Boston Marathon 2017
Doing the smart, boring thing.
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Sunday morning, at the club run, 6 days post Boston I was chatting with my friends. With all the marathon training focus this spring I hadn’t been able to attend many club events.
He asked me, “How was the marathon?”
I said, “It was a bit too hot so we did the smart thing, backed off and ran easy.”
He looked at me with the smile of one who has run with me for years, humorously, quizzically, and said, “That doesn’t’ sound like you!”
He knows me. He’s right. I’m not that smart. I tend to let my emotions mange my racing. I’m not that smart, but Frank is.
We called it early. When Frank showed up in Hopkinton he had already made up his mind. In fact, he had registered for his backup race on the bus out from Boston. It was too warm to race. Frank’s reticence combined with my fresh memories of last year’s dreadful 15 minute positive split pushed my small skiff onto the shores of sensibility.
There’s no victory in a pyrrhic victory, but doing the smart thing makes for a boring race report!
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I was tracking the weather from 10 days out. It gave me something to do in my taper. 10 days out the weather looked great. 50 degrees and partly cloudy. But in the intervening week, the warm front got nudged just a smidge into Monday. We ended up missing the racing weather by less than 2 hours as the cold front started rolling through while we were in Newton on the back side of the hills.
I was still ready to race. I trained well. I had good fitness. I was healthy. I was light and lean. The only question in my mind was whether I had the legs to go 26.2. I felt like I could have benefitted from more volume and a longer taper, but I guess you always feel unready, don’t you? All in all I was ready.
Before the weather changed I thought I’d go at a 3:40 pace and see if I had anything after the hills. I knew I had just done that workout with 90 minutes at race pace in the middle. If I went for it I would have at least a ½ marathon worth of 7:40’s but I really didn’t want to death march in the second half of the race like I did last year. Even if I raced I would race smart and do it with a negative split.
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By Friday I started seeing the pictures coming in from the expo. Mike Wardian and Scott Jurek. Hamming for the InstaGram. All the stars and celebrities cycling through my newsfeed. The week leading up to the race is filled with and rotating digest of history and celebrities and preparation. The Boston Marathon is a big deal in Boston.
I tapered well and deeply. I cut down to less than 20 miles a week. I held the line on my nutrition and went into the race in the low 170’s – the same as Portland in the fall.
Still the last two weeks were rough for me mentally. I had a lot of work stress. I sprouted a beautiful cold sore that was a physical totem to my stress and sported it for the full two weeks. As healthy as I was my body was trying to tell me that I was not harmonious.
Easter fell on the Sunday before the race this year, which was odd. This meant many local runners had to go easy on the traditional Easter dinners and traveling runners had to miss the holiday, if they observed I, or work their travel plans around it.
Teresa and I went in for the expo early on Saturday. I was on line to pick up my packet by 9:30 AM. Good thing too because the line was wrapped around the building by the time we were leaving. Something to do with the timing of the Easter holiday pushed all the runners into the Saturday pick up window.
I wore my 2013 shirt. I figured that would be a fitting tribute of some sort. With the Mark Walberg movie just out, 2013 was top of mind again. I got around to watching Patriot’s Day during my taper. It was ok. They seemed to be trying really hard not to go too deep, not to offend anyone. Moe like an episode of a cop show. I would have written a movie from the stories of people on the course that day. Maybe I will.
We were able to watch the BAA 5K finishers outside the window of the Hynes Convention Center as we waited in the packet pickup line. Ben True from Lebanon NH won his fourth in a row and broke his own American 5K record by 2 seconds with a 13:20 finish. That’s pretty speedy!.
Molly Huddle from Providence RI missed four-peating herself when she got edged out by a Kenyan who chose a better line in the last 200M. They got a bit scattered by the tail of the men’s race still finishing. She came in 2nd by 2 seconds with a 14:56. Not too shabby. Looks like New England is getting its racing depth back.
When we got up to the packet pickup I saw Brian who volunteers there every year. I gave him a big hug. He was skipping this year due to some injuries and life challenges. He’ll be back. He just has to learn how to live with being slow like me!
The expo was not much different than previous years. Some of the organizations, like Runner’s World, opted to have pop-up booths outside on Boylston Street instead of the bowels of the Hynes. Which probably worked out well for them because it was a beautiful sunny warm day. Both Saturday and Sunday were sunny and in the 80’s. Great weather for exploring Boston.
