Boston Chowda 2003

They say when life hands you lemons, make lemonade.  In Boston, when life hands you clams, I say make chowda.

While training for this year's Boston Marathon, life dealt me a bucket of injured and slightly anemic clams.  I managed to shuck the clams as best I could.  Following is my experience making Boston chowda this year in Beantown--not to be mistaken for the New England fast food chain of the same name.

Bad Clams

You remember that Beatles song, "The Long and Cambered Road," right?  It's a little known fact, but the Fab Four were actually singing about the Silverado Trail, on which the Napa Valley Marathon is run.

My 2003 Boston Marathon experience started where the Napa Valley Marathon ended.  Recall my previous Napa race report in which I whined about the cambered road of the marathon route.   A day after the Napa Marathon, my left foot and ankle were killing me--the foot got swollen and I could barely put my shoe on.  Aside from the camber of the course, there was absolutely no other cause to which I could attribute the pain, which I never experienced before.  So, after finishing Napa in 2:54, which thankfully qualifies me for Boston 2004, I had 7 more weeks left of training for this year's Boston Marathon.

For the entire 7 weeks before Boston, the pain would come and go and I never ran longer than 14 miles in that period.   In addition, in the past year, conditions of lightheadedness and heavy breathing during my runs continued to progress, only they seemed to be getting worse.   Went to get my blood checked and my hemoglobin level was below average.   It wasnt extremely low, but for an endurance athlete, small changes can have a greater impact on them than on the average person.  For a while, I was debating whether I should run Boston as planned--no sense in travelling 3000 miles just to run 26 miserable miles. 

Im not fond of the idea of running with low oxygen in my blood and essentially strangling myself, so I scaled back my running even further, while upping my intake of iron--teriyaki liver & onion sandwiches, steak burritos, beef chili, spinach, beans, etc.  Now, how all this red-meat eating was going to propel me to a PR at Boston was beyond me, but my blood was loving all the new-found attention I was giving it.  After a couple of weeks on my high-iron and liver regimen, I was beginning to feel better, although not at 100%, and started increasing my mileage again.  However, by this time it was too late to make up for all the conditioning I lost.  In the 7 weeks between Napa and Boston, my longest run ended up being 2:05, which I ran four days before Boston, and my weekly average for those 7 weeks was below 25 miles.  My ankle pain continued to come and go (creating a noticeable limp in my stride--in addition to the already noticeable limp from my bum knee), but it was manageable.

Over the past 3 years, I had run progressively faster times at Boston--2:59, 2:58, and 2:52.  Fat chance I was gonna run faster than 2:52, or even sub 3, this year, so I needed a new goal--a pathetic, uninspired, wimpy goal.  If I was gonna suck at Boston, I had to do it dramatically.   My goal time would have to scream, "LAME! YOU SUCK!"  Of the 20 marathons Ive run, my slowest time was 4:15, which was at my first marathon when I was 15 years old.  A goal of running 4:15 at Boston would not only suck really badly, but it would also be somewhat nostalgic too--4:15 was perfect, and I believed I was in such bad shape that I could easily achieve this goal. 

Hence, my quest for a Personal Worst (PW) began.

RITUAL

This year, Adidas' big Boston ad campaign was dubbed, "Seven Stages of Marathon."  I cant remember what all the stages are, and I really dont think anyone else can...or cares?  They had billboards plastered along the course for each of the stages.  The stages were motivational terms like "hope," "strength," and cheesy stuff like that.  The only one that I can remember, because it has been true for me, is, "Stage One: Ritual."  The Boston Marathon has slowly become a ritual for me--a rite of Spring, along with Easter, daylight savings time, and, well, April itself.  I had to keep my Boston streak alive--#4 this year, and #5 next.    Actually, I'm not sure "ritual" is the correct term--maybe "Obsession" better describes my infatuation with Boston.  But for Adidas' corporate sake, I'll humor them.......

Ritual #1:  Stupid Redeye flight

Seems like I always fly on some redeye, thinking Im gonna sleep through the entire flight.  Well, I flew out to Beantown on a Friday redeye, with an hour delay in Motown.  Unfortunately, I didnt sleep a wink, and when I arrived in Boston at 9AM on Saturday morning, I was going on over 24 hours without sleep. 

