Race report Boston 2015
Marching through the hills powered by smiles
“You’re running the Boston Marathon!” I implored the woman I was passing adding a smile. “You’re on Heartbreak Hill!” I continued. “Come on! Cheer up!”
And that was my race once I got through a rough patch around 20k in. I just set my form and marched in, smiling the whole way, enjoying the crowd support and trying to convince people that they were having a great time.
It doesn’t matter that you’re hurting. It doesn’t matter that it’s cold and rainy. This! This is the Boston Marathon and that is the Citgo sign over there! It doesn’t get any better! Think about where you are and what you’re doing. This is great!
…
But, it doesn’t start at the Citgo sign. It starts in the morning around 6:00 AM for me. It starts with me sitting in my living room massaging FlexAll into my leg muscles to get the blood flowing while I sip my hot coffee. It starts with a bowl of oatmeal with blueberries and raw almonds and honey. It’s start with my wife dropping me at the new StarBucks in town in my outstanding disco-era throw-away clothing.
An Ill-advised Polo sweatshirt that some kind relative found in a discount bin, no doubt. A fuchsia and lime green water-resistant pull-over that Jane Fonda would have been proud to go aerobicizing in, perhaps in 1985 and a pair of red sweat pants that I remember buying at target in Atlanta for $10.
Part of the fun of a cold, wet marathon is the functional disposal of horrid clothing from the back of the closet and the bottom of the drawer. My race clothes were underneath, waiting for the call to the corals. My new Hokas were in a plastic bag with dry socks, gloves and a hat in case things got even more wet on the way to corral 5 in wave 4 and an 11:15 start.
Ryan was running his first Boston and he called in a favor to get us a ride down the highway to Hopkinton. With the driver we had myself, Ryan, Brian, Charlie and Brian’s son Kyle.
As is our routine we got dropped at the South Street exit to catch the bus into the Athlete’s Village. It drizzled on and off through the ride.
On the bus I sat with a first timer from California who seemed like a nice kid and I tried to counsel him the best I could.
From my club, we were all in the late wave. Brian was qualified but was giving up his seeding to run his 16th consecutive Boston with his son.
We made our way through the village. We picked up water and space blankets. Charlie stopped to fill out the personal info on the back of his bib. I didn’t bother. It would be too hard to get under all the layers and, besides, my fingerprints are on file. They’d identify the body eventually.
We made a nest in the grass and passed the time listening to the hilarious announcer calling the waves in a thick Boston accent and cajoling the runners to follow directions and shaming those who didn’t. “I told ya not to try to cut through there. Now you’re stuck. See, ya shoulda listened to me…Nobody listens…”
The final runner from our club, Jen, joined us and we got suited up for the race. Since we didn’t start our day in Boston there was no checked bag option for us. Everything we had would either go with us into the race or get discarded on the field.
It’s tough for the runners who don’t know what to pack or what to bring or what to wear. They have to make a call at 5:00 AM for a race later in the day. At one point, in the field, I had a woman come up to us in distress. She was holding her hands up to me for inspection. They were swaddled in a pair of socks. She implored “Does anyone have an extra pair of gloves?” I said “sure” and gave her the one’s I was wearing. I had packed a spare pair. I planned to toss that pair anyhow.
Another woman was walking ahead of us to the corrals and dropped a glove. I picked it up and hustled up to give it back to her. You’d think I’d saved her baby from wild dogs she was so grateful.
Looking at the weather forecast I decided to run in my typical race clothes choices. I had my new Hoka Cliftons, some Asics tech socks, and my blue Zensa calf sleeves for support and added warmth. On the top I had a long sleeve white ASICS top that would provide a nice contrast for the red Team Hoyt racing singlet. I donned this year’s grey Boston Marathon racing hat.
Sunglasses were not required, but I had the cloth gloves from Strava that they passed out in the previous year in the Athlete’s village. The coup de grace, the sartorial exclamation point and the cherry on the cake was a pair of ASICS short racing shorts with red highlights to match my singlet.
Even with all the throw-away clothing and even with my large trash bag and all the space blankets I never warmed up. My hands were cold and numb until I got in the hot shower at the hotel at the end. But, ya know, one has to expect a little discomfort when one is following one’s passion, don’t you agree?
I foraged a small cliff bar from one of the booths to put something in my stomach while we waited to be called. I had brought a bottle of the new Beet Blast that coach sent me and a bottle of G2 that I mixed up the night before and I nursed those through the morning.
For race nutrition I carried my 24oz bike bottle and 5 hammer gels. I took one of the gels when we left for the corrals and stuffed the other 4 into the back side of my gloves, two in each side, to carry with me. The short shorts had only one key pocket, weirdly located on the back left of my hip. I stuffed a small thing of lube and a snack baggie with 4-5 Endurolytes into that.
