, but I had no idea there would be so many, especially all the way out in Hopkinton. For the first three miles I high-fived all the kids sticking out their hands, figuring that there will most likely never be another time in my life where so many people will want to high-five me. Despite the high-fives I managed to settle into a more respectable pace and click off some 7:00 miles. For the first time ever I managed to correctly work out the math for the times in my head, and I hit 10k perfectly on schedule. I knew Jordan would be checking my progress online and I wanted to be sure to stick to the plan: 7:15 pace for the first half, and then whatever is left for the rest.
I kept waiting for the mass of runners to thin out, but it never did. I went through the half in 1:34, right on schedule and it was feeling easy! At mile 14 it started to feel hard, my legs got a little heavy, but I held the pace together. I couldn’t wait to hit 16.8 because I my parents would be standing there. I hadn’t expected so many people to be lining the course, now I was just hoping I would see them. There were some rolling hills around miles 15 and 16 that slowed me a bit, but I used the downhills to get going again. Around 16.5 I started scanning the crowds for my parents. I didn’t know which side they would be on so I ran in the center of the road, searching both sides. About 50 meters before the 17 mile mark I saw my Mom’s yellow sign that read in big blue letters “ZOOM AMY D” and yelled to my Mom and Dad. They waved and my Dad clicked off a series of pictures that shows just how excited I was (very). After seeing them I felt energized again, got my head ready to deal with the Newton Hills, and looked forward to seeing my friends at Heartbreak.
Just as the fatigue was starting to really hit my legs, I turned onto Comm Ave and faced the Newton Hills. I started taking sips of Gatorade at the start of the hills and double-fisted a couple of the aid stations with a cup of water and a cup of Gatorade. I let scores of people pass me on the ups, and I got them back on the downs. Easy up, fast down. I lost count of the hills and although I ran Heartbreak dozens of times for workouts while at BU, I couldn’t tell when I was finally there. I only knew when I saw Mollie out of the corner of my eye. She was holding a big poster that read “The long run puts the tiger in the cat” and when she saw me took off running up the hill on the grass shouting and waving and most definitely cheering me up. Next came more of my friends, but I only saw Anne and Abbey, the “A” and the “M” who jumped out and ran with me until the top of the hill. Unfortunately this was the point when I was the most winded and was therefore the least jovial, and so I couldn’t fully express how great it was having them there.
Dropping down to BC my legs screamed, but I tried not to think of it, instead pondering how nice the BC kids were to cheer for me, and that maybe they aren’t so bad after all. Some of the cheers included, “BU sucks, but you’re doing good anyway!”
My legs had never hurt so much. It felt like a cheese grater had been taken to my quads. I didn’t care though, as long as my foot didn’t shoot with pain I knew I was fine. There was a dull pain for much of the race, but I didn’t think about it and therefore really didn’t notice it. On Beacon Street I saw a lot of people walking, and I could feel why they did. It was never a temptation, not only because of Jordan’s warnings, but also because I would be damned if I ran 22 miles and only to start walking right before I got to my old neighborhood! About a quarter mile before Coolidge Corner I saw Brian and Lisa and all I wanted to do was express my gratitude for him having helped me on Friday. All I could get out was, “Hey! I’m running!” Which in delirious Amy-speak translates to, “Thank you so much.”
The runners had spread out a bit on Beacon Street and entering my old neighborhood I decided to whoop it up, knowing (hoping) I would get a good amount of support from all the BU kids. I waved my arms like a nut, leaving me winded a few blocks later and making the Mass Pike overpass feel like High Grade, but it was worth it.
I was still riding high on the cheers from South Campus when I turned onto Hereford Street and right away saw my Mom’s yellow sign at the top of the hill. I hadn’t expected to see my parents here, and I again started waving to catch their attention. They were deep in the crowd and while I couldn’t exactly see them, I did see the sign and my Dad’s camera.
