Boston Marathon 2004: Swan Song
Prologue
And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final curtain.
My friend, I'll say it clear,
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain.
Act I. Shake the Disease
I'm not going down on my knees
Begging you to adore me.
Cant you see it's misery
And torture for me?
I have resolved to no longer be a slave to the creepy marathon b!tch.
After running my first marathon in
1986 as a sophomore in high school, Boston 2004 marked what would be my 22nd and last
marathon. Hmm, I think I'm getting a little melo-dramatic writing this, but hey, it's my
race report--go write your own. Anyone who's familiar with my running story and all
my whining knows I've had a perpetual knee problem and three leg surgeries since 1998.
But in the past two years, a successive string of nagging injuries in other body
parts have convinced me to knock it off with this excessive distance
running. Granted, I've been able to run through my injuries, but the pain and long
term risks of training just aren't worth the effort anymore. However, I was still
stuck with a qualifier for Boston 2004 (Napa 2003 - 2:54) which I didn't want to
waste--use it or lose it, so I had to run the race one last time and finish on an even
number--fifth year in Beantown since 2000.
Act II. Bye Bye Bye
I know that I can't take no more
It ain't no lie
I wanna see you out that door
Baby bye bye bye.
This year's marathon training cycle has been one of my most unpleasant, with unbearable anticipation.
Started off in January with a funky pain in my right foot/ankle that made it unbearable to run. For a while, I thought I might get lucky and be forced to sit out Boston and avoid all that training! Oh pleeeeeeeeease, one could only hope! However, I had been running without my orthotics for a few months and then decided to reinsert them--voila, the pain subsided. Shoot. So, unfortunately, with no injury to use as an excuse, I felt compelled to keep training for Boston. Training chugged along as usual--building up to 40-50 MPW, weights, and cross training--until 5 weeks prior to race day, when my left achilles decided to act up on me. It got nicely swollen and made it impossible for me to run, let alone walk, without pain, so I didn't run for almost two weeks. Instead, I was ball-n-chained to the elliptical trainer for hour long sessions, and managed to squeeze in one mind-numbing session that lasted 2:15. One day, after being kicked off the elliptical trainer for going over the 30 minute limit at the gym, I was forced to find an alternative aerobic apparatus: re-enter the nordic trac! I ended up rediscovering the joys of simulated cross country skiing, with a picture postcard view of San Francisco and the Headlands from the machine at the gym. By far, the nordic trac/XC skiing is the BEST alternative to running for the injured and frail-jointed. I ceased doing the elliptical trainer in favor of hour-long sessions on the nordic trac--lemme say that skiing 8 miles on the nordic trac in 60 minutes is much harder than running 8 miles in 60 minutes.
My injury-hampered and less than ideal training was also compounded by my poor eating habits. Dunno where it all came from, but during this training cycle, uncontrolled gorging became a regular occurrence before bedtime. Massive snacking on 2000 calories worth of food left me bloated before going to bed. Strange that I wasn't gaining weight, though, and it seems that my metabolism has increased in recent years. If there's anything I might point to, it's all my weight training and green tea consumption that have revved up the metabolism.
By the time my achilles healed enough
to allow for some awkward flat-footed running, there were only three weeks left before
race day. While others began their tapers, I was trying to squeeze in the MSDs and
LSDs that I had missed. Two weeks before race day, I ended up running 26 miles in my
private Palm Sunday Marathon, and then ran a hilly 18 miler with one week to go.
Definitely had the endurance to finish Boston comfortably, but I still wanted to run a
decent time for what would be my last marathon. Not one to do speed
training/intervals, or wear a watch in training, I really wasn't sure what kind of time I
should expect to run at Boston. But, for the most part, I felt in good shape overall,
which perhaps indicated I was somewhere around 3 hour shape. So, with a final hilly 9
miler on Wednesday, and a light weight session on the Thursday before the race, I went to
Boston with an undisclosed attempt for a sub 3 finish--assuming, of course, that I
could stay light and keep my eating in check before race day. I took the day
off on Friday--first day I didn't work out in almost two months! The usual
doubts were creeping into my head, and I was beating myself over the head for not
getting in a decent taper. Oh well, what's done was done and I just wanted the whole
thing to be over with.