Ritual #2:  Check in

This year, I was especially fortunate and Charlie, a compadre from the Runner's World Online Forum (RWOL), see below, offered me his entire Back Bay apartment for the weekend while he stayed with his girlfriend, Michelle.  The Back Bay location was ideal--just a few blocks from the finish line and a short walk to the expo, Hopkinton shuttle pickup, and the posh Newbury Street.  I was very appreciative of Charlie's hospitality, especially when, for all he knew (since he never met me), I could have been a psychotic "right wing war monger" (as Ive been described on the forum) that was going to burn down the apartment.  I didnt, BTW.

Ritual #3:  "It's about the Jacket, Stupid."

After dropping off my stuff at Charlie's, we walked over to get Michelle and headed to the expo.  Got broken up as I went to pick up my bib package, and they went to the main area.  Walking around later, I ran into Rita from PARC and got my mug snapped for the newsletter.  This was her 7th straight year at Boston.  Talk about obsession!  No, Im mean, "ritual."

Im happy to report that I only spent $115 at the expo this year, in comparison to previous years when I spent 2-3 times as much on paraphernalia.  I got the requisitely-boring official marathon jacket and a Nike shirt, which read "eat sleep run boston" on the front, and "it's wicked awesome" on the back.  I think Nike may have to shelve the whole "wicked" thing next year--the originality of the "Boston--it's wicked hahd" tshirt from last year is getting old.  I also got a polo shirt leftover from the 2000 marathon--it was only $15.  But dont worry, I ran Boston in 2000, so I can wear it and still be legit.  I never even bothered to stop at the Adidas booth.   Same ole same ole.  Yaaaaaawn. 

The expo just (didnt) do it for me this year.

Ritual #4:  Alleluia

It was Easter Saturday and I knew there was an Easter Vigil service at Trinity Church at 7PM-- I wasnt sure if I was going to make it to an Easter Sunday service, so I decided to attend the vigil and met Jim and Schantzie (RWOL) for the first time.  For the uninitiated vigil virgins, the first half of the service was dark and consisted of readings from the Old Testament.  As the service progresses toward New Testament readings and welcoming Easter, the church gets brighter.  Then, for the rest of the service, any and everytime that "Alleluia" was spoken or sung, people in the congregation rang bells--unfortunately, I didnt know I was supposed to bring my own bell and missed out on the fun--kinda felt like Christmas.  Not sure what denomination this church was, but it probably wasnt Lutheran--I dont think Lutherans have this kind of fun at church.

Ritual #5:  Freedom Run--NOT. (Prisoner to Sleep)

Saturday evening I just crashed, exhausted and sleep-deprived.  I set my alarm for 7AM, in time for the usual Sunday Freedom Run--a 2.6 mile warmup for the marathon.  When the alarm rang on Sunday morning, I briefly debated with myself, "Free tshirt (provided by Adidas for Freedom Run participants) or more SLEEP?"  Wasnt much of a debate--I quickly hit the alarm and fell back to sleep, then woke up at 11:30AM.

RWOL Clamor (Clam, get it?)

Most of my family and friends can only humor me with novice marathon-chatter for a couple of minutes before their eyes roll, and I start to question how these otherwise-intelligent people can be so non-obsessed with marathons.  A few years ago, I started posting messages at the Runner's World Online Forum (RWOL), under the alias of "Rain Man," to entertain myself at work and during classes at school.  Since then, it's become almost a daily ritual (ahem......."ritual") to check in on the forum to satisfy my marathonal cravings, and discuss running topics from Athens to Zoloft.  There are many frightening personalities in the forum, as well as many Pollyannas.  Psychotic or not, you wonder what these people, who youve "known" for years but have never met, are like in the flesh.  Of the many forumites with whom Ive exchanged downright nasty or patronizingly-pleasant words, Ive only met two--Matt (aka Sparkie), though he wasnt the a$$ that the forum paints him to be--that was kind of disappointing.  And Lesley, who runs with my running group.  She's normal--but has this Louisiana accent going on.  Now Im hungry for some Gumbo with my chowda.