I rounded the corner onto Boylston and was shocked to find the finish so far away. Gradually it came closer and closer and I strode across the finish mat at 3:15:38. My foot had held up, and unlike Denver my stomach had held up. I did everything I could and I was very happy. My first thought was to make sure I got all of the free stuff. Yes, I need the space blanket and the sticker to make it into a cape. Yes to the bottle of water and the bag of grub. Sure, I would love a cup of Gatorade. I’ll trade you my timing chip for a finisher’s medal, straight up. Deal. I bit into my bagel less than three minutes after crossing the line, post-Denver Marathon Amy would be so proud! After fetching my red bag from bus #23, I went to the corner of Arlington where I met my parents.
Taking a page from the book of Jones, I downed a Coke on the T ride to my parents’ hotel in Coolidge Corner. Anne and Abbey met us there. The afternoon consisted of a little lounging about, cheering on some more runners, and a nice soak in the hotel hot tub. Unsurprisingly, the night found us at Border Café and later at T’s Pub. As much as I’d love to tell some tales of great post-marathon festivities, one beer with dinner was all I could muster, and after spending all day in the sun it was about the same for everyone else.
An amazing experience and an immensely satisfying race despite not hitting my goal-time of sub-3:10. Someday. This was one race that without a doubt I couldn’t have done without the help of a lot of other people: the airport employees on Thursday, Brian, my BU friends, my parents, everyone I train with in Denver, and obviously Jordan for his superb coaching and race-plan and everything else he does to keep me happy and training hard.
Once I had dressed and put everything into the red bag BAA provided I stepped out of the apartment and was greeted by another decorated hallway! Complete with footsteps, a finish line made of streamers (that Anne insisted I run through and break), and a German-inspired good luck note near the elevator I became a little anxious. How could I not perform with so much support?
It was a quiet T ride to the Boston Common, but once there I became one in a mob swarming toward the line for the school buses. The lines snaked around with little order in an atmosphere of tension and anticipation. The line of school buses mechanically swept the runners off to Hopkinton, providing a feeling of being whisked away to a POW camp, only we were held captive only to ourselves and our tenacity.
While in line I met a fellow Coloradan, Maria, which was probably the best thing that could have happened. We talked the whole way out to Hopkinton and made our way through the fray in the Athlete’s Village together. After I changed into my race attire and throw-away sweats we walked toward the start together before she had to turn back to get ready for her start at 10:30. I arrived on the line after a quick sojourn to the portapot nerve-free and ready to go. My foot hurt as I got into my corral, but I didn’t care. The sun had come out and so long as my foot held up, it would be a good day.
Corral 12 was the third to last corral in the first wave, which meant it took nearly ten minutes for me to reach the actual starting line from when the gun went off. Actually, I was too far away from the gun to even hear it. I wanted to take the first mile out really easy, since it is downhill and first miles always end up faster than they should be because they feel so easy. Unfortunately, 7:45 was a little too easy, but there wasn’t a whole lot I could do. The crowd was as thick as pea soup and I was running all over the place trying to get around people, occasionally dashing across a front lawn or two. I knew there would be people cheering, but I had no idea there would be so many, especially all the way out in Hopkinton. For the first three miles I high-fived all the kids sticking out their hands, figuring that there will most likely never be another time in my life where so many people will want to high-five me. Despite the high-fives I managed to settle into a more respectable pace and click off some 7:00 miles. For the first time ever I managed to correctly work out the math for the times in my head, and I hit 10k perfectly on schedule. I knew Jordan would be checking my progress online and I wanted to be sure to stick to the plan: 7:15 pace for the first half, and then whatever is left for the rest.
I kept waiting for the mass of runners to thin out, but it never did. I went through the half in 1:34, right on schedule and it was feeling easy! At mile 14 it started to feel hard, my legs got a little heavy, but I held the pace together. I couldn’t wait to hit 16.8 because I my parents would be standing there. I hadn’t expected so many people to be lining the course, now I was just hoping I would see them. There were some rolling hills around miles 15 and 16 that slowed me a bit, but I used the downhills to get going again. Around 16.5 I started scanning the crowds for my parents. I didn’t know which side they would be on so I ran in the center of the road, searching both sides. About 50 meters before the 17 mile mark I saw my Mom’s yellow sign that read in big blue letters “ZOOM AMY D” and yelled to my Mom and Dad. They waved and my Dad clicked off a series of pictures that shows just how excited I was (very). After seeing them I felt energized again, got my head ready to deal with the Newton Hills, and looked forward to seeing my friends at Heartbreak.