Act III. Yesterday Once
More
All my best memories
Come back clearly to me
Some can even make me cry
Just like before
It's yesterday once more.
OK, back in Beantown again, one last
time--let the Boston rituals begin.
Flew outta SF Saturday morning, arrived in Boston that evening, headed for my hotel in Cambridge where I was rooming with Randy (socalchap), and managed to sleep a good 9 hours. A bit jetlagged, I woke up Sunday at 9AM EST, but immediately instructed myself, "Go back to sleep stupid, it's only 6AM your time." I failed miserably trying to fall asleep again, so I got up and headed to the expo....Now what was the BAA thinking by moving the expo to the World Trade Center this year? It was extremely inconvenient adding in that shuttle ride between the subway and the expo, not to mention all the retail shops around the Hynes Convention Center lost out on alot of $$$$ this year because of the move--and how much in tax revenues did the state lose from the expo location change?
I was not moved emotionally or financially by this year's expo--usually it's like Disneyland for me. I was especially PO-ed after I stood in line for 45 (FORTY FIVE!) minutes at the official merchandise booth to buy a sweatshirt for myself and a t-shirt for my 2 year old nephew. I don't get it--there were women in my line who were buying TONS of merchandise that were clearly not for themselves. Why on earth would anyone (my nephew not included) want to wear paraphernalia for a race s/he's never run??? Anyway, when I finally got to the front of the line, they told me they ran out of the sizes I wanted, so I ended up getting a different shirt for my nephew and nothing for myself--boo hoo hoo hoo. But then I noticed there were no lines where they were selling last year's stuff at over half off the price. So I got a coupla 2003 t-shirts and saved a whopping amount of money by not buying the ridiculously priced jackets and other 2004 junk. The commercialism of Boston is ridiculous.
I was done with my business at the expo by Noon, and had 5 hours to spend before going to the Ronzoni pre-race pasta gig. But I didn't want to go all the way back to my hotel in Cambridge, b/c the hotel shuttle service doesn't run on Sundays (yes, as if there are no tourists that stay at the hotel on Sundays), which meant I'd have to walk half a mile from the subway station to the hotel, then back to the subway again to go to the pasta dinner--I was trying to keep off my feet as much as possible. Unfortunately, I ended up standing on my feet for almost a good 5 hours at the expo and walking around Quincy Market later.
Because the expo was at such a remote location this year with no convenient places to eat lunch, I ended up stuffing myself with an entire bag of Pasta Chip snacks, 3 Clif Bars, 3 Snickers Marathon Bars, 2 bags of PowerBites, and about a quart of Gatorade. I finally called a moratorium on eating at about 3PM, b/c I was gonna head to the pasta dinner at 4:30PM. Had to give my stomach a little time to settle down before dinner.
So, I ended up meeting up with Mike (milehighrunner) at the Ronzoni gig, and we sat at the same table with Maria Steffanos (the anchor woman for Boston's local Fox News) and her husband and kids. She looked screamingly familiar to me, but I couldn't figure why until she told us who she was. She didn't believe I knew who she was, being from SF and all--sure, sure, I don't live in Boston, but after running the marathon for five years, I've seen my share of the local news programs each time. Turns out they give out media passes for the marathon, and she and her husband were running their first marathons at Boston......And yeah, it's true--those news people are as perky in person as they appear on TV.
I've gotta say, it's always great to meet other athletes who share your neurotic passion for running & fitness--Mike's one of those guys. It was great to meet him and hear his stories on Ironman, training, Dick Hoyt, and Frank Shorter. I've been a little disturbed, though, by something he asked me--"What have you learned from running?" "Huh?" I was stumped. Sure, I know "WHY" I've been running all these years, but exactly "what have I learned?" Not even Aristotle ever came up with a good work philosophizing about running, though it is widely rumored that “The Running” was supposed to be a follow up to his ancient best-selling “The Rhetoric.” Shoot, I'm still thinking of a good answer for this one.............still thinking..........with 20 years of running, I'm sure I'll come up with something, eventually…..
