Our hotel was in Cambridge, just across the river from downtown Boston. We we're only about a mile and a half from things, which was nice. By the time I woke up on Saturday, my mom and brother had already each text me letting me know they were on their way into town. Maura and I took the bus into town and walked our way down to Boylston Street towards the expo. There was a buzz about the city, you could really feel that this weekend was one that ppl had been waiting for. It was a chance to show the world (who would be watching) that Boston isn't going to let last year take anything away from this event. They had something to prove.
Maura and I made our way into the expo and I picked up my bib number and race packet. That's always a great feeling......getting your bib. It's YOUR number....your badge of honor....your golden ticket. 36,000 handed out that day, but none like mine. We met up with my mom and Roxanne (my old HS english teacher and my moms BFF) and we walked through the expo. I don't typically care for the crowds these things bring, but I knew my mom wanted to share this with me, so I did my best to hide my growing anxiety. As we walked in, I saw a guy with a picture of Deena Kastor that was signed. I had to ask where he got it...."oh, she's right over there signing autographs" WHAAAAAA??? That changed everything.....Deena Kastor was a name I had never known, except that she was profiled in the documentary "Spirit of the Marathon" that I had watched several times on my iPad while grinding out treadmill miles while traveling. Maura and I b-lined it over and waited in line patiently, giddy with excitement that we were meeting a legit running celeb. While talking with a couple behind us, they told us "yeah, and Dean something is over at the Runner's World area too". "Dean Karnazes?" I asked. "yeah, that's him". I nearly fainted. Dean has been a favorite of mine ever since I have read a few of his books. I made my mom and Rox get in line for him while we waited for Deena. When we walked up, I immediately told her how much I loved the movie, and how I watched it while I ran. She shared a few moments from the second one she did, and was a real chatty Cathy. I couldn't believe I was standing with an Olympian and she wanted to talk to me!! From there we quickly sprinted through the crowd and my mom was next in line to meet Dean. I was in heaven. I shared with him my love of his books and how much he inspired me, and he was very pleasent to talk to. I later heard he ran the marathon.......after running from Boston to Hopkinton first....FREAK!!
We met up with my brother and Anna, had a bite and some beers, ran back to the hotel to drop stuff off, and then back downtown for more beers with Kim, Karen and a couple other Ashevillians before dinner with the the fam plus my aunt and uncle who were in town. A great start to the weekend.
Sunday = uneventful, lame aquarium, crowds, a nap and more carbs. Fast forward.
RACE DAY!!
For a 10am start time, 4:45am seemed a bit ridiculous to me, but the logistics for today required it. I quickly got up, got dressed, spiked my hair and gathered the rest of the mornings belongings. Maura came with me downstairs to see me off. She told me how proud she was of me and to remember to have fun today. It kind of sucked that I wouldn't see her again until maybe the end of the race.
The cab ride was quiet, the city still sleeping, but my brain was wide awake. I sipped my cup of coffee and looked out over the water as the sun came up over the city sky-line. At first I wished that I had my camera to take a picture, but then realized that moments like this were best suited to exist most clearly in my memory, a picture really couldn't do this justice. As we got closer to Boston Common the city streets became more lively; runners in their neon apparel slowing coming out of hotels and coffee shops. From the inside of my cab it felt like I was watching something grow before my very eyes. The crowd of runners got bigger and bigger. A herd of animals on the move, it was instict :)
Once dropped off in the park, I started my way to the bus loading area. Everyone I saw was so happy and greeted me with a "good morning" or "have a great race". There was no line to get on the buses so I just jumped right on and grabbed a seat. We sat for a bit and I listened to the various running conversations going on around me and sipped on my OJ; carefully managing my fluid intake......I didn't want a repeat of last years near pants pissing in Jax.
When the buses finally started to move, we all cheered and clapped. We were on our way to the start line. It was incredible the level of engery already brewing on the buses. Some chatting it up with laughter, some, like myself, said almost nothing during the ride, just taking it in and being in the moment. The importance of today was really put into context when I heard, then saw, 20+ police on motorcycles go flying by our bus and up ahead to start closing down the over-passes. The only time I've ever seen anything like that is when a president for vice president is being moved. Because of the hype of this race, unfortunately due to the events of last year, the eyes of the world were on us, and there was no way anything was going to effect today. We were the most protected ppl in the country other than the president today. Nuts.
Pulling into Hopkinton was like being welcomed home, and we hadn't even done anything yet. It is a very small town, with nice little houses and manicured lawns. So many houses had signs in the windows, or yards, or both. In many cases, families were already out on their porches waving to us in their blue and yellow scarves and "boston strong" T-Shirts. These people were genuinely happy to see us. We were the entertainment for the day, the ones who worked tirelessly to get to this day in one piece. A collective symbol of strength and commitment in their eyes, and their appreciation was intoxicating.
