I flew out to Boston on Saturday, arrived late in the afternoon, rented a car and braved the Boston streets and freeways to find my hotel north of Boston in Burlington. It's a nice hotel, the Hilton Garden Inn. I had a nice dinner of grilled steak tips, broccoli, french fries and a glass of wine...and several glasses of water. Then I polished off a slice of tiramisu torte. It was hard sleeping that night with the 3 hour time change, but I took half an ambien when I went to bed and the other half at 2 am when I couldn't get back to sleep.
Sunday I had to do a short run to loosen up my legs. With it being so cold here, I opted for the treadmill. My hamstring felt tight but I tried to push it out of my mind. I had no idea how I was supposed to make it 26.2 miles without this thing blowing out.
I had breakfast and then headed out to the expo to pick up my race packet and bib. I also wanted to buy some of the way-too-expensive official marathon merchandise. Usually when I go to the expo is when it really dawns on me that I am about to run 26.2 miles...but this time something was really different. I usually have a lot of self talk that continually stresses the question- Why are you doing this? Who does this? And that helps feed my nerves, but this time whenever the question why started to come up, it was silenced quickly. When you are honored enough to be able to run the Boston Marathon, especially after last year's tragedy, and you see those who lost legs and family members, coming back to run this year's race...you don't ask why you're there. I knew that whatever pain I endured from lack of training would not compare to what some people have and are enduring.
The expo was absolutely packed. I picked up my race number and had a little "moment". One of many throughout this entire experience. It's hard not to get choked up with all that's going. I like to think I'm pretty tough, but this whole thing has made me accept that I am an emotional person. And so be it. That's what emotions are for. I have a tendency to look away from whatever is about to make me cry, to try to tuck those tears away before anyone sees. But I told myself, at Boston, you look it straight in the eye. There are not too many opportunities like this where you get to witness the amazing power of the human spirit.
I talked to a woman who was a veteran of Boston, while I tried on the long sleeve running shirt that came in my race packet. That was a common thing, everyone asking "Is this your first Boston?" It's legendary, people. Anyway, she was telling me how even though it's so crowded at the start, you're in corrals so that everyone who is standing next to you qualified with the same time...so they're all running your speed. There really isn't much of a need to run around people, and most likely they will all be running too fast in the beginning. I guess it used to be that they would just throw everyone together and you could be stuck behind people way slower than you. But the staggered start and separated corrals has pretty much eliminated that. She gave me some good advice and I decided to just let people fly by me at the beginning.
Let me interrupt this for a second to explain to you how big of a deal the Boston Marathon is. Maybe I'm a little thrown because before qualifying for Boston, I had never considered running it. It was just another overcrowded, over-hyped race right? Wrong. This thing is crazy. I flew out of San Jose and had a few runners on my flight to Los Angeles. You know them right away. They're either wearing running gear (or official race clothing) or they're looking at Boston tourism pamphlets.
On my flight from L.A. to Boston, more than half the plane was there to either run the marathon or go watch it. The flight attendant made an announcement over the PA and everyone applauded the runners. Cue those tears. I took a deep breath. "Really?" said the woman next to me after I raised my hand with the rest of the runners. We talked for a couple hours.
The airport in Boston had "Boston Strong" banners all over and blue and yellow ribbons. I took another deep breath.
I heard people on the shuttle to the rental cars talking about Shalane Flannigan, the local girl everyone hoped would win Boston this year for the women. I wasn't wearing any running gear and I'm glad I wasn't. I would've been a wreck before I got to my hotel. The whole state gets excited for this thing. I've never seen a running venue as celebrated as football or baseball, but this is a big deal here. A really big deal. Other marathons I've gone too, I hear people say "There's a marathon this weekend?" Not this town. The guy at Trader Joe's made a comment about how the weather was going to be perfect for the "runnahs".
So where were we? Ah yes, the expo. I bought a running short sleeve shirt- blue and yellow, and a sweatshirt-grey and blue. The jackets were a vibrant bright orange this year and I just don't see me wearing a fluorescent orange anything, so I decided not to get it. I walked around the expo for a little while until I got overwhelmed by the massive crowd, then headed out onto the street.
The expo was near the finish line and there were all sorts of things underway to get ready for the run. People were allowed on the course to run or stand on the newly painted finish line. I didn't go out onto the finish line. Some people have a superstition that if you cross the finish line before the race, you risk not crossing it during the race. Maybe it's silly, but with recent events in my life I decided not to risk it.
Police were pacing back and forth along the course. News cameras filmed all the hub-bub as reporters narrated the story. Runners tried to get into the picture.