The all you can eat pasta was great for the price, and even better were the desserts. Yet again, they had excellent New York style cheesecake (chocolate marble flavored) and 3-layered chocolate cream cake. On top of my 4 servings of pasta, I had 2 pieces of cheesecake and one generous slab of the chocolate cake--indeed, while I was picking out my slices on the tables, I was searching for the biggest ones. Aaaaand, for all those marathoners on the Atkins diet, they even had low-carb ice cream with only 3 grams of carbs per serving. Low carb at the carbo-load dinner--go figure!
After the Ronzoni gig, Mike and I crashed the RW forum rendezvous dinner at Maggiano's, where I was promised a free piece of cheesecake from Krista (soundkeeper) for always being a gentleman on the forum. Finally got a chance to put faces with many forum names, as well as see several old faces I've seen before. When the desserts, including the cheesecake came out, they were massive blocks that were shared at each table. Of course, not wanting to appear to be gluttonous, I only took a small spoonful of cheesecake for myself......but by the end of the meal, it was clear no one else was gonna finish what was still a whole lotta cheesecake left on the plate--it was certainly larger than the servings they had at the Ronzoni dinner. As everyone started putting on their jackets and saying their goodbyes, I picked up a large soup spoon and polished off all but a small lump of the cheesecake (again, didn't want to appear gluttonous), demonstrating the extent of my eating disorder. Shoot, so up to that point in the day, I had eaten 3 pieces of cheesecake, 1 slab of chocolate cake, 4 servings of pasta, 1 bread roll, 6 energy bars, 2 PowerBites, and 1 bag of Pasta Chips. Had I carbo-loaded sufficiently for the day?
Back at the hotel that night, while Randy was outside in the hallway talking to his wife on the phone, I engaged in a little more carbo-loading. Devoured another entire bag of Pasta Chips, one more ClifBar for sweet dreams, one more Marathon bar for prosperity, one more bag of PowerBites for good health, and one mini-sized Balance bar for longevity. "Not enough food," a hungry heifer might say. Fine, I opened a bag of trail mix that I munched on, while watching the Weather Channel, hoping that some meteorologist would have the human decency to lie to me and tell me it was gonna be a cool 60 degrees on race day, instead of the cruel 85 degree forecasts that had been churned out for the past week. Tell me lies, tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies!
Sprawling myself on top of the bed, I
thought I should maybe try to limber up and get a few good stretches in before going to
sleep.....Ugh.....ummph, umphhhhhhh.......you can do it, c'mon......uuuummpphhhh.......I
was trying to grab my feet and touch forehead to knees. This is usually no problem
for me, but there seemed to be a small obstacle impeding me. It was my bloated gut.
I couldn't get my forehead down to my knees. Oh man, I was stuffed like a
Thanksgiving turkey and had a very visible protruding gut. The water I had been
forcing down probably didn't help matters either. It was at this point that I was
getting worried about the impact all this eating would have on race day. Hadn't had
a good bowel movement since Saturday morning--this usually happens after air travel, I get
all stuck up and it takes over a day to get things moving again. I was hoping for a
miracle so that my load would be lightened by race day.
Act IV. Manic
Monday
It’s just another manic
Monday
I wish it was Sunday
’Cause that’s my funday
My I don’t have to runday
It’s just another manic Monday
If the
Carpenters only knew how good they had it--rainy days and Mondays certainly wouldn't get
anyone down today.
So, I ended up going to bed at about 11:30PM, planning to wake up at 7:00AM.......Naturally, that plan failed. Ended up waking at 4:30AM and tried to fall back to sleep, but watched the sun rise as I was lying in bed, and then drifted off to sleep, only to be woken again by the alarm. Ah well, at least I had gotten a good night's sleep yesterday. I woke up hoping that maybe the mystical Gut Fairy had passed by in the night and removed mine. Unfortunately, even after peeing, it was still sticking out, and I felt no indication that things would be feeling lighter anytime soon. This was gonna be a heavy marathon.