This year at Boston, I met a good handful of other forumites and can say that they are, in fact, real people, and not imaginary personalities that the Runner's World staff comes up with just to increase traffic to it's website.  An "FE", or forum encounter, was planned for those running Boston.  On Sunday at Noon, a group of about 20 forumites converged in front of the naked statue outside The Shops at the Prudential Center.  My memory fails me, and I cant remember all the people that were there, so I wont try to list names at the risk of unintentionally offending anyone I might miss--they know who they are.  Some people were introducing themselves by their real, legal names--as if that's what I "really" wanted to know.  "Please, just tell me what your handle/alias is!!"  It was good to finally put face and height to the names of people that Ive irritated and outraged on the forum..........after the FE, I had lunch with Raymond and was quite impressed, as well as horrified, that someone could eat fried rice and sweet & sour pork the day before a marathon.  Like my people say, "Aiyaaaah!"

Back to the Rituals

Ritual #6:  Quincy Market

Yes, Im a tourist.  With not much to do on Sunday afternoon, I did the Faneuil Hall/Quincy Market thing.  Walked around the shops and discovered they were selling marathon paraphernalia at 40% off!   I gave in and bought a cap for ten bucks.  Went to the Bill Rodgers running shop and looked at his historic running momentos on the walls.  Went outside and was thoroughly entertained for half an hour by the street artist in front of Faneuil Hall.

Ritual #7:  Ronzoni Pasta Dinner

Around 5PM, I walked across the street to the Ronzoni gig at Government Center for some carbed-up grub.   Ran into and ate with Don, KevinR, Brian, and John Doe (?sorry!).  The food at Boston is always better than at other marathons and they threw in a potato & broccoli dish this year, in addition to the standard pasta.  BUT, the most stunning surprise of the evening was the CHEESECAKE that they served.  Yes, cheesecake!  It wasnt exactly your cheesecake from Lindy's or Balducci's in New York, but it was good neverthenonetheless and I put down two big slices, on top of the heaping helpings of pasta and potatoes I had already shoveled down.......keep in mind, I had a big personal worst I was working towards, so with more mass on me, I could let gravity take care of things and roll myself towards that PW.

Ritual #8:  No Sleep

Sunday evening, I went back to the apartment and watched some Bob Hope 100th Birthday special on TV.  Went to bed thinking, "How in the world am I gonna run Boston when Im 100 years old?"   This question was quite the mind-boggler b/c it kept me awake an hour after I turned out the lights around midnight.  I fell asleep for about 2 hours, then woke up again and laid in the dark for a good hour before falling back to sleep again.  Woke up again and checked the clock--5AM.  Laid there awake trying desperately to fall asleep, but to no avail.  Finally got up at 7AM.

Ritual #9:  "It Takes a Village"

No????  Did I just invoke Hillary Clinton here?  Say it aint so!

After getting dressed, I headed out the door to the Boston Common to catch the bus to The Village in Hopkinton.  It was about a 10 minute walk from Charlie's place to the the Boston Common.  My seat mate on the bus this year was a guy from Minnesota, who was running his first Boston.   We exchanged ritualistic pleasantries and he was quite excited to be running--it was infectious, and I felt like a giddy schoolboy on the bright yellow school bus.   Sitting on the bus, I knew it was gonna be a warm day b/c Im usually feeling cold on the way to Hopkinton.  But I was sweating and it was warm even with the windows open.  On a positive note, I had no urge to pee on the bus this year, though one unfortunate guy had to pee in a bottle in the stairwell at the front of the bus.   That's courage.

Coming off the bus at the Village, I was squinting b/c it was so bright.  With few clouds in the sky, you knew it was gonna be an ugly one--it was already in the 60s when we arrived.  I went straight for the tent on the left side of the field, and to the front left corner inside, looking for PARC runners at their ritualistic spot.  I saw Bobbi and settled myself down with her, but we werent able to find the rest of the group.  As I changed outta my sweats and got ready for the race, I put my heart rate monitor on and looked at my watch expecting to see something like 70 BPM.  But HOLY FRIJOLES!  It had my heart going at over 90 BPM, and I was just standing there doing nothing!  I sat myself down and my HR started coming down.  Then I laid myself down and it came back down even more to the low 60s.  "Phew!  Im not having a heart attack!"   Then I started stretching and stood up again--HOLY FRIJOLES!  I was over 100 BPM now!  Started walking around, and it came back down again.  I conceded that I might have a lot of anxiety about the marathon, but I didnt think I was THAT anxious and started worrying that something else was wrong with me.  As I headed towards the start line, my HR continued to fluctuate between 60-100 BPM.