My legs felt a little tired and achy so I figured I better get back to my hotel and get off my feet. Plus I had studying to do for my exam on Friday.
I grabbed lunch and then went back to my hotel to ready my race stuff for the next day. I laid out my running clothes, bib, GPS, Road-ID (all my emergency information available on the 'net to those who have access to the serial code and pin on the back- for those of you who worry), fuel belt with 5 GU packets (lemon lime-caffeine free), as well as my toss-away clothes that I bought at the thrift store. Then I hopped up on my bed and pulled out my math notes. It didn't go well. I was not interested in studying.
My friend John was in Boston to support his wife and sister-in-law for their race. They both ran it last year (and have run it several times before). One was able to finish, the other was stopped less than a mile from the finish line because of the bombings. John sent me a message that they were all in the back yard hanging out and that I should come over. I wasn't doing anything besides making myself nervous, so I went over.
The girls were painting their nails blue and yellow for the race, one with Team Hoyt letters. I painted my nails an alternating blue and yellow as we all chatted and hung out. The weather was beautiful. We had pasta and pizza for dinner with Easter candy for dessert. We called it a night early so that everyone could try to get some sleep before the big day. I was so glad to get to meet the girls and hang out with them. We'd all be in different corrals, but I knew we'd be thinking about each other during the race.
I took half an ambien and went to bed at 8:15 eastern time, positioning the second half by the bed in case I woke up at 1 am. I slept well and didn't wake up until 4 am. I planned to leave my hotel at 5 am so I had set my alarm for 4:30. I was awake though, and laying there thinking about the day ahead didn't help anything, so I just got up.
My race would not start until 10:25 am, but due to the logistics of this whole thing, I couldn't sleep in. I was nervous about getting parking near the finish line, so I had chosen a nearby parking structure and planned to get there at 5:30 am. That probably seems really early to some of you, but the thing is, you have to get bused to the starting line. I was supposed to load in the second wave, between 7 am and 7:30 am. There was thousands of people in the first wave, so that meant thousands of runners either had to park somewhere or take public transportation. The garage had plenty of parking when I got there, so I sat in the car drinking coffee and eating bread rolls.
Another logistical issue was all the things I would need after the run. Gear check looked to be a nightmare with all the security this year, so I decided to leave everything in the car. I figured I would just run with a car key and that would solve that issue. Well the rental keys were all wired together and could not be separated. It had two actual car keys, two of those clicky things to unlock your doors and open the trunk, as well as a big plastic tag. There was no way I was running with that thing. I hid it on my vehicle and hoped it would all still be there when I got back.
Around 6:45 I got out of the car and headed towards the bus loading area. Along the way I walked under a hotel awning that had heat lights under it. The warmth was welcome in the 37 degree air...me in simple sweats with my running clothes underneath. A woman already there said "Are you elite"? Completely oblivious, I just chuckled and said, "No, I'm just regular". "Ah" she replied. I stood there a little while longer to soak up the warmth. "These guys are all elite" she said as their fancy bus pulled up. Ha. Oh...oops. I looked at another girl standing there, with her eyes focused on the ground. Hmm. I walked off as they prepared to load the bus.
I followed the crowd to the bus loading area and we all showed our bib numbers to get in. A massive line of school buses awaited us. I found a line to stand in and chatted with people next to me. As I loaded the bus, I found a seat with a girl already in it and sat down next to her. As the bus pulled away, it was so noisy from all the chatter that we might as well have been wild school children.
My seat-mate was Joanna who had run Boston before. She's from Long Island. She was in my wave but a couple corrals ahead of me. We talked the whole way. It was around an hour drive which made me wonder about the length of the run. Had it not been for the distraction of conversation, fear and doubt would've wrecked havoc on my nerves. The line of buses snaking along the freeway was just shocking. And several times we passed another massive line of school buses heading back to the finish line to pick up more runners. It was just amazing.
We arrived at "Athletes Village"- a high school and elementary school in Hopkinton set up to (barely) house 36,000 runners. Athletes were sprawled out on the grass and standing in line at one of the hundreds of porta-potties. Tents were set up with coffee, fruit, bagels, medical tents, information booths and a clothing drop. A jumbo-tron stood at the far end of the field with a charismatic announcer inviting us in and giving instruction and updates. Military and police personnel were everywhere, checking for bib numbers and keeping a watchful eye. SWAT-looking men stood on the roof of a building across from the field. Helicopters circled overhead. Joanna and I jumped in line at the porta-potties, then grabbed a water and found a place to sit on the grass in front of the jumbo-tron. We listened to the announcer and some music while we tried to stay warm. Some people were wrapped in mylar blankets, others had brought their own. Some were in trash bags to keep the warmth in, and several were in painter suits. I decided that if I were to don a painter's suit for something like this, I would've had friends and family sign it and draw pictures and stuff on it before the race. Several people near me agreed.