As I got dressed, I was trying to decide what shirt to wear. I brought along two USC t-shirts that had served me well in two previous marathons--one that I wore at the DC Marathon (2:54) and the other that I wore at Boston 2002 (2:52)-- so how could I go wrong with either shirt? I opted for the latter--simple "USC" in block letters. Sure, I had a bottle of textile paint and paintbrush, with which I was gonna scrawl "Omarosa" on a white t-shirt, or maybe "Wellesley" or my name in Chinese Characters, but I wasn't in a creative mood that early in the morning. "USC" has always made for good spectator-chanting material, so I stuck with that.
Headed out the door before 8AM, stopped off at Starbucks for some coffee, and arrived at the Boston Common around 8:30AM for the shuttle ride to Hopkinton. Strange, the bus lines were really short this year. Seemed like we were the last ones to arrive. Finally boarded a bus at 9AM. I was a little let down. Every year I've run Boston, I've gotten onto one of the yellow school buses, but this year it was a tour bus with cushioned seats. These people were screwing with tradition--without seeing the color of school-bus-yellow, I wasn't able to get in the mood for a rousing round of "the wheels of the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round, the wheels of the bus go round and round, all day long......" And what's worse, they piled more runners onto the bus than there were seats available!!!!! For the last eight of us, it was standing room only in the narrow aisle!! I tried to make my way off the bus so I could take the next one, but I was in the back of the bus and couldn't squeeze my way to the front b/c there were too many people in front of me--it was too late, I WAS TRAPPED!!!! Fortunately, I managed to get down into a relatively comfortable position sitting on the floor (crossing my legs Indian style and getting a good stretch)--others were not so lucky, including Randy, and had to stand for the entire 45 minute ride to Hopkinton because their legs were too long to sit in the aisle. I spent much of the bus ride chatting on my cellie with Kristin and Ralph who were already in Hopkinton, and Adam who was back in Boston spectating.
When we FINALLY arrived in Hopkinton, the driver dumped us off near the starting line, rather than at the Athlete's Village at the high school like he was supposed to. So, again they were screwing with the rituals to which I had grown accustomed over the years. This meant walking almost 3/4 of a mile up the road to the village, and then BACK to the starting line later! I passed on wasting my energy like that, so I didn't go to the Athlete's Village at all this year. Actually, it was BETTER being down at the start line! Lots more breathing room, and I ended up staking out a nice shaded patch of grass in front of a quaint house that served as a law office, across the street from the Korean church at the starting line. Lotsa water was available and I barely had to wait in line the several times I went to the portapotties. I can now say that the Athlete's Village is for suckers.
Had about two hours to pass before gun time, and Ralph, who ran in the heat of the LA Marathon only a month earlier, showed up. Wasn't able to hook up with Kristin or Shannon (their first Bostons) or any RW folks b/c they were all up at the village. Despite all the eating I had done all day on Sunday, I was still trying to put some more food down this morning, trying to get some more carbs in me, but couldn't stomach much. I had a ClifBar, but there was no pleasure in eating it--my taste buds were numb. My pee was clear, fortunately, so I was pretty well hydrated......and then it came.......a gentle ripple across my bladder......ever so slight, then ever so urgent. With the call of nature at hand, I made my way to the portapotty and came out a new man--refreshed and feeling like I could fly. Although I still wasn't hungry, I was able to put down some Gatorade and a chocolate PowerGel.