Ritual #10:  Herding Cattle  (Corral #1 -  Warning: Enter at your own risk)

Entering corral #1, I was carrying a cell phone and a ziplock bag with two PowerGels and a big handful of "No Myntz" from Trader Joe's.  Wearing my cotton shorts and USC tshirt, I didnt appear to fit in with everyone else in their fashionable singlets and racing flats.    As part of my PW strategy, I brought my cell phone to distract myself from running and to slow me down--it worked well when I ran with my phone at Boston 2000.  I informed some friends that I would have an open phone policy for the marathon and let them know their distractions would be welcome, especially in the later miles.

Standing alone in the corral, minding my own business, I suddenly felt some light sprinkles down at my right ankle.  This guy taps my leg and I look down and......GROSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!   The guy is squatting down and taking a leak!!!  There were actually more than a few guys doing this, and you could see streams of pee making their way down the asphalt. This was my fourth time at Boston, and I never had this happen to me in the past when I was in corrals #2 and #5.  If this is what corral #1 is all about, then I dont want to have any part in it again.  Send me back to the civilized corrals!   However, with my 2:54 qualifier for next year, I might be dangerously close to being stuck in #1 again.  Next year, I'll bring a bedpan or diapers for these guys that cant hold it in.

Wanting to move to a more sanitary area of the corral, I made my way to the other side, looking for Tom and Dr. Saxena (my podiatrist) from PARC, but didnt see either.  But I did run into Glotz and Stephen K (RWOL) and lined up with them before the start.

Ritual #11:  Game Plan & Tactics

Game plan!  Game plan!  I needed a plan for the marathon.  Targeting a PW of 4:15 or worse, I decided that I should run the entire distance with my heart rate in the mid-140 BPMs--this is the rate that I maintain for my easy training runs, and my max is somewhere between 190-200 BPM.  I hadnt run longer than 2:05 in seven weeks, so I was worried about what would happen after 3 hours, but with my heart rate so low, I should at at least feel relatively comfortable in the 140s.  I had no specific targets for mile splits, except for getting to the halfway point in around 2 hours.  Game plan in place, I was ready to set a new PW.  Excited, my heart rate was still in the 90s standing in the corral.

In addition, to increase the number of distractions that would allow me to reach my PW, I decided to run with my cell phone.   I ran with my cell at Boston 2000, though it turned out to be a mistake when I realized I was running sub-3 hour pace--eventually, I had to shut off the phone to finish in 2:59.  This year, however, I wanted to keep my mind off the run as much as possible, so I let some friends know I would have an open line with me during the marathon.

Ritual #12:  BOOM!   We're off!

Mile 1:  Only took 8 seconds for me to cross the start.  Gee, everyone was going so fast--what was the rush?   Guess they werent planning on their own PWs like I was.  I was pretty surprised, though, that there wasnt a whole lot of pushing or shoving going on in the narrow first mile of the course.  I looked down at my HR monitor and almost as soon as I started running, my HR was already hitting 150 and quickly hit the 160s.  Not good!  Not good!  Slow down!!  I tried to slow down but it just stayed in the 160s.  Then I saw Joe (RWOL) up ahead of me, so I thought I'd go say hi--as if he would want to engage in casual conversation in his pursuit of running a 2:40-something.  Turned out to be a big mistake, b/c it required me to get my heart rate up to 172 before I caught up to him.  As it turned out, 172 was the maximum rate that my heart would reach for the entire marathon.  We exchanged pleasantries and then I quickly  dropped back to collect my heart beats.   Eventually reached mile 1 in 7:02--not exactly the ideal pace to achieve my 4:15 PW.

