PEERtrainer Log for katieruns http://peertrainer.com/katieruns.log Mon, 20 May 2013 08:48:58 GMT http://backend.userland.com/rss RSS.NET: http://www.rssdotnet.com/ I'm No Sissy! Slow or fast, painless or challenging, I knew that my first Boston Marathon would be a lasting memory. It turns out that much of the world will remember the 2013 Boston Marathon. Unfortunately this year's prestigious race will not be remembered for athletic feats or exciting competition. Instead it is tragedy that veils this year's event. Over a mere ten seconds, two bombs changed Boston's finish line from an entry to celebration to a devastating area of lost lives and limbs. Thankfully I was done my marathon run and was several blocks away when the bombs detonated. While the tragic events certainly dulled my post-race excitement, I will not let the horrific crimes of that day erase my Boston experience. A tragedy can serve to remind us all of how precious life is. I have been blessed with many amazing experiences in this life. Running the Boston Marathon is one of them. My Boston Marathon experience began early Saturday morning as I left my mom's house to drive to Boston. The theoretical six-hour drive took nearly an hour longer than that due to the four restroom stops needed to support my marathon hydration. Nonetheless we arrived in Boston in the early afternoon, quickly checked into our hotel, and headed straight to the race expo. It was with excitement that I picked up my bib and race t-shirt. Each woman who gave me a race item asked me if it was my first time running Boston. did Tom's photographing of each moment make it that obvious?? In the expo I headed straight to the necessary "Boston jackets" and bought the jacket along with a visor. We walked around and tried a couple of delicious and a few not-so-delicious race "fuels". I skipped on the free massages and magic healing sticks, and we headed out before I flooded my wardrobe with all things Boston. I still almost wish we had a child, just so that I could have bought the "My mom runs faster than your dad" shirt. On Sunday we slept in then headed to Hopkinton, the starting town for Monday's marathon. We went to Mass and I received a special blessing from a priest with a thick Boston accent. How could the marathon not go well after that?! We walked from the church to the start area for a photo with the famous (to runners anyway) "It All Starts Here" sign. Soon after we saw the real starting line and stopped for a photo. A very kind police officer stopped traffic for us. He suggested I might want to lie down on the start line. I was hoping not to be lying down anywhere on the marathon course on race weekend, so I stuck to standing. We drove the race route to help me prepare mentally for the marathon, or maybe to let me see the towns that would be blurring by as I sped past the next day (right!). The course only brought one word to mind: HILLS! I had heard that it was a hilly marathon. I didn't realize that it would be non-stop hills from start to finish. It was too late to turn around. I already bought the jacket; I had to earn the right to wear it. The race route ends in downtown Boston, so we parked and made a stop at Cheers. It made me smile to see the "Cheers to the Boston Marathon" sign up in the popular bar. Tom had the special 26.2 brew made by the local brewery, while I continued to hydrate with water only. We left the bar to head to a restaurant to meet up with a woman we had run with in Egypt and her parents, and we enjoyed a pre-race pasta dinner with old and new friends. Water - check. Carb-load - check. Directions from downtown to our hotel. we couldn't be on top of everything! It took a while, but we made it back to our hotel. One more sleep until marathon morning. Race morning was early with a wake-up call at 4:40am. We got out of the hotel around 5:30am. We got to the buses to the start line around 6:30am. I waited for a bus until about 7:15am, and arrived near the start line around 8:30am. My race started at 10:20am. You're right to notice that there are a lot of hours between bus time and run time. Transporting over 20,000 runners to a start line out in the countryside is no quick task, so it starts early. Once there you get to spend 2-3 hours in "athlete's village" a large area in and around two schools in which you can eat, drink, get a free massage, and meet other runners. I met a few interesting people in my travels and wait time. My bus buddy was a Venezuelan "queen" (it took me a half hour to realize she was saying "twin" not "queen") named Janette, who was running her second Boston. In athlete's village I was chatting Canadian woman named Connie with much Boston experience when I heard one of the better lines of the day. A much (much!) older man stood about a foot from us and said "I hate to do this so close to you ladies, but I'm going to take off my pants." After he took off his pants he sat with us and I learned that Richard is a 75 year-old man who was about to run his 30th Boston marathon. If he could run it, I certainly could. The hours in athlete's village passed surprisingly quickly and I was soon standing at the start line feeling nervously nauseous. I never wear a watch to race. Ever since I ran my fastest half marathon on a day that I forgot my GPS watch I decided that it was better for me to run based on how my body feels, not based on the pace I think I should be running. Boston