All was peaceful and I was quite
content until I made my way to the sweat-check buses. In years past, the buses were
lined up about a quarter mile from the starting line. Naturally, they had to make
things stressful and difficult this year by moving things around. I ended up having
to walk almost 2/3 of a mile up and around the road to my baggage bus, and then
back down to the starting line! That was over a mile-long unexpected tour of
Hopkinton before the race! During the long trek to the bus, it became apparent just
how hot it was going to be. Just walking at an intentionally slow pace, I was
feeling the sun beating down on me and was getting worn. The official starting
line temperature at Hopkinton was 83 degrees--not exactly a foggy day in San
Francisco. The last time I had trained regularly in this kind of weather was back in
college, during scorching 100 degree summers in Davis--but that was over ten years
ago......OK, so I resigned myself to the fact that I probably wasn't gonna end up
running a sub-3 today, so what to do, what to do? I rationalized that I should
just go out at 18 minutes for the first 5K, see how I feel, and just take it from
there. Huh?? See, the sun was making me delusional.
Act V. Release Me
Come on Darlin', hear me Darlin'
'Cause you're a waste of time for me
I'm trying to make you see
That baby you've just got to release me
Release me, release me.
In a matter of just a few
hours, I would be free from the albatross around my neck that the marathon has
become.
After dropping off my sweat bag, I lined up in my corral looking for anyone I might know. I was quite surprised that I didn't see anyone peeing in my corral like last year--perhaps the heat had just dehydrated everyone so much that they couldn't pee and get anything out. Ended up lining up with Brian (gearshift) and decided that if I could make it to mile one in at least 7:30 comfortably, then I'd stand a chance at running a decent time for the marathon--if not, well God help us all. The national anthem was sung and the planes flew overhead, then boom, we were off and running--well, not exactly off and running. Strange, I was in corral one and yet it took 46 seconds to actually cross the start line--after crossing, though, there was no real bottlenecking that I could use as an excuse later.
Ran the first mile quite tentatively, high fiving the kids in Hopkinton--didn't want to break a sweat this early in the run and lose it all. I was comfortable, reaching the first mile in about 6:45, chip. But I was definitely not gonna be able to maintain that pace for 26 miles in this heat, so I backed off and eventually hit 5K in 21:00, chip. But shoot!!! This was faster than my first 5K split at Boston 2002 when I ran 2:52, and the weather that year was cool. Fat chance I could finish anywhere near that time today! From there, my pace slipped gradually, but not too dramatically. Heat aside, I was able to maintain a comfortable pace around 7:10 for the the first half of the marathon--no pain, no pain, I like to say.
Almost immediately after that first mile, I began taking in water and orange wedges from the kids lining the course. It was incredible the amount of spectator support there was in between all the official water stations. It seemed you couldn't run more than a quarter mile without someone ready to hand you water. With all the volunteers and spectators out there, water and citrus refreshments were never in short supply.
Heat aside, running up until about mile 10 was pretty much
uneventful. The crowds were great as usual--one little girl in
particular called out, "Go USC! I like your shorts!!" Strange, I
thought. No one's ever complimented me on my shorts before. But I do agree
they're nice--it was the first time I was wearing these new Adidas 'Erickson Baggy'
shorts. Very comfortable, cool, and light, a good purchase at $30......Rolling
along, my knee and achilles were behaving themselves, and my tight right
quad was nothing out of the ordinary. Heatstroke worries aside, I might even venture
to call this a boring 10 miles--it was just filled with antsiness, anticipation, and
wanting to get to the halfway point in one comfortable piece. Somewhere around mile
8 or 9, I came up on a runner that looked familiar. Turned out to be Dr. Saxena, my
podiatrist, who made the custom orthotics I was wearing in my shoes. Normally a 2:40
runner, he was having an unusually slow day--we chatted briefly and he said this was
also his last marathon b/c he's had two knee surgeries recently. This confirmed I
was making the right decision to call it quits with the marathon.
At around mile 11, I started chatting
with some guys about something or other that I cant recall now, but I remember they were
going faster than a comfortable conversational pace for me, and I started breathing
heavier. So, I backed off and then noticed my mile splits had slowed noticeably, by
about 10 seconds. Don't ask me for precise splits, b/c I never wear a watch when I
run. By mile 12, I knew what was up ahead and further slowed down to prepare for
the show at Wellesley.
Intermission: Mona
Lisa's Shriek
Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa, men have
named you
You're so like the lady with the mystic smile
Is it only 'cause you're lonely they have blamed you,
For that Mona Lisa strangeness in your smile?