Mile 2:  Pee, pee, pee.  I had to pee.  Jumped off to the side of the road to take care of business, which took about 30 seconds.  After jumping back into the pack, I began to settle into a heart rate in the low 150s.  It felt comfortable, but I was trying desperately to get down to the 140s, but it just wouldnt happen.  And as soon as we would pass a dense pack of spectators cheering the runners, the adrenaline would rush and my legs would surge--bringing my heart rate up to the low 160s.  Then on the stretches of road where there were no spectators, my HR would come down again back to the low 150s.

Around mile 2, I got a call from someone.  I was forced to play 20 questions with him, b/c I wasnt sure who it was--I was getting a little annoyed b/c I was getting short of breath.   Thought it was my old boss, but  after 5 questions ("Did I used to work with you?"  Yes;  "Do you live in Denver?"  No;   "Did we work at F&S?"  No;   "Did we used to work at Alcatel?"  No;  "Waitaminute, this isnt Burt?"  No.)   Im an idiot--shouldve recognized the voice and the only other place Ive worked is IRI--turned out to be Scott in San Diego.  Hadnt heard from him in a couple of years--good talking with him, but 20 Questions was too much fun for me and my HR was increasing to 160 while I was chatting.  And then Fred called from DC--he got a little lengthy in conversation too, and I began to wonder if bringing the cell was such a great idea.  I chatted with him for over 5 minutes  (apparently Lauren just had a baby boy, and Karen & Mike got married--gee, I was wondering what happened to her b/c I had just seen her on CSPAN giving some testimony before Congress).  This kind of salacious chatter had to end, so I decided to keep the rest of my calls short.

Mile 3-9:  Running by heart rate is a liberating feeling!  I was not constantly consumed by all the clocks at each mile and calculating splits.  I was just trying to maintain an even effort and staying comfortable, though I still wasnt able to bring my HR below 150--frickin' crowds and all that hollering did me in!  Whenever I had the urge to pick up the pace, my HR monitor pleaded, "NO!"  I was feeling pretty good, but all along I was expecting to crash at some point and start walking b/c of my lack of training.

It was somewhere at this point that RWOL forumites started calling to urge me to slow down, lest I wanted to fail to achieve my PW.  It was a hoot chatting with people Ive only known online.   Throughout the run, some of these online compadres who called included soundkeeper, trivianut, lou's clues, randchap, fat pumpkin, and someone whose name escapes me (sorry!)--heard from some of them multiple times and received weather reports for boston in the distance (as if I was really thinking, "Gee, I wonder what the weather's like in Boston now."), and my predicted finishing time.  Apparently, they were stalking me online and tracking my progress throughout the marathon.  Needless to say, Ive placed a virtual restraining order on them.

Mile 10-11:  Nice and easy.   Relax.  Breathe in...........breathe out...........inhale...........exhale...........  Guys, check your hair. Wipe your brows.  Straighten your shorts.  Only 1 more mile til Wellesley!

Mile 12:   "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!!!!"..........No, that's not the sound of the chicks at Wellesley cheering on the runners.  That's the sound of me, screaming right back at the girls.  While high fiving the stretch of frenzied girls to the side of the road, I found myself shrieking like I was a child again, before puberty and before my voice changed.  Lemme tell you, there are not many situations in life when a grown man can scream like a girl and get away with it--the Boston Marathon is one of those situations.  Again this year, some girls had a bedsheet-sign inviting guys (and maybe even girls) to free kisses.  I played that game last year, but wasnt inclined to take sloppy seconds, thirds, fourths, or 222nds this year.  The visuals were just as enticing.  Wellesley was great as usual, and for the third year in a row, I saw the same Asian chick with the same sign that said, "Go California!"   What can I say--she wants me.

Mile 13:  I hit halfway feeling pretty good, in 1:43, and was pretty sure I'd make it to at least mile 20 without having to stop.  Still, I was coming up on uncharted territory--having not run longer than 2:05 in a long time, I was expecting to hit the wall--it was just a matter of time.........very nerve-racking.

