It Takes A Village to Raise A Runner

I've been contemplating a blog entry for weeks, but just haven't sat down to type. One common thought continues to flood my mind when I run, that it really does take a village to raise a runner. There are so many components that go into running and so many people that help put it all together along the way, even if you run solo, it still takes a village to put you on the map.  The pieces of my puzzle began with the center piece, the piece with my dad who got me interested in running my first 5K around the age of 7, this planted the seed and my desire to run blossomed from there.  Other pieces are filled with memories of running races with my one and only sister, her always being faster than me, it pushed me to run harder.  Then there was my faithful mother, the driver, the provider of snacks and meals, the supporter and encourager.   Along the way are coaches, trainers (most recently Meredith!!),  and cycling and yoga class instructors.  There are the countless hours of running, sprinting, stair climbing that only other crazy people will do with you, they become your closest go-to people.  You've got the people at the shoe stores helping you figure out why your foot suddenly turns a certain way and now you need a different type of shoe to support it, or the nutrition specialist who fits you with the right supplement and vitamin regimen, and the massage therapist who kneeds out those knots that make you cringe.  The authors of books, magazines, training guides, they all help you formulate the best training log to get you to your goal.  The surrounding pieces are those who believe in you, send you encouraging emails reminding you that you really can succeed, they drop off fruit baskets or bake you a cake to celebrate your successes, they push you to be your best and cry with you when you feel like you've failed.  It does take a village of people to raise a runner.

As I look back at the long journey that lead up to the biggest race of my running "career" (no, not a real paid career, just a lifestyle career), I am reminded of all the little pieces of the puzzle that are required in order to see the whole picture. I have dreamt of running the Boston Marathon for years, dreamt of how it might feel to run the course that so many fabulous runners have made their mark on, fathomed how it might feel to stand at that start line and see thousands of runners besides me who have worked so hard to get to this point. Finally, my dream of running Boston was lived out to it's fullest on April 16th, 2012.

The weekend began with many emails from the B.A.A warning runners of the predicted weather forecast for Monday's race, highs predicted in the 88-90 deg range. Runners were allowed to defer their race until 2013, which many of them did, but there was absolutely no way that I would have considered this. My dream was about to be fulfilled, no crazy weather forecast was going to stop that. The expo was full of hopeful runners, many experiencing Boston for the first time as well. Tim De Boom and Desiree Davila were at a booth to answer questions that runners had about the race and the course, I enjoyed listening to them both. I purchased the t-shirts that said something about the Boston race and stickers to add to my car, my dad and I took plenty of photos to commemorate our trip.

Race day morning my dad and I awoke early to prepare for the long day ahead. I had packed my own gluten free waffles so I wouldn't have to stress about finding some carbs for breakfast. I made sure I drank plenty both on Sunday and Monday morning, especially with the predicted heat for the day. I boarded the shuttle at 8:30 and we headed to Athlete's Village to join the 25,000 other hopeful runners! After standing in the port a potty lines a few times, I met up with a lady from NYC that was also running Boston for the first time. We hung out under the trees to avoid as much sun as possible, stretched, and tried to eat a few snacks that I had brought. Chatting with her gently calmed my nerves that were all frazzled due to the anticipation of the biggest race of my life! The sun was beastly, the heat already a factor, and as we were corralled to the start line I could tell that this race was going to be a very long, hot one. 10:20 the gun went off for wave 2, and with that, I was off and running! My two major goals for the day (due to the weather) was 1) to NOT dehydrate as I have done many times in the past and 2) get that long desired medal at the finish line. Very simple. I was prepared for a hilly course, but I didn't expect it to be as hilly as it was! I was completely surprised by the amount of hills, congestion of runners, difficulty of running by/through water stops and the number of amazingly supportive crowds of spectators. I paced at an 8:30 pace for the first three miles but I could already tell that my legs felt heavy and I couldn't find my groove. My dad was going to be tailgating me throughout the race and we had planned out where his locations would be the night before. First meeting was to be at the 10K mark. When I finally saw him, I told him my pace was all off and I was already slowing down to a 9min/mi pace and my sweating had stopped, not good.

 After some photos and encouragement from him, I continued on the long road to our next meeting place. I was already walking and running, struggling to conquer each hill and suffering through each mile. The sun was beating down on my back, I could feel my skin burning, my legs heavy, and the heat rising from thousands of bodies all around me. It was tough, nearly a replica of Twin Cities marathon in 2007. Back to goal one, do NOT dehydrate. I was drinking 2 cups of water and one cup of gatorade at every water stop along with one pack of GU every 5 miles. Let me just say that warm, yellow gatorade looks and feels like urine and when you're parched, it does not quench the thirst!! The only cold water on the course was the water hundreds of spectators were spraying on runners from their garden hoses, buckets, fire hydrants, and spray bottles. My socks were soaked, something I hadn't planned on, but the water sure felt good (minus the fact that it had washed off all my sunscreen in the first few miles!)

I once again spotted my dad around the halfway mark, he sure was cheering for me with all his heart! Nothing helped push me along, it was just one of those really awful types of run days, but I knew I wasn't going home without that medal, so I plugged along. I walked the hills, jogged the downhills, and tried to run at least 1/2-3/4 of a mile at a time, that was about all I could do. The spectators were fabulous, many of them handing out popsicles, fruit bars, ice cubes, cold rags and paper towels, beer, soda, candy, oranges, bananas and much more. Many, many people were walking, falling over with heat exhaustion, fainting, cramping, puking, and just struggling to survive the run. It no longer felt like a race, the atmosphere was more of survival and camaraderie.

The Newton hills were hilly, but I didn't find them to be any more difficult than the race had already been, I kept asking other runners, "is this the heartbreak hill?" I had no idea where this big hill was, but I surely wanted to be aware of it when I was actually going up it.  Finally, we hit heartbreak hill and I walked the entire thing.  It really wasn't so bad, just gradual and long, on a good day it would have been no problem.

My favorite parts of the course were both the Wellesley and Boston College areas.  The number of college students out cheering, kissing runners, waving signs, handing out beer and candy was crazy!  Sweaty old men running up to the girls and give them slobbery kisses while the girls just kept screaming for more, it was very entertaining.  The Boston men were high fiving and shouting out bib numbers, like the guy who yelled, "hey 16909, I love you!"  Made me smile anyway. :)

The journey continued to be a struggle, mile after mile, hour after hour.  I knew I wasn't going to finish in a decent time, I knew it would be a tough race from the beginning, so I set out to just take in the sights and enjoy the experience.  Finally, after 4 1/2 hrs, I spotted the finish line just around the last corner in downtown Boston.  The could just barely see the clock and with thousands of spectators screaming and clapping, I attempted to jog to the finish.  I made it about a 100 yds and had to walk, my legs were shot, quads screaming, sweat dripping, mind wasted, my body just wouldn't go.  After a little walk, I shuffled my way to the finish line where I crossed in 4:38, my worst marathon finish time since that dreadful run in 2007.

Since I had run Tobacco Road marathon just 4 weeks prior to this race and had a qualifying finish time, I will give Boston one more shot next year. :)