My Boston Three-Peat: The Race Recap

I was planning to wait a day or two to blog my race recap so I could marinade in the juices of the experience a little longer, but after watching Brian's report and reading The Marathon Mama's recap, I decided I may as well take my own turn on the blogosphere soapbox.

The quick and dirty report is that I broke 4 hours and set a 25 minute PR for myself. All in all, a successful day.

The long winded answer, however, is that I have mixed emotions about the experience, best explained by something The Marathon Mama said about marathons - "You can never count on them to produce the results you work for because it is such a long time for anything to happen and happen badly."

I arrived in Hopkinton full of hope and excitement and vigor and all those other good fuzzy feelings. I trained hard to get there in one piece and after an injury-free training season, I was incredibly excited to see what I was made of. I discovered that teammate Brian had the exact same pacing plan that Vic laid out for me, so we decided to run together and drag each other through Hell if needed. I felt even more confident knowing I had a pal to help pass the miles.

The gun went off and the weather was perfect - cool, a little overcast, breezy, but not a headwind. The first few miles ticked away and we were right on track, holding around 8:19 the whole way. By mile 4, though, I was conscious of my effort level to hold that pace and I just had a gut feeling that it wasn't my day. Still, I hung on, remembering both that Vic said running a marathon is like being slowly dragged over hot coals, and that I'd never raced Boston before - I'd only run it to finish - so I had no idea how "hard" it was supposed to feel.

I think it was somewhere around mile 9 that Brian pulled ahead to run his own race as I started running out of steam. By mile 10 my wheels started to come off. I felt tired, sluggish, and I needed to recycle some of the gatorade I drank in Hopkinton. I knew at that point that my race plan was out the window, so I took 30 seconds to cop a squat behind a traffic light controller box, refocus my brain and pull my race back together.

I felt a world better after relieving myself, and realized I wasn't THAT far off my plan. Maybe a couple minutes, which I theoretically could make up toward the end if I had steam. I trucked on and tried to focus on staying relaxed, while also reminding myself of why I run and who I was running for. In the 12 miles that followed, some were excruciating and I actually feared I wouldn't finish a few times. There was a headwind on Heartbreak Hill, and the sun broke through at some point, too. When it came out it was never hot, but I felt it zapping my energy and I know it played some role in the way I felt. Other portions of the race's midsection were not far off my goal pace and I felt hopeful that I'd come within 5 or 10 minutes of my goal finish time. The Newton Hills really took it out of me, though, and by mile 22 I knew it would be a battle of sheer will to Copley Square. I was right, too, and when I looked at my splits on my Garmin this morning, it really was those last 4 miles or so where I struggled the hardest.

I dug deep and found a burst of energy for the patient partners at Dana-Farber's mile 25 cheering station, then again at mile 26 where my family and one of my best friends was waiting. When I turned onto Boylston, the finish line looked like it was miles away, and I hardly had a sprint left in me, but I pulled out every last ounce of energy I had to pass through that gorgeous blue arch with my head proudly held high and my arms over my head. Jack tells us that if you run a marathon properly, you should be taking your last effective step at the finish line. I can say with absolute confidence, that was the case. And unfortunately, the finish chute goes for about 3 blocks, so after you take that last effective step you have to take MANY more before you can finally stop.

I finished 12 minutes slower than my goal, but was still proud to have even made it that close, given how poorly I felt at time, and how much I struggled in the last 4 miles. After I wobbled my way through the corral, I unexpectedly bumped into Brian at the Dana-Farber baggage bus. He had an equally challenging race, and finished a minute behind me.

So there you have it. I ran my third Boston and finished in under 4 hours, being carried by "thank you Dana-Faaaaahbah" the whole way. And I raised more than $5,500 for a charity I love. Am I disappointed that I didn't qualify? No. That was always a stretch goal and I know I'll do it at some point. This just wasn't my year. Am I disappointed that my race fell apart so early? Yes.

It's hard to explain what it feels like to follow your training to the letter and watch yourself growing faster and stronger each week, only to have your body and mind jam on the brakes not even halfway into the race. What I can say, though, is that it was a learning experience for me and now I know, like The Marathon Mama said, that you can't count on seeing the results you expect, which is not an easy thing for a Type A over-achiever like me to accept and come to grips with. What do you MEAN effort in doesn't equal results out?? Is today opposite day?

But please know this: I'm proud of myself. I'm happy with my time and I'm thrilled with my killer PR. And I'm excited to take what I've learned from this Boston with me into my next marathon and maybe run a little smarter. And I look forward to chasing that unicorn again next year.