was no exception. I started at the same pace as the crowd around me. I suppose that makes sense since they place you based on qualifying time. I probably should have thought about that and slowed down knowing that I wasn't well-trained enough to run my qualifying time. My calves were pretty tight from the get-go, but I tried not to worry about that. Surely my calves could handle it if a 75 year old man's calves could handle it. The enthusiastic, loud, and often drunk fans (yes at 10:20am) lined both sides of the street, and cheered like they were our best friends. There were tailgate parties and barbecues in front yards, handmade and printed posters, and musical instruments from professional violins to dollar store kazoos. I laughed out loud at a sign that read: "Those shorts make your butt look fast!" It was nearly as good as the huge sign held up by a crowd of bikers (the leather variety, not cyclists) which comforted me and my marathoner feet by saying that "toenails are for sissies!" In spite of the unending rolling hills, the excitement from the fans and runners kept me going strong to about the half marathon mark: 21.1km. I saw that my time was quite fast, and wondered for a moment if I might qualify for Boston again at Boston. The next few kilometers shattered that hope as my calves went from tight to sore, and I continued to feel thirsty despite grabbing a water or Gatorade each mile. I tried to keep up a good pace but could tell I was slowing down as I stopped passing and started being passed. Oh well, it was more about the experience, and what an experience it was. Near the half marathon mark I ran through the "tunnel of love", about 500 m of screaming college girls holding signs saying "Kiss me I'm (fill in the most ridiculous blank you can think of)". I overheard one man telling his friend that the kiss he got had his heart rate up much more than the running. Tom and I had scoped out his photo spot the previous day on our race route drive. Mile 17 (km 27) would be the spot, left side of the road, at the hydro post at the bottom of the hill. I figured I just had to look strong until I saw Tom, then I could slow it down and drag my not-so-fast butt to the finish line. It sounds like it worked, because Tom seemed to think I looked pretty strong. He took photos and cheered for me screaming "You're having a great time!" He was apparently trying to tell me that I was running fast, not that I was enjoying the race. Seeing him energized me for a couple of kilometers until my calves really started to hate the hills. The infamous Heartbreak Hill comes around 32km, when most of us mere mortals are quite exhausted. The hill is really not that steep, but it is awfully long, and like I said, normal people like me get tired from any running, much less running uphill for over a kilometer. The generous students from Boston College (not British Columbia as I initially thought when seeing all the BC shirts) kindly offer beer and pizza to runners when the hill is over. Why wouldn't they do this at the finish line?! I had slowed considerably due to increased calf discomfort and cramping, but was getting excited to finish the Boston Marathon. In this last section I seemed to be "racing" a woman in a F60 bib. I'm pretty sure that means she was a female over 60. We passed one another a few times before I left her in my dust. Aren't you proud mom?? The last few kilometers were the most painful I've run in a marathon, but well worth it. Despite my usual calm composure, I felt a pretty emotional crossing the finish line. While my finishing time of 3:50:36 is far from my fastest marathon time, I was happy to be under 4 hours given my lazy winter training. The volunteers were super friendly and congratulatory, and were handing out water and food right away. I got wrapped up in a Boston Marathon heat blanket which I considered wearing to school as a cape the following day. I got emotional again as I received my medal. I did it! I ran the Boston Marathon! About 40 minutes after I finished I heard the bombs detonate while I was waiting to meet up with Tom and friends. There were hundreds of people in the family meeting area just a few blocks from the finish line, but nobody realized what it was. Maybe thunder? Or fireworks? The area stayed calm for about ten minutes until people started seeing the news on their cell phones. Seeing the finish line explosions turns my stomach even now. I could have been there. A lot of innocent people were. Getting out of downtown was nearly impossible with the subway shut down and taxis impossible to hail, but the inconvenience seemed insignificant in light of what was happening just blocks away. We made our way out eventually, and went to dinner with our friend from Egypt and her parents. We had a celebratory beer, as much as we could celebrate surrounded by televisions revealing the identity of the young boy killed by a bomb. We were reminded that we had so much to be thankful for. We were safe and healthy. We had received an outpouring of love and support from family, friends, and even my students. There is a lot of sadness in this world, but there is even more good. I experienced more than my fair share of both at the 117th Boston Marathon. (Sorry I couldn't get the pictures in! I like to think they make it more interesting.) http://peertrainer.com/Pages/katieruns.log?date=5/20/2013 PEERtrainer katieruns Mon, 20 May 2013 00:00:00 GMT