April 21st
Boston, MA
Almost by definition, you have to post a personal best (PB) the first time you qualify for Boston. When arriving in Bean-Town, most don't expect to set another PB as the course is considered very challenging because of the hill profile. However I made some tactical errors, mainly hydration, in the Houston marathon that cost me at least five minutes in my 3:18 finish. With some work, I was confident of posting a PB in Boston.
Training for the hills seemed easy. With all the treadmill work I do, I could simply download the course elevation profile and mirror it on the treadmill's incline. From the charts, most of the big hills were in the later part of the course; there seemed to be only two hills in the first 14 miles, with the rest relatively flat or even downhill. I had heard from experienced Boston runners that the downhills are what get you. I even once read an article about a runner who trains by elevating the backend of his treadmill on blocks to simulate the downhill pounding the quads can take. I didn't put much stock in this. To me, the downhills seemed a good opportunity to build a buffer early in the race.
For hydration, the owner of the local running store, also a marathoner, suggested carrying a water bottle. I was resistant to the idea of lugging around three extra pounds while simultaneously trying to relax my arms' swing motion. He told me that if I trained with a bottle long enough, I would get accustomed to it. For my entire three month training cycle I trained with a handheld (by strap) water bottle. I never did get use to it. But I did come to believe it could significantly improve my hydration early in the race.
Come race day the only remaining variable was the weather, as always. Seven days out, the forecast was for the low 50s. Four days out, high 50s. Race morning the forecast was for 60 degrees, but with very low humidity. Though the race doesn't begin until 10:00, runners have to bus to the athletes' village at 6:30 and wait under the open air event tent until called to queue.
For the next two hours, I was freezing. Though covered head to toe in ski hat, sweat top and pants, and mittens, I was shivering. The weather was perfect! The forecast had called for clear skies; but race morning it was so overcast that the Army Exhibition Skydiving team had to cancel their planned jump. I turned to a Houston running mate and said, "This weather is perfect." I was going for a sub 3:15 PB time.
At 9:30 the officials called us to queue up in our corrals seeded by qualifying times. My race bib of 7881 placed me in the top 1/3rd of the entrants. Twenty minutes before the start the sun began to peak through. Off went my sweat pants and ski hat. Five minutes before the gun, the sun was out like a day at the beach. When standing in the shade, the air was cool and refreshing. In the direct sunlight, it was a bit toasty.
At 10:00, we were off. The first half mile is a significant downhill and a great chance to pickup 15 seconds. However, with 8,000 runners seeded before me, I was boxed in so much that by mile one I was 15 seconds behind my 3:10 planned pace. Yes, a 3:10 pace. Though having a 3:15 target, I wanted to take advantage of the relatively flat course in the first half.
At mile two I was exactly back on 3:10, but already sweating more than planned. Having to toss my shirt at mile three was not part of my original strategy. But with the light wind combining with the direct sunlight above, I stripped down. At the five mile mark I was still on a 3:10 pace, but my legs were feeling a little heavy. The downhill stress was not a myth. I pulled back to a 3:15 stride. At mile eight I was right on pace. I tossed my empty water bottle and knew from this point forward I would have to stop at each water station to get a full cup.
After the hill at mile 12 I understood that the first half of the course is only relatively flat, relative to the significant hills to come later. In absolute terms, these first 12 miles made the entire Houston course look like a pancake.
At the half way mark I was on a 3:17 pace, and in trouble. At mile 14 I wiped my hand across my face. It was covered in grainy abrasive dirt. Wiping my torso I could feel that I was completely covered in some kind of sand. I looked down and saw it was bright white; I was sweating salt.
I knew the four large Newton hills began at mile 16. I didn't know that at mile 15 there is a ten story descent. When I reached the bottom I was toast. Dehydrated and burning in my quads, I had to slow to ten minute miles.
It's a bad feeling when you are hurting and still have five or six miles left to run. But with eleven miles remaining, I just accepted that I was in for a world of hurt. At mile 20 I felt a bit more encouraged as I only had six miles remaining. At mile 20 I felt great dread as I had six miles remaining.
By mile 22 I began to have plenty of company. About every 100 yards there would be a runner bent over cramped by the side of the road. That was my fear. Though in a lot of pain, my cramps were more burns than sharp pulls. However, the pain had spread from my quads to my hips. At mile 24 I felt an acute stress behind my left knee. But having made it that far, I was resigned to hop on one leg if need be.
Fortunately, my knee stress didn't worsen and I crossed the finish line in 3:48:04, exactly 30 minutes off my personal best of 3:18.
When I arrived back at the hotel, my two Houston running mates had already seen my posted time and began to offer their consolations, oddly enough in a heighten way. It was as if I was one of the immediate bereaved at grandma's funeral. Whenever I would make a race comment, they would just silently respond by tightly pressing their lips together and slowly nod their heads. I almost felt guilty that I felt so wonderful on many levels.
First, I am now officially a Boston marathoner. Though a mark of distinction among runners, it transcends running to a life experience. It's an experience you can't read about or be told. You have to do it. However, unlike going to the top of the Eiffel tower, you can't buy it. It is understood to be the fruition of extraordinary dedication and perseverance.
Secondly, I have a fullness grown out of my respect for the course. It is like squaring off against a worthy adversary. Regardless of the results, you have a satisfaction from the fight. I have no regrets giving it 100% and falling short, rather than having finished in a faster, but less challenging time. And worthy the Boston course is. Another first time Boston marathoner put it this way,
When he started preparing for Boston, his third marathon, some race veterans told him the hills weren't as difficult as their reputation made them out to be. "They were wrong," said Armstrong, … "They are harder, and they do come at a difficult time in the race."
Armstrong said there's no comparison between running a marathon and cycling, either physically or mentally. "You can't compare the pounding of running with the efficiency of a bicycle," he said. "Nothing even comes close to comparing the pain, especially it seems like this course, with a significant amount of downhills ... that really take their toll on the muscles."
Lastly, I was actually happy with both my absolute and relative time. In absolute terms, though way off my PB, 3:48 is still faster than two of my previous marathon times. Given the high temperature hit 62 (I have a big time sunburn) and the significant hills, I am happy with my time.
In relative terms, I ran with the best marathoners in the world and finished in the top 50%. Also in relative terms, I am very happy with the second half of my race. I was more than tempted to walk most of the remaining 10 miles to just finish in four and half hours. Completely dehydrated and cramped, I was quite happy with my time and effort for the second half.
Boston was a great race, a great experience, and a great motivation to continue to run.
David J.
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