We had a moment of silence for the Boston firefighters who had recently lost their lives in a structure fire as well as a Boston Police officer who also lost his life recently. To hear nearly 36,000 people go silent was a feeling I can't very well describe. It takes a hold of a place.
Joanna and I got back in line for the porta-potties as the first wave of runners filed out towards the starting line. In line, we met a couple other runners and talked for the nearly 15 minutes it took to get in to use the restroom. They were all out of toilet paper, so I took my garbage bag in with me in case I needed it. Another runner passed out portions from the roll she had brought from home. The clothes I was wearing were going back to charity, so in a pinch, those could be used as well.
When we were done, it was time to drop off our clothes at the tent and get in line to go out to the start. The national guard air ambulance (if I've got that correct) did a fly-by and were going to fly the entire race route...taking 15 minutes. For some reason, I was picturing jets. If it takes a freakin' jet 15 minutes to complete this course.... They were helicopters. Not to worry. Hmm.
It was time for Joanna to head to the start, so we hugged and I gave her my number so she could call me after she finished. She carried her cell phone with her. A little after Joanna left, it was my turn. I already had to pee again. We all moved like cattle out towards the starting line. And then....there were a whole bunch of surprise porta-potties at the start. Thank god! As I moved to go towards them, a volunteer shouted "The white wave has already started!" Nooooo!!! I turned back and went towards the start. As I crossed the starting line, I hit the start button on my GPS.
And of course, right away, people were passing me left and right. It was a steep downhill to begin with so I tried to keep it slow and easy. Spectators, police and military personnel lined both sides of the road, screaming and holding up signs. "Toenails are for sissies", "Boston Strong", "No one is going to take this from you today" (deep breath there. I can't tell you how hard it is to run and cry at the same time.) Little kids shouted "Boston Strong". One little guy shouted out "You can do this! I know you can!".
Normally in a marathon it starts out like that. A ton of spectators. Then it peters out. Well, it didn't peter out. There were slightly quieter sections, but none void of supporters. I ran along the wall of people at times to give high fives to those holding out their hands. My name was written vertically on my right arm and some people called out "Go Carrie!". I'd wave in return. On my left arm was a temporary tattoo that they provided in our race bags of a heart and the word "Boston". On my right wrist, under my GPS was a piece of one of last year's banners.
I was able to find an unoccupied porta-pottie just after 3 miles, relieved my screaming bladder and fell into a more comfortable pace. As the miles ticked by, I drank water and took my GU. A few times my hamstring felt balled up but then it would subside. The snapping tendon pulled the whole way.
I passed by blind runners with guides, leg amputees, people being pushed in wheelchairs. I watched a penny pass under my feet and thought of my dad. Can't stop to pick it up Dad, some one can use it more than me anyway. I sucked in a ragged breath.
Having watched the course video a few times, I was mildly aware of landmarks. It didn't matter much anyway, the roar of the crowd kept out all my doubtful voices that like to creep up. It was so loud at times I couldn't even focus enough to check in with my hamstring.
Mile ten brought two churches side by side. The Wellesley College girls would be coming up soon. Sure enough, around mile 13, the Wellesley College girls lined about a mile of street, screaming so loud you can't even hear yourself think. They all had signs on why you should kiss them: "Kiss me, I can handle balls" (what?) "Kiss me I'm from Bejing", "Kiss me, I know CPR". A few guys pulled over to give kisses. It was a mile of screaming wall. It was crazy. It's hard not to pick up your pace there. I laughed to see the policeman there wearing ear plugs. I'm betting it didn't help.
As volunteers held out water and gatorade, they shouted encouragement and thanks for running Boston. That struck me as weird. The amount of people thanking runners for coming to run. That was all so new to me. The volunteers were the ones out there on their own time, just to help some crazy runners run a marathon. But them and the spectators were all so happy to have us there, thanking us for being there. It was just unreal.
At some point, there was a row of college aged guys getting a little out of hand. A police officer pushed one back out of the course and it made me laugh again. It was like being a movie star with crazed fans.
Spectators held out orange slices, red vines and otter pops. A few held out signs for free beer-but the cups had water in it. I saw it was water and had taken a GU too early, so I grabbed one. The guys cheered.
