What an amazing experience, literally from start to finish. There are others who run better and faster, but no one enjoyed that more than I. I was concerned going in that my legs may not have all 26.2 in them, but most of those concerns evaporated when I arrived at the Park Street station to meet up with my brother- and sister-in-law to get on the bus for Hopkinton. 25,000+ excited runners chattering about the race, piling on the buses - the energy was tremendous. I felt from that moment on that if everyone else here is going to finish, then so am I. My training was a bit lacking, but my will was strong.
The day, of course, was absolutely perfect - cool, light wind, sunny. Hopkinton was bursting at the seams with runners, volunteers, officials, police, buses, spectators, vendors, all packed together on the tiny main drag. I was in the second start wave with the Dana-Farber team (which was in itself an amazing experience), in corral 22. We started on time, and it took us eight minutes to reach the start. I hit the Garmin as I stepped across the line, and we were off. The crowd in Hopkinton was wonderful - thousands of people lining the streets yelling endless encouragement, even to us back-markers. I must have given a thousand high-fives to outstretched hands along the way, a thrill in itself.
As we got underway, runners began stripping off layers of clothing and leaving them by the roadside. Coats, jackets, hats, gloves, shorts, sweatpants, etc. - enough to fill a Goodwill store, discarded by runners who overdressed. (And as I understand, the BAA does in fact collect these clothes and give them to charity). Then everyone who over-hydrated began peeling off into the woods to relieve themselves wherever they could. And all the time, off in the distance, an endless sea of bobbing heads as far as you could see, crowds lining the way. We passed a biker bar in I think Ashland with all the bikers drinking and smoking, cheering us on. Pretty funny hearing Carla the biker chick yelling "You got this!" while drinking a beer. The first ten miles were a lot of fun. I maintained a comfortable pace of about 10:30-10:45 for the first ten and felt great every step of the way. My legs were loose, I ate and drank the right amount, and managed to hold my pace back at that level even though I felt I could go faster. I had a plan and I knew if I broke that plan and went too fast, I would be in real trouble later. I took a bathroom break at about mile 10.5, got back on the road, and then it seemed like the work started. I don't know if it was the stopping or the changing topography or what, but miles 10-15 were noticeably harder than 1-10. But I still felt great and my legs were responding well. I had a few minor twinges in my calves and knees, but I figured that is normal and nothing really hurt yet.
Then I got to Newton.
I had thought, based on the advice from my brother-in-law (who has run Boston 19 times) that the thing to be concerned about in Newton was the uphill part. Little did I know that my training was, in fact, ideal for uphill sections but COMPLETELY USELESS for running downhill. Right after mile 15 there are some downhill sections, followed by a really nasty slope right before Newton-Wellesley Hospital, that just absolutely sucked the life out of my legs. Maybe it was my technique, my gait, or something else, but running down the Newton hills just about wiped me out, especially the huge one at the end of mile 15. I remember thinking at about this time, "Good lord, this is hard."
Lucky planning stationed my extraordinary family at the bottom of that hill, where they greeted me with hugs and kisses and a brief respite from the pounding. The energy infusion from a well-timed hug and kiss from my wife and kids was a life-saver ("We love you honey. Only ten more miles to go!" Gasp.). So I soldiered on, but my legs were starting to hurt a lot. The most relief I got was, oddly, on the uphill sections of the Newton hills. I cruised up all of them with relative ease, passing a lot of people who seemed to do better on the downhills. Had one minor calf cramp on Heartbreak Hill that I ran through, but otherwise was hoping there were more ups than downs the rest of the way. But, of course, there came the downhill portion of Heartbreak at miles 21-22, and by the time I hit 23, my legs were resisting all attempts to make them fire the muscles needed to keep up a running pace. A bit disappointed that I wouldn't hit my goal of running all 26.2 miles, I faced facts and used most of miles 24 and 25 at a walking pace to take on as much fuel and minerals as I could, because there was no way on earth that I was not going to run the last mile-and-a-half of the Boston Marathon. The race was going to end for me one way or another, and I was absolutely determined to make it my way, by running past Fenway, down Comm Ave and down Boylston in front of the screaming crowd.
So I did. Approaching 25, I picked it up and started running again, at a surprisingly decent pace given how my legs felt. Ran across the bridge up that little hill, all the while people lining the route assuring me I could do it. Got the view of downtown, and broke into a big smile. I saw where I was going, and was going to make it at a run. Went down through Kenmore, nodded to Fenway. Turned onto Hereford, the growing crowd propelling me along. Made the left onto Boylston, the finish line in sight. Looked up at the sky, the people, the buildings, everything, smiling and knowing that I am about to run, to finish, my first marathon, the Boston Marathon. Even though I probably couldn't have physically gone much further, I felt like I could have gone forever at that point. I was far enough away from other runners that they were able to single me out and announce my name as I crossed the line in 5:12.08.
Today my legs are sore, but I feel great. All in all this was one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life. From making the decision to do it last fall, to joining the Dana-Farber team, raising the money, going through the training and the injuries, formulating a pre-race plan and a race plan, then having it all come to fruition in running the Boston Marathon and making it more or less within my time goals and not getting injured in the process, is very meaningful to me. 18 months ago I was fat, indolent, out of work and miserable, living in a place I hated and knowing that I needed to do something else with my life. Yesterday I ran the Boston Marathon. It has been a long and worthy journey, and despite finishing in 21,803rd place, I feel like I won something yesterday, something important. This is the first of, I hope, many marathons and other long-course endurance races for me over the coming years, but yesterday will always be something unique to me.
Thanks to all of you for your kind words, support and advice.
And just for the record, I beat Valerie Bertinelli by two minutes.