When I look back at Boston twenty
years from now, it's memories such as these that will make me curl up into a
fetal position and cry.
Running past Wellesley, I was reminded of the past five years that these girls have been
out in full force cheering and high fiving all the runners. In addition to the
increasing intensity of the women’s shrieks and squeals, I knew I was approaching
Wellesley when all the runners were emptying the left side of the course and veering
off to the right side of the road, where the girls were lined up on the course. I
soaked in the experience one final time, grinning and high fiving all the girls, and
was reminded again, "THIS is what makes Boston great." Unfortunately,
this year I didn't see that Asian chick with the "Go California" sign as I have
in all the years past. I imagine she graduated and is now a devoted and dutiful
housewife in a suburban Boston home, learning how to cook for her family by
watching reruns of "From Martha's Kitchen" on the Food Network--unless, of
course, she went and saw 'Mona Lisa's Smile', which was the girl-power flick they
showed on my flight back to SF. BTW, isn't Nicole Kidman starring in a remake
of 'The Stepford Wives'? That should be really really good.
Act VI. These Are Days You'll Remember
These are days you’ll remember
Never before and never since, I promise
Will the whole world be warm as this
And as you feel it, You’ll know it’s true
That you – you are blessed and lucky.
Well, of course how could the world get any warmer than this? I'll certainly
remember this day.
OK, so after the climax at Wellesley, I had to honestly evaluate
my condition and decide how I was gonna run the second half of the marathon.
Overall, I was feeling as good as I could expect in this weather. Not to say that I
was feeling great, but I wasn't too miserable either--this was still Boston after all. I
wasn't getting stronger, that's for sure, and I knew that anything could happen in the
next 13 miles. At the halfway point, my split was 1:32:30. Hmmmm, I
thought that even with a generous positive 6 minute split, I could still run a
3:10:59--good enough to run a BQ. NOT that I would run Boston again, since this was
my last marathon, but it would be nice to finish with a qualifying time. So, I
pretty much planned the rest of the marathon with the goal of 3:10:59 in mind. No
problem, right--it would be a piece of (cheese)cake! So I pretty much just took it
mile by mile, trying to hit anywhere under 7:30 with each split.
But by miles 14 and 15, my right quad started feeling tighter. Again, this was nothing unusual or unexpected, b/c ever since my knee surgery, I've tended to favor and work my right leg more, despite all the weight training I've done on the left. Still, I felt things slipping. The heat was definitely taking it's toll and wearing me down. But I was drinking well throughout the race and grabbing orange wedges often, and those blessed kids on the course were armed with frozen Otter Pops, so with all that sustenance I wasn't totally spent yet. I gauged my condition, relative to everyone else, by the gender and number of runners around me. It was generally all guys and a few women around me, which indicated that I was closer to the front of the middle-of-the-pack than the middle of the middle-of-the-pack, and I was passing an occasional runner here and there. Running Boston, the smaller the number of people around you the better, b/c you get a higher ratio of spectators-to-runner, thus generating more cheering for you and whatever's on your t-shirt. And hey, EVERY little bit of support helps. Running a slower pace last year at Boston, I had a lot more people around me and was lost in the larger crowd.
When the Newton hills came, I cut the
length of my strides a good deal, just to get up the hills without spending all my energy
there. But then I felt the rippling through my calves and the blood curdling through my
veins now. OK, not a big deal, it'll go away, right. Somewhere around mile 17, 18,
or somewhere was the PowerGel Station. I usually only grab one pack, but I took two
and quickly put them down.......then gagged. WATER! I NEED WATER TO WASH THIS
DOWN!!!! C'mon, does it make sense to place a gel station a quarter
mile away from the next water station?
Act VII. Operation Marathon Freedom
And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final curtain.
Approaching Heartbreak Hill, it was just a mere 10K left before my liberation from
this 26 mile long WMD.