My body started to revolt around mile 18. Well, really it was starting to revolt before that, but I wasn't paying much attention. With the hills now in full swing, I realized how badly my legs hurt and how much they felt like lead. As I came up over the first hill, my IT band on my left leg screamed out in pain. My knee almost buckled. I switched my focus to tightening my abs.
This is where some really bad math started happening. Oh, mile 18, only 6 more miles to go.
I hit mile 19. Wait a minute....
A spectator's sign read "This hill will not break you". I don't know. I don't think it was the hills. I think it was the road. And the road wasn't going away. Going into this I wondered how far exactly you could get on mental toughness alone. Do you really have to train for a marathon if you are mentally tough enough to push through extreme discomfort? I was going to find out.
Please legs, please. I just just want to finish.
All around me, people were walking. People pulled over to the side. They hobbled. One girl called over to the other side of the road "I'm sorry, I'm going to die". I wondered who she was talking to as I shuffled by. Was she calling for medical help? To a friend who was shouting not to walk?
Mile 20. Oh...wait. Yeah. 6 more miles now. Oh my god.
Just think of how far you've come. You've run 20 miles! With almost no training at all.
My feet hurt something awful. My left leg screamed out and threatened to just lock up and stop. The tendon on my right leg was tight and sore. Do not walk. I knew as soon as I stopped to walk, my legs would seize up and I would be done. I could absolutely not walk until I crossed that finish line. And it was so far away.
Just finish. Tighten your abs, relax your stride. Shake out your arms.
I passed by Team Hoyt pushing a wheelchair and gave encouragement as I passed.
I passed by more leg amputees. Carrie, what on earth do you have to complain about?
At some point, someone shouted something about there being less than 3 miles to go. You can endure anything for three miles. DO NOT STOP. I watched a runner collapse into the arms of military personnel and be hauled off the course. Then I passed mile 23. Wait a minute....ugh. 3.2 miles to go. At least I'm not the only one with bad math skills.
People all around me stopped to walk. I pushed on. Some had an incredible surge and sprung by me like gazelles...only to have me come up on them again. I passed by several runners who had collapsed on the side of the course and were completely flat backed being attended to by police and medical personnel.
Please don't stop.
The problem with your circulatory system is that your heart pumps blood to your muscles, brain, lungs and heart. It doesn't do a whole lot of work to return it back to the heart. Your muscles do a good part of that. When a muscle contracts, it squeezes the vein and pushes it up through a one way valve that acts as sort of an elevator to get back up to the heart. When you're running, your body knows you need a lot of blood and oxygen to your legs, so it sends it there. And as long as you keep running, your legs send it back up to be re-oxygenated. When you stop running very suddenly (say, if you cramp up or you're just plain exhausted), all that blood stays down in the legs and does not go back up to your heart. You have a massive drop in blood pressure and you collapse.
I know how I am at the finish line of a hard race, and I know my tendency to just stop. The exhaustion and agony is just extremely overwhelming. Please keep moving at the finish line I pleaded with myself as I passed another collapsed runner.
Mile 24. The crowd's tone of voice changed. They were seeing so many agonized faces, walkers, people limping and collapsing. But we were just 2.2 miles from the finish line! At that point though, 2 miles may as well be 12. It is so disheartening at that point to be so exhausted, in so much pain, and still have 2 miles to go. Ain't nothing but a thing. You can endure anything for 2 miles.
All along the route, I thought of my friends and family that were watching my splits on the internet or through cell phone updates. What would they say if you got this far and quit at mile 24?
The shouts from the crowd sounded desperate. I've been this person before. Watching someone compete in swimming or running, and you know they are so close. They are almost there. But they are walking or barely shuffling along. But they are so close! The screams took on a tone thick with belief and desperation to convey that belief. One girl shouted that they were running with us. I wonder about the stamina of spectators. I mean, really. They've got 36,000 runners going past them. Just a blur of agonized faces. For hours.
I felt dizzy and exhausted. My legs have never felt so heavy and dead before. I had pain shooting in every direction, I could not longer tell where it was coming from. Up ahead was the giant Citgo sign. As I passed it, there would only be one more mile to go. Don't look at it, it's still so far away. A police officer on the side shouted encouragement and applauded the runners. Breathe. Two people from the national guard passed me up and it occurred to me they were running this race. In fatigues and boots. A runner came by and thanked them for their service. Breathe.
Sirens sounded as a line of police motorcycles speed down the other side of the street and my breath caught in my chest as I felt a sting of fear that something had happened. Helicopters continued to circle overhead.
Citgo sign. Another sign on the side of the road "1 more mile to go"-an official race sign. There really was only one more mile to go. The road dipped under a bridge and as we came back up under it, we turned right. Those with the energy to do so surged ahead. Up ahead people were making a left onto Boylston. The finish line was just ahead. Please legs....