It's no secret that Boston offers the world's best spectator support, both psychologically and physiologically.  Again, for the third year in a row, I wore my uninspired "USC" tshirt for cheap thrills & cheers from the crowds.  I had a better tshirt in which I planned to run, but since I knew I would be running so desperately slow, I didnt want to draw the attention this shirt would have attracted--I'll wear it next year at Boston--til then, it's my ancient Chinese secret.  Aside from all the "Go USC!" screaming, and the water, bananas, oranges, candy, sponges, and wetwipes that the kids were all handing out, the absolute BEST running fuel on the course were frozen OTTER POPS!  You know, those long, 10" frozen tube/popsicle thingees we had as kids.  I hadnt had one of those since my college days!  They were excellent and hit the spot nicely--sugar and water, frozen in convenient packaging for runners on the go!  I had three of those things during the race.  I was truly experiencing a second childhood--first running around screaming like an annoying kid you want to whack, then seeing the Easter Bunny running the race, and now gleefully running around eating Otter Pops.  What next?  Was some chick from Wellesley gonna wipe my butt for me with the wetwipes?

Mile 14-15:  Surprisingly, my ankle problem wasnt really acting up--the pain actually wears off when I run, but acts up and is at its worst after my runs.  The knees were giving me no problems, but my freakin' right quad was starting to hurt, and my perpetual hip flexor strain was acting up again--seems to happen at every marathon, so this wasnt totally unexpected, but uncomfortable neverthenonetheless.  Shins were a little tight, but loose enough for my slow purposes. All in all, Ive grown accustomed to these nagging pains and discomforts, so it was a relatively good day for my body!.......Coming off the adrenaline rush from Wellesley, I settled back down, anticipating the Newton hills at mile 16.

Fred checked back in so I could give him a Wellesley report.  Also heard from Dave, Susan, Kristen, and Chris, and the guys at RWOL, but it was getting difficult to run and yak b/c my HR would keep going up to 160.  I didnt bother to call anyone myself because it was just too much trouble thumbing through my cell's phone book--I did make one call, though, to Letty b/c I though she was running with her phone too.  Apparently, not because her boyfriend answered.

Mile 16-21:  Coming from San Francisco, I am unimpressed with the Newton Hills and their positioning in the course.   My HR would start hitting the low 160s going up the hills, but in an effort to maintain a steady effort, I slowed down back to the 150s, so quad/hip aside, I felt fairly comfortable through the series of hills.  The ugly part came after I crested Heartbreak Hill and came down the backside--"Ow, ow, ow, ow!"  Felt like someone was using my quads as punching bags.  All that pounding was irritating my quads.  Still, I was still feeling ten times better than I did at Napa when my quads were screaming and begging for mercy.

Now, somewhere in here, I heard a long beep from my HR monitor.  I looked down and....EEGADZ!!!!!  It read 220 BPM!!!!  "This is it!" I thought.  "Im a gonner......but at least they'll all eulogize that I left doing what I loved."  That freaked me out, especially with my recent hemoglobin/iron condition, and bouts of lightheadedness/heavy breathing during my runs.  I slowed down and felt the pulse in my neck and listened to my breathing--nothing unusual.  Then I noticed the HR monitor had blanked.  I reset it, and my HR was back in the 150s.  "Phew!  Im not gonna be special statistic and make BAA headlines tomorrow!"

I received a text message on my phone from Lindsey.  "Odd," I thought, "Why didnt she just call me?"  Apparently, because, and I quote her: "I was scared that you would hate anyone who called you after 3 hours who was sitting on their ass while you were running a marathon (injured)."  Very thoughtful of her.  She's running her first marathon in July, so I'll have to return the favor while I get to sit on my ass!

Mile 22-23:  Yep, my right quad was tight, I was getting tired, but by the time I reached mile 22 and passed the 3 hour mark, I knew the worst was over.  Having gotten this far in relatively decent condition, I had no doubt I was not gonna crash and have to pull out my Gallowalking shoes.  I suppose the worst part of this marathon was psychological--ie. expecting to hit the wall b/c I was so undertrained, and waiting, waiting, waiting.......and waiting for it to come.  But with my pace/heart rate so low, it's not like I gave my body much reason to bail on me.  So long as I made it to mile 24, I'd be OK and could even maybe throw in a little swagger to my stride for the last two miles.