Teresa went in with me. She has fond memories of when my girls were little. I used to drag Katie and Teresa in with me and they would have a blast eating all the samples and seeing all the stuff. She still had fun eating free samples as we walked up and down the aisles.
I usually come in the afternoon. This early on Saturday all the vendors were still full of energy and quite aggressive in trying to get me to try their hand creams and shoe inserts. I just smiled and waved them away. What’s the point? Do I have dry skin? Who cares?
I bought my traditional Race hat, like I do every year. $24.99 for a memory that I can wear.
We were early enough that there was no line at the Sam Adams booth. They were giving away samples of their 26.2 brew, the special beer they brew for the race each year. It was good. Yes, I nursed 4 oz of beer for a late breakfast. Carbo-loading old style.
I stopped by the Hoyt booth and said hi to Kathy – Rick and Dick were out on their whirlwind social schedule and not in the booth yet.
As we were leaving I ran into John Young, the Hammer, who we interviewed last year. He was a bit perturbed and told me the line was now wrapped around the building to get in.
We wandered down Boylston in the warm morning sun, happy and ready, lean and content, to the finish line to take a picture with the tourists. People were walking by with their 5K medals. It’s a cool, smaller version of the unicorn medal.
We walked through the common where they were breaking down the 5K now. They were having a ceremony to open the Swan Boats in the public gardens. Lots of people out in the sun. We jumped on the Red line and headed home.
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This was my 19th Boston. In my 19 years at Boston there have been 2 really hot years – 2006 and 2012. Three colder years 1998, when I set my PR, the nor’easter year of 2008 and the hypothermic headwinds of 2015. That leaves 14 average years where it wasn’t miserably hot and wasn’t unseasonably cold.
In 1998 it was 50 degrees, overcast and a slight drizzle. That’s my racing weather, especially coming off the winter training. That’s my sweet spot. Anything over 60 starts to be a problem for racing. Over 65 and I know I’m not built for it.
There is some tribal knowledge rule of thumb that says you deduct a certain number of minutes off your finish time for every degree over 65. I believe it.
I slept great over the weekend. I don’t get that nervous energy, sleepless, worry thing that some people get. I remember it from my first few races. The flip side is I don’t get the big adrenaline rush either. I’m a bit jaded I suppose. Nonplussed is another good word. Which, if you are nonplussed to running the Boston marathon you probably need to assess your life choices!
Race morning, I rolled out of bed early. I was awake anyhow. I got up and made a breakfast of coffee and oatmeal. Same thing I have every day. Katie brought me a vente coffee home from Starbucks on Sunday night so I had that to sip on and get the juices flowing. Love my coffee.
I put my race stuff on trying not to wake the house up. I sat down with my coffee and massaged some heat into my legs. Slowly feeling the muscles and the sinew and the blood. Working out the knots without pushing too hard. This is how I get the blood into the muscles for the day. It’s part of my routine.
I had all my stuff ready on Saturday so there was no rushing around looking for something. They don’t let you bring or check a bag in Hopkinton. They give you a small clear plastic bag for sundries. Anything you bring you have to either carry through the race or throw away in athlete’s village.
I dug through my closet and found an old shirt to wear and an ancient pair of jeans. I looked like I was heading out to paint the house. As I was digging around I found the Ronzoni Pasta hat from the 2000 race. I still didn’t know if I was racing so I decided to wear that old painter’s hat to see if there was any magic in it.
I also brought a throw away towel. Always useful to have a towel. Ask Douglas Adams if you don’t believe me. I had a banana, some sunscreen, a section of the newspaper and a space blanket from a Rock n Roll race. I threw my JG 13.1 finisher’s hoodie on for good measure. All that stuff got left in Hopkinton. The newspaper, the banana and the sunscreen never got opened.
For racing, top to bottom, I had my 2000 Ronzoni painter’s hat, sunglasses, my Team Hoyt singlet, my Brooks baggy shorts with the liner, Asics socks, Hoka Cliftons. I did not wear my chest strap or my Garmin. I only had my old Timex IronMan. Keep it simple. No phone, no tech.
I had mixed a bottle of Ucan that I started sipping with 90 minutes to race time, and another full bike bottle of Ucan that I would carry with me in the race. I didn’t try to stash any supplies on the course this year. Keep it simple. I had a baggie with handful of Endurolytes rolled up in a rubber band and stuck into a side pocket. I had a small tube of lube stuck in my key pocket.
I used all the Endurolytes and probably should have brought more. I used the lube on course as well.
Another day at the office.