Once inside the Athelete's Village, I had my picture taken in front of the "It all starts here" sign, which is so well known. I grabbed a space blanket and went and laid out in the field to relax and enjoy the beautiful morning that was shaping up. As the crowds filled in around me, I made a few new friends and was shared the typical runner introductions. Where ya from? Run this before? Where'd you qualify? Goals for the day? I saw Frankie, Mark, and Scott and they joined me, which was nice. It felt good having a few familiar faces around me to keep things light.
Got settled into my corral and tried to do some last minute stretching and just stay loose. I'd sit until I couldn't sit anymore, then I'd stand, then I'd sit. It was about at that moment my gut did a backflip, I had left my salt tabs in my throw away sweats......which I had tossed about a quarter mile back. I beat myself up pretty bad over that but tried not to let it dwell. There was nothing I could do about it now.....even though I considered trying to see if the diner close by was open and I could locate some table salt. I decided it wasn't worth trying to get out of the crowd at this point, just relax and try taking more gatorade along the way.
The national anthem kicked on and it was "Go Time". I got a little teary, thinking again about how grateful I was to be there in that very moment. The tears led quickly to chills when as soon as the song ended and I lifted my head up, 4 loud military choppers did a fly by over us. Every great sporting event deserves a bad ass fly over.......Iand never thought I'd get to be one being flown over!
"Bang", just like that the gun was going off and corral 1 was taking the course by storm, all of us slowing shuffling our way forward, trying to hold back the adrenaline until we were released onto the roads. A sea of ppl as far as the eye could see. As I crossed the start line we were bunched together like a school of fish. The road was slightly rolling and down hill so you could see quite a ways ahead and I could not come to grips with the numbers. You couldn't see any road at all.....just a wave of bouncing heads going down the road like someone was pouring ppl down the streets. My smile was wrapped around my head as I ran down the roads of Hopkinton. I looked left and right continuously, I didn't want to miss a second of this.
There were only a few spots through town were no ppl were standing on the roads, and when this happened, a shotgun of guys would dart into the woods, high step in about two strides, whip it out, pee, put it back and high step it back into the school of ppl. It was discovery channel worthy. "The male runners will often jump off path early, taking any open opportunity to pee early in the race as they know this is their quickest way to empty their bladders without losing too much time". Again, the police didn't care.
In most races, it's common for a large crowd in the beginning of a race and then it fades in and out until the end when typically you'd find another large group. Boston is not most races, and is definetely not typical. It was essentially running through the worlds largest tailgate. People lined the streets 2-3ppl deep on both sides, if not more. Charcoal wafted through the air, ppl dec'd out in "Boston Stong" and waving American flags. The genuine support from these ppl was something I'd never felt. I think what I'll remember most during the first several mile is the kids. So many little kids along the roads with outstretched hands. All they wanted was a high five. It really humbled me. I'm just me.....I'm no superstar.....I can't hit a homerun, or throw a touchdown.....there's surely no posters of me out there.....at least that I know of. But these kids were so excited when I'd give them a high five, it was like an exchange in energy that made me go faster, despite having to bend down sometimes to get a slap in. I'd hear "I got one! I got one!" which was so amazing to think that such a simple gesture could made a kid happy. Hell, the adults were all about the high five too!
Around the half way point, we passed Wellesley all girls college. You could hear the screams for almost a mile leading up to them it seemed. For a half mile, the piercing screams of thousands of college girls rang out. All holding signs that said "Kiss me I'm _____"!! I'd heard that this took place, but it was hilarious to see in person. Guys would stop off, give a smooch, and keep moving. I felt like a Beatle! I stuck to spectating vs. participation, for all I know I could have been carried off into the crowed and never make it to the finish line....good luck explaining that one to the Mrs.
I got to 16, the start of a series of hills I knew would be tough, but I definetely underestimated them. My left hammy started to twinge, causing me to adjust my gate just enough to let a cramp settle in. I yelled out in pain and stopped for a second to stretch it. "NOT NOW, NOT NOW!" I yelled. The thought that this would derail me was devastating. I took off again and surprisingly it seemed to back off enough to get back into a rhythm. I watched my overall pace start to climb, now around 6:52, with my last mile being well over 7min. This wasn't a good sign, but I just kept telling myself that I needed to fight, give myself a chance, and see what happens. I upped my gatorade intake, I high fived spectators, but my check engine light was on, and I was going into limp mode. It started in my right quad, and eventually moved to the left. I was able to run still, but at a much reduced pace, and in a lot of pain. I still thought I had a chance, but I accepted reality once my legs were locking up and I was now over a 7min pace and climbing. At this point, all I wanted was to make it to heartbreak hill, hoping Maura was there so I could kiss her and tell her I was ok and not to worry. I had already crossed the 18.6 mile mark (30K) and she wouldn't get an update until the end of the race I didn't think. I hated the thought of her or anyone being at the finish when I'm suppose to be coming across and then they have to wait and worry. At least if I saw her now, it would be motivating to me, and she'd know I was ok.