Mile 24:  I was soooooooooooo looking forward to ending this run, and it seemed like an eternity for the mile 24 sign to appear.  At 24, I began to pick up my pace and my heart rate started hitting the low 160s.   Now, it was at this point that my mind started to think about a massage.   Boston gives free massages to finishers, and in the past, I never had to wait long b/c I finished under 3 hours.  However, I knew the massage lines would be longer this year since I was finishing slower.  I was really concentrating on just hurrying up and making my way across the finish line and straight towards the massage area.

After a call from Karen in Fresno, Stacey in DC, and I think it mightve been soundkeeper in Seattle, I was just getting irked with my phone.  With less than two miles left, I was feeling good enough to pick up my pace and stopped answering calls.  I felt bad b/c I cut Karen short--"I'll call you back in half an hour after Im done!" I screamed excitedly and impatiently!

Mile 25:  R-E-L-I-E-F.   After 7 weeks of stressing out about this day, I had one mile to go!  I kicked it up a notch and had my HR at 166.  Turning onto Hereford from Commonwealth, I felt a big weight lifted off my shoulders, but then...........making that final turn onto Boylston street, it felt like someone threw that weight back on.  I had run this finishing stretch 3 times before, but it seemed like it was a mile long on this day.  SUCK IT UP!!!! 

Ritual #13:  Finish

It finally ended, as I crossed the finish line in 3:31:37 (3:31:25 chip), which was well below my targeted time of 4:15. However, there was no time to sulk about my big failure to set a new PW.   I had other business to take care of (see ritual #14).

Ritual #14: Massage

I was seriously in a hurry to get over to the massage area and was walking quickly through the finish area--I even caught myself swinging my arms a little like the waddling race-walkers as I rushed like a madman.   Felt a good deal of tightness in the quads, but there was really no significant pain.  There is ALOT to be said for running slow.  Sure no pain, no gain, but even better..........no pain, no pain. 

I frantically downed a couple cups of Gatorade and a bottle of water.  I got antsy when the volunteer was taking too long to take the chip off my shoe.  "TAKE IT OFF!!!!!!"  my mind screamed.   I didnt even plan to pick up my sweats b/c it would take too long--massage lines would only be getting longer!  Fortunately, I saw my sweat bus on the way and picked up my bag.  I was quietly and impatiently mumbling at all the people in front of me, "Hurry up, walk faster! Go! Go ! Go!".........En route to the massage, I saw Average_Joe again.  Stopped to see how he did--unfortunate day for him, though, and the sun and heat seemed to have taken it's toll on him and everyone else today.   Even Tom, Rita, and Kirsten from PARC all ended up running well below their normal times, by 10-20 minutes.

Made it to the massage line and only had to wait 10 minutes.  Stood there with some guy who had flown in from New Zealand two days ago and was flying out the next day--but I couldnt understand much of what he was saying underneath that Crocodile Dundee accent.....Finally hopped onto a massage table--this year's massage volunteer came in from Providence.  Funny, I saw my volunteer masseuse from last year there--again she drove down from Connecticut to volunteer all day for this.  I got a good 20 minute massage, which made up for the massage experience I had after Napa, where the woman's first instinct was to massage my shoulders after my legs had just run 26 miles. Kudos, kudos, kudos to these blessed volunteers!!

Ritual #15:  Getting Lost

After my massage, I felt pretty good.   I walked around and got lost in all directions trying to get back to Charlie's apartment.  But they block off the streets so confusingly that out of towners, like myself, end up covering an additional 4 miles before we make it back to our destinations.  Every year I get lost!

Ritual #16:  Getting Phat

Later that night, I met up with Raymond, Charlie, and Michelle at Vinny Testa's for dinner.  I had the Chicken Parmagiano w/Spaghetti.  Actually, that order was quite tame and relatively healthy of me, but I had no doubt that it was just the beginning of a month-long period of culinary gorging to come......Apparently these other guys are all training for Rock N Roll, Pike's Peak, and I think Chicago.  The insanity of it all! 

Ritual #17:  Next Year!

As for me--Im done for the rest of the year!  With my qualifier for Boston 2004 outta the way, no more marathons until next year!  I am returning to the sedentary world of backseat runners.

Boston Chowda:  "Mm-mmm Good"