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Teresa drove me down to meet my ride. I was riding with a van load of moms from my running club. Strange times. Me and a van full of moms. How about that? I’m super proud of these strong women from our club. Amazing people.
We made it out to Hopkinton without incident and took the shuttle bus to Athlete’s village, which is Hopkinton High School and its captive athletic fields. A bit like those detention centers for immigrants you see on the news except this one is filled with jacked up runners from around the world and hundreds of porta-potties.
There was a fly over from the F15’s out of Cape Cod Naval Base. The announcer was prattling on. The first corrals were already loading. We staked a claim in the grass and spread out our blankets. It was a beautiful, sunny day. We sprayed each other with sunscreen and had some fun getting ready, talking to all the different crews.
I didn’t see Frank. But, it was ok. I had already decide to run a negative split race. To hold back and not push early. Maybe if things were ok on the course I could race it in from Newton. Supposedly there was going to be a tail wind. But it was full sun and close to 70 at the start. Didn’t look good. Rule of thumb is that if you are sweating in the starting corral it’s too hot to race.
Eventually they called my wave and I ambled off with the remaining ladies to the staging corrals. They stage you by wave and corral, then when the wave in front of you goes, they let you walk down to the start to where the real corrals are.
As I was sweating in the staging corral looking around to see if I knew anyone there was Frank! He was wearing a Rolls Royce singlet for some reason. He used to always race in a Soviet CCCP singlet. Not because he’s soviet, just to be ironic I guess. But I was very glad to have found him.
Standing on the warming black top with all these bodies he proceeded to talk me out of racing. We would just go out easy and see what happened. Not worry about pace and just have fun. Frank last ran in 2013. He was coming back from that hip resurfacing procedure and didn’t have enough faith in his fitness to attack it.
It was good to have him back. My life seems to be a blur of rotating training partners over the years. It was nice to have one of the old crew back to keep me company. Training for marathons is a little bit like sharing a foxhole. You build these close relationships that have this hard, worthy, shared experience. And then it’s gone.
I was in good shape. I was healthy. I was light. But, Boston is a hard course in the best of conditions. It’s a widow maker when the conditions get challenging. Just like last year, it wasn’t hot enough to scare people but it was hot enough to snuff out their humanity in the high miles.
We did get a tail wind at times, but it was mostly swirling. And it was quite dry. I wasn’t soaked from sweat because it evaporated off. This meant the runners lost more salt and water than they realized.
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We walked our way down to the corral. I had the great fortune of bumping into Eric Strand who was taking pictures at the side of the road. He was qualified but ended up with an injury and couldn’t run. But he made the trip to Boston to hang out and enjoy the festivities anyhow.
I made a quick run over to the last stop porta-potty farm near the start. Why not? I met up with Frank in the corral and helped him do the Trash-bag-fill-a-Gatorade-bottle-discretely trick. We chatted up some of the charity runners. It was hot. We were making the right decision.
And we were off.
We ran easy through the first miles just chatting up runners. Frank would slow me down when I started to accelerate. I just focused on running with good, light form and not working the quads on the down hills.
It was crowded for the first couple miles but we broke free after that. Frank would run back behind me a few paces as I threaded easily through the charity packs. I’d look over my shoulder every once in a while to see if he was still with me.
It was his first time in the charity corrals. I explained the finer points of avoiding collisions at the water tables. He was surprised when a lady abruptly threw up her hand like a salute and started walking with her watch beeping. I explained she was a Galloway runner and doing the prescribed dance.
I showed him how they hunch over and slow down on the uphills. Any uphill. It’s like a nervous tick. See an uphill, hunch forward and slow down.
We were just motoring through chatting and having fun, trying not to race. I am not making this up when I tell you I did not look at my watch once during the race. I started it on the start mat and stopped it on the end mat. That’s it.
We took drinks at every water table. Frank was drinking Gatorade. I was drinking water and sipping my way through the 24 ounces of Ucan I had with me in my bottle. At 10k I swallowed a couple Endurolytes. That was my strategy. With the preload of Ucan and the one full bottle I thought I had enough fuel, plus my ample supply of body fat, to go the distance. I supplemented the fluids with a few ounces of water every mile. I’d drink one cup, probably 4-6 ounces and toss another down the back of my head to stay cool.
It was a good plan and since we weren’t racing nothing could really go horribly, med-tent wrong. It ended up not being enough water or enough electrolytes. As near as I can figure I was fairly dehydrated at the end. I started showing symptoms coming out of the hills. Not enough to stop me but enough to make me uncomfortable for the last 4-5 miles.
