Boston Marathon Race Report

When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to dress me up on Patriot's Day in my marathon outfit and I'd run a course in their backyard south of Boston. As I grew older, the idea of running Boston always percolated, but it wasn't until I started running marathons that I started seriously courting the idea. In her demented state, my grandmother thought every marathon I did was the Boston marathon, so it was nice this past year to be able to say "Yes, Nana, this year I will run Boston."  It is both heartbreaking and fitting that she died on the Thursday before Boston.

Cruising down Boylston

I arrived in Boston exhausted and sad. Thankfully, I was staying with two dear friends who boosted me up. I slept for 12 hours on Saturday night and even slept on Sunday night for about 7 hours. I drank plenty of water and powerade, ate well and stayed off my legs. On Monday morning, I met up with a teammate who convinced me that we didn't need to catch the bus until 6:45. While I'm not sure who was more nervous, having Matt around made for a very smooth race morning. By the time I got into the starting corral, I had 5 minutes to go and was feeling good.

My splits aren't particularly exciting. I went out slowly as planned and stayed steady through the whole race. My one mistake was thinking that I would have any sort of hammer to drop. I felt great throughout the race, but couldn't have picked it up anywhere past 20 without risking a blowup.

Start to 6: Went out slowwwwwwwly. Got in one collision at a water stop and subsequently teamed up with some other people to share cups instead of having to veer off to the left or right.

Mile 1: 7:38

Mile 2: 7:19

Mile 3: 7:20

Mile 4: 7:07

Mile 5: 7:17

Mile 6: 7:08

6 to 16: Spent most of these miles trying to stay patient and telling myself "only ten more miles until you see Mom and Suzy," "only 30 minutes until you see Mom and Suzy."  I will say that I was more than overwhelmed by the Wellesley girls and rolled far left away from their waving arms. I was overjoyed to see my mom and sister at Newton-Wellesley hospital and impressed that they got the whole group around them to also cheer. It was a huge mental boost that carried me into the hills.

Mile 7: 7:01

Mile 8: 7:13

Mile 9: 7:09

Mile 10: 7:12

Mile 11: 7:10

Mile 12: 7:09

Mile 13: 7:09

Mile 14: 7:03

Mile 15: 7:08

Mile 16: 7:01

17 to 21: The Hills!!  I decided early on to approach the hills as an opportunity to run strong, not something to be feared. I am a strong hill runner and actually prefer inclines to flats. I focused on form, using my arms to drive me up the hills. I am happy to report that I think Heartbreak just gets a bad rap...

Mile 17: 7:17

Mile 18: 7:21

Mile 19: 7:24

Mile 20: 7:23

Mile 21: 7:27

21 to finish: Once we were done with Heartbreak (bizarrely announced by a huge inflatable sign), I started to grind towards home. It was about here that I realized a 3:08 wasn't in the cards. I decided instead to try to run smooth and strong to the end. I saw my dad and aunt in Coolidge Corner and my mom and sister again at 25. I struggled with the silence under the Mass Ave bridge, where I had my first opportunity all day to think about the hallowed ground upon which I was running, to remember my Nana and Coop and how proud they would be to watch me finish. Thankfully, that silence doesn't last long. My girlfriends were at the turn onto Hereford and from there, it was time to head home. 

Mile 22: 7:12

Mile 23: 7:19

Mile 24: 7:18

Mile 25: 7:18

Mile 26: 7:12

.2 (slash .4, ooops, not perfect tangents): 2:47 (6:47 pace)

Screw You, Stairs

After my first marathon, I descended the stairs in our house on my butt. I sobbed on the third day when I attempted to drive Will to school and realized I still couldn't move my leg from the brake to the gas. My friends had all run the half marathon, and although they were sore, they weren't incapacitated like me. So as I sat at home and cried that Tuesday, I started googling post-marathon pain to make sure I wasn't alone. Turns out, this crab-walk/hobble/wince wasn't unique. When I came across the video below, however, I cried until I laughed until I cried again.

Today isn't nearly as bad as 2007, but going down stairs still isn't pretty. I'm by no means reduced to my butt, although it's crossed my mind. Downhill is a similar struggle. Coming home from work tonight, I was gingerly making my way down St. Paul Street, when I saw a woman hobble out of her car. In a Boston jacket. Her husband looked on bemused, then noticed me. She and I exclaimed simultaneously, "I'm so sore!" Perfect strangers, united in misery. I love the marathon.

Hurts So Good

Home Sweet Home (and sore)

I promise a full race report by the end of the week, but I'm back in Vermont after a Boston Marathon-Funeral double header, so I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep in my own bed. It will be hard to go back to work tomorrow after more than a week off, but I'm excited to get back into a regular schedule.

Boston was a great experience. While the race wasn't quite as fast as I'd wanted (dreamed?), I ran a very smart, evenly paced race. My second half was only 30 seconds slower than my first, a feat on a course featuring a much harder second half. I was actually smiling throughout the race and save for horrible cramps after the finish, felt pretty good.

I paddled around the pool and hot tub last night and did a light bike workout this morning. That said, I'm still very sore. Stairs, ramps and chairs are not my friends. I'm looking forward to getting back to some light running by the end of the week, but am otherwise going to take the week to recover and reflect.

Thank You

The marathon is an unforgiving mistress. It takes everything you'll give, and like most mistresses, it takes something from those around you too. I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge the group of people who got me to the starting line this morning. (And yes, I wrote this last week, I'm not that motivated or clear-headed on marathon day. That said, if I left you out, sorry. I really tried...)

