Yes, all you smart mathy readers are correct. That's not my BQ time. I had a tough race, I feel kind of robbed by my own body, I won't be running Boston this spring, and this week has kind of felt like the aftermath of a bad breakup.
Sunday after the race I was trying to be positive about it, look on the bright side, and have a lot of beer and burgers. Monday it was all I could do to hold back tears and stay off Facebook so I couldn't see everyone's status updates about registering for Boston. I also decided to take a year off from marathons, and stick to triathlons and half-marathons. Tuesday morning brought with it the news that Boston sold out in 8 hours and the realization that I might need to run faster than a 3:40 to register in 2012. More tears and Facebook avoidance. By the end of the week, though, I was reading every article I could get my hands on about the Boston sell-out, reading everyone's facebook statuses, verbalizing my disappointment, and chomping at the bit to find a marathon to run in Feb or March. The sooner the better. Kind of the running equivalent of trying to find a rebound guy.
But lets take a step back.
A week and a half before the race I got hit with a head cold. I couldn't get off the couch almost the entire long weekend. The week leading up to baystate I felt lightyears better, but still a little run down. Then, the day before the race I woke up with vertigo that lasted a good 4 hours. It was pretty scary and I'm still not sure what caused it, but by race morning I felt fine. I went through my usual race morning routine, nutrition, etc. and when I got to the Tsongas arena, I was feeling pretty confident.
I wandered down to the start, found my spot in the corral, spotted the 3:40 pacers not far ahead of me in said corral, and when the gun went off Michael Jackson was in my ears telling me to Beat It. The first mile felt perfect. I was eyeing the 3:40 sign and thinking "eye on the prize." By the second mile they were just far enough ahead that I lost them, but I wanted to run my own race and not go out too fast. I knew there'd be time to catch them later. Mile three I started to feel tired, though, like my body was having trouble warming up. I had kind of a sleepy groggy feel in my head that didn't get any better by mile 4, and I seriously considered dropping out - that's no way to cover another 22.2 miles. But I plugged on, and tried to tell myself it was mind over matter.
I finished the first loop and wasn't too far off my goal, and got a second wind. I was ready to attack. Then out of nowhere, mile 15 brought with it a DIRE and URGENT need for a bathroom, putting even my Cape Ann experience to shame. The next port-a-john wasn't until mile 16 and I really thought I might not make it. When I finally reached it, I lost a good minute and a half trying to remedy my situation.
Safely out of the bathroom, the journey to miles 17-20 were OK. I still didn't feel fresh, but I was chugging along and trying to dig deep. Noah biked up to me and asked if I wanted my friend Laurie to hop in and join me at 22, as she had so kindly offered to do. I nodded yes. Somewhere around 22 before I caught up with Laurie, the 3:50 pace group caught me and I tried to hang on, but I couldn't. By 23 and 24 it was a battle of sheer will to keep moving forward, and there were a couple of kicker rolling hills and a banked curve to navigate. I told Laurie all I wanted was a beer and a burger.
At Mile 25 you could hear the stadium but my legs didn't have the freshness to pick it up. My body was on auto-pilot, despite Laurie's efforts to motivate me. As I entered the ballpark, Laurie ducked into the crowds and the last .1 or so was along the warning track. I had to run over both the bullpen mounds, the last being about 20 feet from the finish line (that's totally a face-plant waiting to happen about 5 hours in), and I somehow managed to cross the finish line with both arms over my head and a huge grin on my face. Noah was waiting for me in the stands just past the finish, with his camera and a kiss for me. I was hobbly and tired, but proud of myself for my sticktoitiveness and ability to still pull off a 3:51 and change despite how I felt.
I do feel robbed, though. If I was capable of 3:51 under those circumstances, what could I have done if I was healthy? The weather was perfect and everyone I know who ran to qualify that day either reached or exceeded their goal. I'm the only one I know who didn't.
So there you have it. I'm still not sure what my next adventure will be -whether it's a year of halves and tris, or another marathon ASAP- but this one is done and now I'm thoroughly enjoying my off season.
