The Safe Side of the Explosion.

As you have already read from Brett's previous post, the marathon is not always your friend. This is probably more true for the Boston Marathon. There are a lot more hoops to jump through at Boston and therefore more variables to try to control. A lot of these were mentioned in Brett's post. Everything from getting in lines to be shuttled to the start, to jockeying for your proper position within your corral. There is a lot going on and everyone there thinks they deserve your spot in line. Not that people weren't nice, they were very supportive, but it is just that everyone at Boston has long since solidified their pre-race routine and tries hard to stick to it.

Under the circumstances I think my brother and got pretty close to doing everything right, especially for our first time at the big dance. Even getting most of it right didn't save Brett from a rough ride. This further proves my theory about the marathon....in the end it comes down to luck. You can do everything right...all the training, nutrition, sleep, etc...and in the end it is still just luck. Your body has to work with you that day. Other factors like weather can also torpedo your whole race.

Lucky for me Monday was a day that my body decided to behave itself, at least for the most part. I never felt as good as what I hoped I would at certain points in the race, but the discomfort was very manageable. My legs just seemed to latch on to 6:05 pace and hold on. In the end my time was not what I know it could be, but it was a very good showing. One advantage to getting stuck in the back of our corral was that I never ran out of people to gobble up. I seriously only recall one or two people that passed me the whole race. That means I gobbled up well over 1,000 people during my 26.2 mile trek.

Of course the fans were great too. They loved my manly mustache. The girls at Wellesley were begging for a kiss from the mustache, but the BaddRunner shot them down. I did them a favor. There is only one girl that can tame the mustache and that is Mrs. BaddRunner. Pretty much the entire race I felt like I was on TV because that kind of race environment you always picture on the big screen.

The last marathon I had done, my quads locked up at mile 20 and I was toast. So with 16 miles to go at Boston, I felt pretty good, but didn't want to get cocky. And of course the infamous heartbreak hill is about mile 20 or so. It wasn't really until mile 23 or so that I knew I was safe and was probably going to finish. It seemed like every time that I thought it was inevitable, something would creep up. I had a brief blurriness in my vision, a slight cramp, something that would remind me that I had to focus all the way through the finish line. Finally I began to recognize buildings in downtown Boston. After that I got a slight boost of adrenaline since I new the pain would soon be over. Plus the crowds grew even thicker and noise of their cheers seemed to propel me. Then suddenly my Boston was over.

I didn't think that I was in that much pain while I was running, even in those last miles, but once I stopped and walked the aches and cramps started coming. The one huge down side to Boston is that after you finish you have to walk a long way through a series of stations. You have to get your chip taken off, get your finishers medal, get your fluids, get your snacks, get your metallic blanky and finally get your bag that you checked at the start line. All of these stations seem like they are a half mile apart (they aren't really but after you complete a marathon everything seems far.) By the time I got to my bag of clothes the 15 mph wind hand blown my metallic blanky away and I was cold and staggering. Even then I still didn't lock up as bad as I had at my last marathon. It was just bearable enough that I was able to walk around until I found my wife, or I guess she found me? Then it wasn't long until Brett came by and we all boarded the train to go back to our hotel (technically a bed and breakfast.)

At first I wasn't overly satisfied with my race but the more I thought about it and the more others congratulated me, I began to be quite content. My goal was to turn in a faster time and higher place, but I guess sometimes you've got to accept the smooth ride and good fortune. So I'll take what Boston gave me this time, but Boston better not be surprised if I take more when, or if, I come calling again.