Just as the fatigue was starting to really hit my legs, I turned onto Comm Ave and faced the Newton Hills. I started taking sips of Gatorade at the start of the hills and double-fisted a couple of the aid stations with a cup of water and a cup of Gatorade. I let scores of people pass me on the ups, and I got them back on the downs. Easy up, fast down. I lost count of the hills and although I ran Heartbreak dozens of times for workouts while at BU, I couldn’t tell when I was finally there. I only knew when I saw Mollie out of the corner of my eye. She was holding a big poster that read “The long run puts the tiger in the cat” and when she saw me took off running up the hill on the grass shouting and waving and most definitely cheering me up. Next came more of my friends, but I only saw Anne and Abbey, the “A” and the “M” who jumped out and ran with me until the top of the hill. Unfortunately this was the point when I was the most winded and was therefore the least jovial, and so I couldn’t fully express how great it was having them there.
Dropping down to BC my legs screamed, but I tried not to think of it, instead pondering how nice the BC kids were to cheer for me, and that maybe they aren’t so bad after all. Some of the cheers included, “BU sucks, but you’re doing good anyway!”
My legs had never hurt so much. It felt like a cheese grater had been taken to my quads. I didn’t care though, as long as my foot didn’t shoot with pain I knew I was fine. There was a dull pain for much of the race, but I didn’t think about it and therefore really didn’t notice it. On Beacon Street I saw a lot of people walking, and I could feel why they did. It was never a temptation, not only because of Jordan’s warnings, but also because I would be damned if I ran 22 miles and only to start walking right before I got to my old neighborhood! About a quarter mile before Coolidge Corner I saw Brian and Lisa and all I wanted to do was express my gratitude for him having helped me on Friday. All I could get out was, “Hey! I’m running!” Which in delirious Amy-speak translates to, “Thank you so much.”
The runners had spread out a bit on Beacon Street and entering my old neighborhood I decided to whoop it up, knowing (hoping) I would get a good amount of support from all the BU kids. I waved my arms like a nut, leaving me winded a few blocks later and making the Mass Pike overpass feel like High Grade, but it was worth it.
I was still riding high on the cheers from South Campus when I turned onto Hereford Street and right away saw my Mom’s yellow sign at the top of the hill. I hadn’t expected to see my parents here, and I again started waving to catch their attention. They were deep in the crowd and while I couldn’t exactly see them, I did see the sign and my Dad’s camera.
I rounded the corner onto Boylston and was shocked to find the finish so far away. Gradually it came closer and closer and I strode across the finish mat at 3:15:38. My foot had held up, and unlike Denver my stomach had held up. I did everything I could and I was very happy. My first thought was to make sure I got all of the free stuff. Yes, I need the space blanket and the sticker to make it into a cape. Yes to the bottle of water and the bag of grub. Sure, I would love a cup of Gatorade. I’ll trade you my timing chip for a finisher’s medal, straight up. Deal. I bit into my bagel less than three minutes after crossing the line, post-Denver Marathon Amy would be so proud! After fetching my red bag from bus #23, I went to the corner of Arlington where I met my parents.
Taking a page from the book of Jones, I downed a Coke on the T ride to my parents’ hotel in Coolidge Corner. Anne and Abbey met us there. The afternoon consisted of a little lounging about, cheering on some more runners, and a nice soak in the hotel hot tub. Unsurprisingly, the night found us at Border Café and later at T’s Pub. As much as I’d love to tell some tales of great post-marathon festivities, one beer with dinner was all I could muster, and after spending all day in the sun it was about the same for everyone else.
An amazing experience and an immensely satisfying race despite not hitting my goal-time of sub-3:10. Someday. This was one race that without a doubt I couldn’t have done without the help of a lot of other people: the airport employees on Thursday, Brian, my BU friends, my parents, everyone I train with in Denver, and obviously Jordan for his superb coaching and race-plan and everything else he does to keep me happy and training hard.
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