By now, all I kept thinking was Heartbreak
Hill, where is it? Mile 19, 20, or 21? It was my fifth time at Boston, and yet
I couldn't remember. Where was that freakin hill????!!!! I just wanted it to
be over with and to get that stress outta the way. In cooler years, the hills really
weren't too hard, but with the heat today, I wasn't in the mood to play with
them. Finally, halfway up what I wasn't sure was Heartbreak, I heard some guy say we
were almost at the top and it was all downhill from there. YES!!!!!!!
Although I was getting quite sore in my right quad, I tried to pick up my pace down the
backside of Heartbreak. But then the spasms started up in my left calf
again.....eegadz, the ripples felt like there was a tsunami rolling through my
veins. OWWWW!!!! I had to stop on the downhill and stretch the calf
out....gently, gently.......ah, yes, good stretch, doesn't that feel goooood.......easy
does it........and then I took off again as if nothing happened....Ah, but with the
yin-yang thing going, within the next mile, my right calf decided to join the game.
Same rippling and curdling in my calf occurred and I was forced to stop to stretch it
out. I ended up losing over 30 seconds each time I stopped. Finally, I got
back into things and the spasms continued to plague me, but I wasn't forced to stop again.
Mile 24. Get to mile 24 and I'm home free. Unfortunately, I had to deal with miles 22 and 23 first. I was beat and grumpy. The crowds at Heartbreak Hill and at Boston College were GREAT, but I was so fatigued by then that even with all the spectators chanting "GO USC!!!!" I couldn't manage much of a grin to acknowledge the support. I was watching the clocks closely at each mile and realized I would have to pick up the pace if I was gonna hit 3:10:59. I was about 1-2 minutes off pace, so I was getting a little frustrated out there.
After passing mile 23, I was looking out for Mike (HockeyMike) because he was gonna be out there with beer and some Krispy Kremes that he said he was gonna supply just in case I had any cravings. Wasn't able to spot him until I heard him call out my name. I was way too exhausted to offer much of a wave or to holler back, but I was there in spirit and laughing to myself, and have to say "THANKS MIKE!!" for the support! Indeed, if I ever get a chance to return the support at one of your marathons, I will make ready a necklace of donut holes for you.
Finally, after reaching mile 24, I
had something like 16 or so minutes left to finish under 3:10:59. Given the way I
was feeling, this was essentially impossible. I was actually hoping that maybe the
clocks on the course were off and I would be pleasantly surprised at the finish
line.....CITGO, CITGO, WHERE IS THAT CITGO SIGN????? At long last, mile 25 came along, and
I knew for certain that I wouldn't make it in on time. So, now it was just a matter
of getting as close to 3:10:59 as possible, so I could write a compelling sob story to the
BAA to convince them to accept my finishing time as a BQ for next year's race.......Again,
I have no intentions to run Boston again, but I just wanted to finish the race in a
qualifying time.
Act VIII. Still Standing
Don't you know I'm still standing
better than I ever did
Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid
I'm still standing yeah yeah yeah
I'm still standing yeah yeah yeah
It's almost over!
All through the next mile, I kept thinking that I should enjoy
it and soak in everything. But I was too obsessed with trying to haul my butt in as
quickly as possible--not an easy task at that point, I barely had anything left in
me. Making that beautiful turn onto Hereford, then onto Boylston, I squeezed out a
little more adrenaline and managed to bring out a little kick for the last 0.2
miles. I was squinting really hard down the road trying to see the clock
ahead. Did it say 
3:10? Huh? Huh? Did it? No, I was seeing
things. Shoot, it read 3:12-something--I knew I had a 46 second cushion from the
chip, so I frantically sprinted making sure that I finished with a net time in the 3:11
range--again, to provide a compelling sob story to the BAA. I was too focused on
finishing that I didn't even have time to pose for the overhead photographers. Alas,
I finished with a net chip time of 3:11:35 (or 3:12:21 official), just 36 seconds off
the 3:10:59 qualifying time!.....So many precious seconds wasted during the race!
Drinking all that water, sucking back all those oranges & otter pops, stretching my
uncooperative calves, chatting with all those people--but the worst obstacle
was perhaps eating that third piece of cheesecake last night (um, thanks alot,
Krista!).
