Wrong Side of the Explosion

So I went to Boston for the overall experience. I really wanted to see the city, visit the sites, run the marathon, see the spectators... you know, really soak it in and not miss anything. And the city was great, I enjoyed the many different historical sites we were able to visit, I ran the marathon, was cheered on by many spectators... but perhaps I soaked in too much of the marathon itself. This post is an update on the marathon according to Brett (I'm sure Bryan will post his own update as well). The picture to the right is us trying to make it down the subway stairs after the race.

I've never seen so many people all gathered for the same amazing event before going to Boston. The whole process is really something and the people that put it on do a great job. Carting 25,000 runners from one place to the next and keeping them happy on race day is not the job I want, but they do it as well as probably it can be done. Bryan and I made it through the transportation and waiting fine - it was hard getting up at 5 am and waiting for hours outside before the race, but we made it.

We started near the back of our corral which kind of pissed me off a little bit especially considering that we went over when we were supposed to go - apparently others get there early (there's a sidenote for next time). But no big deal, just meant we had to start off a little easier and work our way through the countless jerks that somehow have managed to get themselves where they do not belong. I mean seriously it was ludicrous the number of people we had to run past at our given race pace that we qualified with until I was near people running the same pace. However we managed this part fine and were running just dandy.

And that's when my race explosion happened (explosion)! Around mile 9 I realized I was not going to make it without a bathroom stop, or as Bryan calls them, a bowel movement. Damn! I told Bryan to go on and I stopped. Talk about trying to keep your mind focused when you feel the clock raging in your mind - tick, tick, tick, tick, tick... DAMN! But I get moving again and with every ounce of my energy I try to stay on the same pace and not move too fast - still a long way to go.

But the explosion had happened and I was on the wrong side of it. From that moment on my stomach played games with me. Cramp after cramp came and went slowly building in my side and then fading away. My right arm pit start chaffing even though I had administered ample supply of body glide to all the right areas. My left pinky toe was obviously unhappy and I wondered if it was bleeding. And my neck of all things grew tight and I felt like it was locking up... and yet I was only to mile 14 or so... what the heck. I had done plenty of runs longer than this with no problem yet here I am and everything is falling apart. I thought to myself, "You've got to be joking." No, the joke had barely begun.

At mile 16 I stopped again - bathroom break number two and equally as necessary as the first one. Now it was hard to keep my mind even believing a good time was possible. I saw my mile splits slowing, my body kept inexplicably breaking down around me, and I couldn't even keep my insides still! I just kept telling myself - enjoy it, take it all in, absorb the fans and their calls, see the sights... but the pain was blinding me.... oh, and the cramp had come back but this time when I got to mile 20 it was unbearable. Now the joke was really starting to piss me off, I mean, come on! I had to stop again to walk the cramp off because I literally could not run through it - not unless I was going to count 8 minute pace as running. I walked, downed a cup of gatorade (oh, by the way I had been taking in fluids regulary), stretched my arms to the sky, and then after a minute or so started running again.

Not perfect but better. Just after this at mile 21 I saw Sarah - what a perfectly terrible moment to see her - did she see me walking? But at the same time her voice came to me, something she said before we left, "You are going to get that finisher's medal. I don't care if you have to crawl across the line pulling yourself with your elbows." It sounds harsh but it's actually what a marathoner needs to hear. I kept going even though it was barely a run. I did not even mind the chilly headwind that came at me the whole race, not compared to the pain.

Mile 23 t0 mile 24 - definitely the worst. Now the pain in my forefoot on both feet was getting so bad I was contemplating walking again. But at some point a fellow Memphis runner Scott Newberry came up from behind me. He was hurting pretty bad too and we tried to encourage one another by momentarily telling the other how bad we hurt. He passed me and I lingered behind him a few moments and then slowly realized something that I would not have if he had not got my mind working again. Two miles to go - I can run two miles. I CAN RUN TWO MILES! I started picking the pace back up, mostly because I knew if I ran faster the pain would end sooner.

Two miles never hurt so bad but never felt so great at the same time. Finally I knew I would finish and when I saw the time on the 24 mile mark I realized I could somehow still salvage a sub 3 hour performance. The math was not working too well but I new if I ran two 7 minute miles I would be just under 3 hours. I pressed on hard - well, as hard as I could. I'm sure it looked funny.

People yelled, "Go mustache," or "Hey, it's Pre" or "That's what I'm talking about - ya Mustache," and it all helped. But never have I done something, that I can remember, that was so much harder than it was supposed to be. The marathon reared it's ugly head at me and decided that on that day I was going to have to give more than usual just to finish. It was agony, it was terrible, it was surreal, it was unfair, it was challenging - I guess it was just a marathon.

But I got my finisher's medal, my wife shared my joy, I stumbled with my brother back to the hotel, and I had run the Boston Marathon. 2:53.33 - Boston took it to me... who knows if I will have enough courage to ever try and take it to Boston, but we will see.