It’s a bit of a double whammy for me on hotter days. The heat makes me a bit nauseous. Then I don’t want to eat or drink. At one point I think it was more electrolytes than water because my stomach felt sloshy, but who knows.
We cranked on through the half marathon chatting to people along the course. I stopped to use a free porta-pottie somewhere in Framingham, I think. Met a podcast listener coming out of a porta-pottie there. We stopped a couple times to talk to people Frank knew along the course.
By the time we got to Natick it was at its hottest. I’d guess it was full sun and around 80 with a dry breeze and no cover. Good spring barbeque weather. Frank was putting ice cubes under his hat. He was starting to complain about not having any energy and we walked a bit at a couple water tables.
We stopped to talk with Frank’s parents. They had some water so I filled up my Ucan bottle which was getting close to empty, diluting the contents. I was taking endurolytes every few miles. I used them all in the race. I probably could have had more. I stayed away from the Gatorade because I didn’t’ want to get sick from the sugar, but in retrospect I should have been taking some sips for the sugar and electrolytes.
I had a blast in Wellesley. I high-fived all the girls with a big smile. I didn’t kiss any of them, because, well in a school zone I think that’s a felony and I did still have an attractive cold sore. My arm was tired from the work of it.
I was playing the license plate game to keep myself occupied. You remember long road trips with the family when you were kids? Your parents would have you hunt for different color cars or different state license plates to keep you occupied? I was calling out and counting the different countries runners were from. I think I got up to 12 or 13.
We’d be cruising along and I’d point and shout out “Ecuador!” or something, like a crazy person.
Frank was failing a bit through the middle miles and when we hit the hills. People were starting to drop and with our steady pace we were passing, more like flowing through the crowd. We’d be running together then separate like a school of fish around a shoal then bend back together. He stuck to my shoulder and I pulled him through.
We got a bit more serious in the hills and passed people walking. Those who had tried to race. Those who didn’t know the course. Boston will have its way with the unsuspecting. The local papers reported that over 2,000 runners were treated for heat.
We churned up Heartbreak like champs and were on the back-side heading down the slope into town before we knew it. The crowds were great. It was excellent spectating weather. The locals love Team Hoyt and my singlet got lots of attention. We didn’t see Bryan and Rick on the course but we did have Katherine Switzer running a few hundred meters behind us.
The next few miles after Heartbreak were great. Frank got his mojo back and we were dropping some good paces. But my head was getting fuzzy and I was a bit nauseous. Nothing awful, just enough to hold me back and wish the race was done.
The clouds rolled in when we got past Newton. It cooled off and we had good cloud cover for the end of the race. A front came through, just a couple hours late. The next day was cool and wet. Perfect racing weather. C’est la vie.
I slowed a bit for the last couple miles but kept grinding. Frank pulled away and I let him go. I wasn’t feeling great and my quads were a bit sore.
Up over the Mass Pike, down that last mile with the screaming, thundering crowd. Under and right onto Hereford, left on Boylston and there was the finish. I stretched out my stride and my legs felt great. No push back at all. I didn’t sprint but I held that respectable pace on through the finish.
Frank was there waiting for me. I stopped my watch at 3:54. We ran smart and finished with a 4 minute negative split without any drama. I’m not sure I would have had a good day if the weather was cooler. You never know. You just have to train honestly and take what the day and the race give you.
We got our medals and our space blankets and some water. I felt really shaky after we stopped running. I had dehydration symptoms. Nauseous, light headed and chills. The couple block walk over to the hotel is the worst part of the race. I knew from experience it was temporary and all I needed was some water and a banana and a sit down and I’d be fine.
We got to the club hotel room and had some food and drink, the best shower in the world and a massage. We celebrated as all our runners finished. Some in better shape than others.
I had a couple beers and got a ride back to the train station where I met my wife for our traditional post-race meal at the Summer Shack.
All-in-all it was a good race. We executed exactly what the day called for. I still can’t help but feel a bit empty, like I wasted all that good training. But sitting in that room with all the happy athletic moms, me with my heart, Frank with his hip, Gary with his foot – all of us old guys still getting up and getting it done – I was grateful and thankful for the gifts we have been given.
Like I always tell people when I’m on Heartbreak and they are failing and suffering all around me. I shout out “You’re on HeartBreak Hill! This is the Boston Marathon! This is a place that people dream about! WE are the lucky ones! Smile!”
I have a lot to be grateful for. 19 Boston marathons in the bank.