Shaking off the BQ blues for a second, I was just RELIEVED it was all over and ecstatic that I made it through with no major heat-related incidents. Honestly, if the weather was not hyped up as much as it was and if no one told me what the temperature was, it would have saved me alot of stress and I think everyone could've run better. Some things are just left better unsaid. What you don't know wont hurt you. If you cant say anything nice, don't say anything at all. Denial is a river in Egypt.
Massage, I want my free massage. After collecting myself and drinking a bottle of water, my thoughts turned to the excellent post-race massages. Made my way through the refreshments area, where I stopped to say hi to Jim (hilleater) who was volunteering in the grub lines, got the silly space blanket, swapped my chip for my medal, retrieved my sweats bag, then made my way to the massage area. While standing in the massage line, I noticed someone sprawled on the ground who looked familiar. Went over and discovered it was Joe (Average_Joe) kicking back after a less than ideal race for him. We chatted briefly before I had to rush back b/c I was about to lose my place in line. Then back in the massage area, I started talking to a runner from San Francisco--turned out to be the owner of Sports Basement. Naturally, I inquired about getting a discount if I went to the store and presented my Boston bib number--the response was affirmative.
After letting a young woman from Connecticut knead my body for 20 minutes (THANKS MASSAGE VOLUNTEERS!), I made my way out of the finisher's area and headed for the Prudential Shops--destination: Krispy Kreme. Ended up getting the 'New York Cheesecake' donut but was thoroughly unimpressed with that piece of crap they gave me. Next time I shall avoid the fancy donuts and stick to the standards.
Heading back through the finisher's area, en route to the subway station, I ran into Krista and Don and made the subway trek back to Cambridge with them. I was feeling good, and ended up walking the half mile from the subway station back to the hotel--it felt good to work off some of the calories from the donut I had just eaten--and they call me obsessed? First thing I did when I got back to the hotel room was brush my teeth to get rid of that sticky sugary film in my mouth from all the Gatorade, gels, Otter Pops, and orange wedges that I consumed during the race. Now that I think about it, this was the most I've ever ingested in any marathon I've run.
Later that night, Randy and I ended
up meeting Mike (HockeyMike) and his reptile friends for dinner. Great Boston
hospitality, Mike! My appetite was quite healthy after the race--I had already eaten
two energy bars, a crumb cake, a donut, and half a bag of Pasta Chips before I ordered a
big hamburger and fries for dinner. Afterwards, we met up with Brian and his sisters
at Cheers for drinks--nope, no alcohol for me b/c I had to wake up at 5AM for my
flight home, and in my condition I might not make it to the airport on time.
Act IX. It Aint Over Til the Fat Lady Sings
Take a bow, the night is over
This masquerade is getting older
Lights are low, the curtains down
There's no one here.
The Marathon is history.
Later, while chilling
back in the hotel room, I was channel surfing and became fixated on VH1's Divas Live
program, and watching Jessica Simpson pretend she could sing like Patti LaBelle--yeah, and
you can just call me Barry White. Perhaps it was fitting that one particular
musical artist was slightly overweight. Was this a sign of some sort? Was
I really hearing the sounds of the fat lady singing? It's true--it's really true.
The fat lady has sung, and it's over!
FREE AT LAST, FREE AT LAST, THANK GOD ALMIGHTY, I AM FREE AT LAST!
Act X. Why meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee??!!!
OK, so just outta curiosity, I
emailed the BAA two days after the race to find out if they would buy my sob story about
my 3:11:35 finishing time and qualifying for next year's race. I figured the BAA has
got to have a heart and would give a guy a break after going through those brutal
race conditions! Here's an excerpt of the response.
-----Original Message-----
Your net time at Boston of 3:11:35 will be accepted provided you enter
before registration is closed. You will have to apply using a paper
application as the on line procedure will not accept that time. Please
provide a copy of this email with your application.
Oh no. Why meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee???!!!
Epilogue
Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I ate it up and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall
And did it my way.