Heartbreak Hill was not a hard hill by normal standards for an Asheville runner like myself, but the wear and tear to this point coupled with increasing temps and no shade to hide had me doing more walking than running going up it. I'd stop to walk, to punch my quads to loosen them up, and try to run again. Every time I stopped I'd almost instantly get a pat on the back and a "c'mon man, we got this, don't give up" from a fellow runner. I wasn't alone in my struggles, it was a war zone out there. People cramping left and right. The crowd was great though, they were trying to keep us all upbeat, but it was hard.
I looked for Maura all the way up the Heartbreak, but couldn't find her. I was now the one that needed to see her, I needed a familiar face to ease the pain, even for a second. I got to the top and started down the hill, and still didn't see her. I was starting to prepare myself for the thought that I'd missed her, or she'd missed me. Then I heard "Andy!!!" and there she was. I limped over to her and gave her a big kiss. She yelled at me "Go, go, go!!" She didn't realize I was a shell of a man at this point. I told her I was already cramped up, and I'd see her at the finish and I took off.
The last few miles were tough. The sun was beating down on me, and the cramping was getting worse. I tried pouring cold water on my legs, that didn't work. My only chance was managing whatever I had left. Coming into Cambridge was pretty cool. The crowd had changed from parents and families to rowdy college kids, screaming and chanting at us. A few with megaphones from their rooms yelling at us and trying to be motivating. It was funny more than anything. From here on my sole purpose was to have fun. That's why I was there to begin with and I wasn't going to let the pain take that away. Today had a greater meaning than my race time. I went back to high fiving ppl, and had now introduced my "Hulkamania-hand-to-the-ear" tactic to see if I could raise the energy out there. I threw my hands up, and the crowd erupted! It was awesome. I'd run (which is shuffling by now) for a bit, until the cramps were bad, then walk, then rile up the crowd, then try to run again, which only made the crowd louder, and made me run further. If you can't run, have some fun. I figured there were worse places to be stuck on a course, and I was going to take this slower pace as a chance to really soak this up. The closer we got to Boylston, the bigger the crowd got. My legs were fading, my abs were now cramping; which I didn't even know was possible. I'd slow down and again I'd get a pat on the pack and a "c'mon man" and I'd try to muster up something to keep going.
As I rounded the corner onto Boylston, I could not believe what I was seeing. It was like walking out of the tunnel and into the Super Bowl. The crowds filled both sides of the streets to the point where there was no sidewalk to be seen. People hung out of the windows of the buildings, waving flags and cheering, giving it a stadium-like feel. My calves were turning to stone, it was getting harder and harder to keep moving forward, but I was not going to let anything stop me from crossing that finish line. At one point all I could do was power walk, and boy, looking at the pics, I was POWER WALKING! I was mean-mugging that finish line, pointing down at it, letting it know I was coming for it. I had worked my ass off for this moment, and while I wasn't anywhere near my finish time goal, my goal now had to be simply not crawling across the line. I threw my hands up in the air emphatically, screaming to the crowd, "C'mon, I can't hear you!!" "Let's go Boston". At one point, as I was throwing my arms up, I smacked a runner in the face! He was coming up along side me and I didn't see him. To quote Happy Gilmore, "He shouldn't've been standing there".
I made my way down the sideline, getting some final high fives in, and stopping to punch my legs....again. Everyone was so supportive. They really seemed to care about my ability to finish. Runners, spectators, everyone. The theme of the weekend was "we run as one" and "take back the finish line" and that's exactly what WE did. I crossed the finish line, hands and head held high. I did it. I ran the f-ing Boston Marathon. I stopped just for a second to take things in and made my way to the receive my medal. As I walked up, the lady handing them out said "congratulations" and I started to cry. "Thank you, I worked so hard for this" I said between tears. Another volunteer came up to wrap me in my blanket. I kind of stumbled around the finish area a little, legs still in shock, but I tried to congratulate every runner that I could. "Congratulations" took on a whole new meaning for me during this race. In no race I've ever run have I heard that word so many times, and never did it feel as genuine as it did today.
Life, like my legs, slowly came back to normal. A marathon hangover set in and slight depression. 3 years in the making, a major goal had been accomplished. Now what? Ironman, another shot at a sub 3hr marathon? Who knows......maybe I should just enjoy some golf and boating for now.