I like to put the gels into the back hand side of the gloves. You don’t have to worry about dropping them or holding them. You could put them in the palm side but I find you tend to squeeze them and risk rupture – which creates a big, sticky mess in a race.
It turned out that the key pocket didn’t matter because when I tried to dig the Endurolytes out they were gone and so was the lube. That weird key pocket ended up being tremendously dysfunctional. I don’t know if I could have gotten them out with my hands being so cold and numb anyhow. Cold hands inside wet gloves are fairly useless for any manual dexterity.
I ended up carrying my phone. I had it inside a snack baggie and switched it off early in the race as the rain got harder.
I did a good job of bringing my weight in line for the race. I weighed in at 181.6 in the morning. I weighed myself later in the day when I got back and was up to 183.4.
The start was very well managed this year, they seem to have figured out the flow. Brian and I gave Jen something to talk about as we executed our discrete Gatorade bottle excess fluid disposal trick under our trash bags and space blankets in the corral. She didn’t know what we had done until we told her and she was amazed at our discretion and dexterity. Old pros.
The rain picked up in the corrals and continued through the first half of the race. Back in the charity waves where I was we were packed in moving slowly. My first mile split was only a 10:05. Pace was all over the place with some people walking and some people weaving through.
I talked with a fit looking kid who was trying to run 7:45’s. I told him he’d be better off sticking to the left road shoulder and passing people in the grass. I just stayed in the middle of the road. I passed when there were gaps and had fun yelling out charity names as I passed people with the shirts on.
“Dana Farber”, “MR8”, “Go Liver”.
I caught Charlie and passed him. Then I caught Ryan and had some fun with him. After a couple miles it shook out a bit and I stretched the pace out a little. I wasn’t wearing a Garmin so I had no definitive pace reading but it felt a little fast. I was having fun.
I ran some fast miles between 2 and 10 and was feeling it because the A-fib kicked in and I lost power climbing up a little hill. I reeled it back in. I took a walk break and pulled over to pee. I reset my attitude and my form to focus on pushing my hips forward, running with my core and smiling.
I was a little worried because that was pretty early in the race to be losing power. I saw Jay and Deb Kumar at the 12 mile water station and stopped briefly to chat with them. They asked how I was doing and I said my heart was giving me trouble. But, after a couple miles the pace and form reset started to work and I was back in the zone having fun at a more reasonable pace.
By the time I got to Wellesley I was feeling great and running strong. The girls were great and I high-fived all of them with a big smile.
With my form tight I marched through the half and into the hills. I did some quick math and figured out I was tracking 15 minutes ahead of a 4 hour finish so I just relaxed and had fun.
The crowds were comparatively light until we got into Newton. They grew in size and fervor as we got to Heartbreak. They loved my Team Hoyt singlet and were really cheering for me. The crowds would start yelling for me and I’d turn to the women next to me and say, “I’m very popular.” Then after a pause I would continue “I think it’s the shorts…”
I didn’t have the energy to high-five or greet everyone who called me out. I pointed at them and smiled or winked at them as I worked the hills.
I was slow, but strong. I was in a great position to really appreciate the majesty of it all.
I figured if I had to walk in the high miles I would but it never happened. With that strong form and core my legs just kept moving. It was what I had trained for. My mantra was “hips” every time my form would start to slack I’d just straighten up and visualize my knees being lifted by my abs.
It was cold but nothing compared to what we trained in this winter. The cold weather was great for racing. I didn’t take a single cup of water or Gatorade from any aid station. I refilled my bike bottle half –way twice, but that was it.
I ate my 4 Hammer Gels, one every 5 – 6 miles with no problem. The cool weather had us burning more energy but running less risk of nausea.
I had a couple times when I’d feel a twinge in my hamstring or calf from the cold, but instead of making the rookie mistake of focusing on it I just laughed it off. Nothing ever materialized. I felt great right through the finish.
That being said, the hot shower in the hotel room was amazing. My hands never warmed up until that point. There’s nothing better than a good, hot soak on a cold day.
I hung out and celebrated with the club for a couple hours then met my wife for a seafood dinner at the train station as is our tradition.
I wasn’t too sore on Tuesday, but I was sore enough to be satisfied that I gave it a fair effort. My legs were fine by Thursday. I did a couple bike rides during the week and ran again on Sunday.
Most everyone I knew had a good day. The cold temperatures were good for racing for us. I didn’t see as many people walking in the high miles as I usually do, or maybe I just didn’t notice them because I was having a great time. The head wind was a little annoying when we dropped down into the city but it didn’t stop me.
I had a great day and a really good race. I ran the race I trained for and got the most out of what I brought.