As I rounded the bend, I saw official camera men crouched and taking pictures. I did my best but I'm fairly certain at least a few along the race made permanent proof of my agony. Up ahead was the finish line....but it looked so far away. Tighten your abs, relax, just go slow, just finish. I felt ready to collapse. My calves were just short of cramping up. I had nothing left in me. But from here I could crawl. From here, as long as I was not unconscious, I could make it across that finish line.
Under the overhead bridge I went as I watched the blue and yellow finish line cross under my feet. I had made it and nothing else mattered. Keep moving. My calves started to cramp and my left quad seized up. I picked up my walking pace, weaving through the mass of runners being corralled through the finish chute. Medical personnel were everywhere, sizing up each runner that came by. Runners collapsed into the arms of the medical people. I wanted to pull over and collapse myself but I didn't want to try to answer the questions of the medical personnel. Make it to the end. Don't stop, keep moving.
Up ahead volunteers were lined up to hand out finishers medals. I walked up to one woman and faced her as she draped my medal over my neck and congratulated me. Choked up, I croaked out a shaky "Thank you so much." She replied "Thanking for coming to run." I cannot tell you how amazing the people were who came out to watch this, volunteer their time and efforts and support the race and runners.
We were shuttled through to pick up water and a bag of food. When the crowd got stuck and paused, I fell into a panic. If I did not keep moving I was going to collapse. I lifted my legs up and down, keeping them moving and pumping blood through my system. I was balancing a very thin line.
Near the end of the chute, the crowd suddenly roared to life. I turned to see a man down on one knee, proposing to a runner. She said yes and they hugged and cried. I shouted out "Wooooo!" and continued on.
We finally made it out to an open area. We had been corralled back to Boston Commons. There was a grassy field but I didn't know how to get in to it. So I found a shady spot on the side walk and sat down. I pulled out a bag of potato chips and started eating. A sudden feeling of relief and peace came over me. I was going to be ok. I finished the chips and a power bar and a bottle of water and lay down on my back.
I looked up through the tiny leaves of the tree and watched the helicopter circle above me and seagulls occasionally fly by. The sun flitted between the branches. People passed by, some of them looking to see if I was ok, others talking on their phones, trying to find loved ones.
After about an hour of laying there, I walked back to the car to get my things and my phone so I could meet John, his wife and his sister-in-law. On my way from the car to the lobby of the hotel was when my favorite moment of the marathon happened.
My hobble had subsided a bit and I was almost able to walk normally. I asked a volunteer for directions to the Sheraton and then went off on my journey. The crowd was just crazy, a huge mob of people going every which way. I looked out towards the hotel and focused on trying to walk normally. People saw my "warmth retention cape" and my medal and congratulated me. I was so tired. I was just staggering through a fog with the hotel the only focus of my field of vision.
Then I felt a tug on my arm. It's one of those that you expect to turn around and see a familiar face. I turned and my focus was drawn down to a little girl being pulled through the crowd by her mother. She wore a blue and yellow "Boston Strong" t-shirt.
"Good job" she said as she looked up at me and smiled.
"Thank you!" I said and smiled back as she disappeared into the crowd.
I took a deep breath as the tears started to flow again and I wondered how these kids saw all these runners with medals draped around their necks, hobbling like wounded warriors at one of the most prestigious marathons in the world. Are we heroes? Movie stars? What do they see?
I'm betting that she did not see that she was my hero. My heart just jumped out of my chest at that moment. The moment a child looks up at you with such awe as if you're just one of the most amazing people in the world.
I bet she grows up to run the Boston Marathon.
I met with John, Chris and Jenny and we talked about our races. We sat and hung out for awhile and then I knew I had to make my way back to the hotel to get in an ice bath. I had a ton of text messages and voicemails from family and friends. Joanna, my friend from the starting line, had left a message at the finish. I hope we remain friends.
I'm not a big fan of ice baths...or really being cold in any way whatsoever. I braced myself for the shock as I slid in wearing nothing but my Boston Marathon sweatshirt. Within seconds it felt like an amazing relief. I sipped decaf coffee and returned phone calls and text messages. After about 20 minutes, I got out and drew a hot bath.
I had an awesome dinner and talked to the waitress about the marathon. She used to be a runner and wants to get back and run a 5K. I gave her encouragement before I left.
My body hurts everywhere. My shoulders are sunburned. Apparently permanent marker makes a great sunscreen because my name is now sunburnt into the side of my arm. On my left arm is still the heart shaped Boston tattoo. My nails are blue and yellow.
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