Thank you to...
-The GMAA Sunday running group, for getting me out of bed all winter long
-Jason, Matt and the rest of the Dee PT team for putting me back together again, repeatedly
-My co-workers, for not teasing me for eating all the time, for forgiving Monday morning exhaustion and for trying to understand why someone would run 26 miles in a row
-My Phour, I won't even try to quantify
-Dr. Jimmy Slauterbeck, Dr. Ryan Duffy and the OSC at Fletcher Allen for pretty scars and a lot less pressure
-The Dailies crew, for keeping me honest, motivated and in awe 365 days a year
-Meredith and Lindsay, because there's a distinct chance that at some point today, my only motivation will be the after-party.

It's been said that the halfway point in a marathon is at mile 20. Miles 20 through 26 supercede training and preparation and most of the time, require pure guts. In my first marathon, I dedicated miles 20 through 26 to people in my life, wrote their names on my pace band and thought of them through some incredibly challenging miles. It worked, and I'm doing it again for Boston for people without whom this would not be happening.

Mile 20: Will Moss. For reminding me who I am and for getting me into this in the first place.
Mile 21: Mom, Dad, Suzanne and Stacey. When the going gets tough, I always have you and there is no amount of thanks I can give for that.
Mile 22: Will Manning. For being the place to vent with someone understands the stakes.You'll be back soon.
Mile 23: Matty. For biking with me in the pitch black, for never questioning why Sunday had to be dedicated to 3 hours of running, followed by ice baths and naps, for your continued effort at understanding why someone would choose to run.
Mile 24: Grampa Coop and Nana. I've been dressing up for Marathon Monday since I was a little girl. I wish you were here to see me finally run Boston, but something tells me you'll both be around. I'll do you proud.
Mile 25: Erin. Good running partners are hard to find. Great running partners are even harder to find. I hope you have a great race today. We deserve this.
.2: For me, because a year ago, I wasn't sure I'd be able to run here.

See you in 3 and change...

~S

Pertinent Information

Want to track me at Boston?  Bib 6803, Wave 1, Corral 7.

The plan, as detailed ad nauseum in an earlier post, is to go out patiently to 16, then start grinding through the hills.

Patience and Grit (aka the Plan)

I debated about sharing my running notebook where all of these plans are sketched down, starred, circled and highlighted. As my calendar post perhaps belied, I am someone who requires a plan to function. However, since this week is anything but normal and I still don't know my travel plans to Boston, I'm going to keep my journal to myself. I will, however, share my plan.

After reviewing my training log (4 times), the Boston course (at least 10 times) and using some of the various calculators available, I think I'm going to aim for a 3:08, plus or minus a couple of minutes. Although this is a 7:10 pace, this certainly isn't an even pace course. Go out too hard, and you'll understand first hand what a meat grinder feels like. Go out too easy, well, I'm not sure that's really a possibility.

My personal plan, in a nutshell, is to go out easy through 16, then grind it in. I'm a strong hill runner and my first marathon was very similar in profile to Boston (http://cityofoaksmarathon.com/course_info/), although without the constant hammering downhill of the first 6 of Boston. I remember this race much more fondly than the pancake flat Las Vegas, where I honestly thought another step at mile 21 was an impossibility.

I assume that my first mile will be slow due to a crowded start. Should this not happen, I am still prepared and planning to run no faster than a 7:20 mile for Miles 1 and 2. Through 6, I am going to be chanting patience in my head (and possibly writing it on my arm). This excludes mile 3, where a steep downhill may naturally pull me a little under. Then the plan is to cruise through to 16, somewhere around 7:05, plus or minus a second. 16 is where I swap mantras for grit. Climbing hills takes more time per mile, and I'm not expecting a negative split on this course, so I think a 7:19 is reasonable through the Hills. From mile 21 in, I want to focus on running strong, with the best form I can manage. If the going gets tough, I'm doing like Kara Goucher and counting to 100 over and over again.

16 miles is a manageable bite for me at this point. It's probably one of my favorite long run distances; long enough to feel like a workout, not long enough to hurt. If I can get through 16 with patience and legs that feel good, then I'm ready to fight like hell for the next 10.

Splits? (Again, pretty flexible, at least on the slower side. I am going to work very hard not to turn in anything under 7 minutes)
Through the half no faster than 1:34:30
16 around 1:54
20 around 2:30.

Getting Warmer

On Monday, the high was expected to be 52. This is the forecast this morning:

50 I can handle. 60 is getting pretty warm, especially if it's sunny. At least the showers will be out of the way. Hopefully all the rain today won't flood the falls in Newton.

Weather is one of the things over which we have zero control in a marathon. We can only react and hope that our reaction makes us as comfortable as possible. I am starting the packing process and have no less than 2 duffels of running related gear (and one small duffel for other clothes). I have everything for a race at 20 degrees with wind to a race at 70 in the rain, plus every combination in between. I still have to get to the Dollar Store to pick up some throwaways, should I need them after I drop my bag.

So despite us having no control over the weather, everyone please cross your fingers that the temperature doesn't get much warmer...

It's Alllllllllllive

I'm mad. Taper mad, that is. Everything hurts, from my left calf to my right ankle and right hip. Did I mention the toe that feels like it's broken or the black toenail. My quads feel tight, my shoulder is sore and I'm pretty sure I've gained ten pounds in the last week and my shorts won't fit. I'm glaring at people out running, obsessing over the course and my mantra, memorizing paces that I'll write on my arm and trying to avoid germs, despite working in a hospital.

You can't make a training cycle during taper, but you can certainly wreck one. It's difficult to resist the urge to do one more long run, one more hard workout. It's hard to remember to stay hydrated, eat well and sleep well when the cornerstone of your routine is missing. The angel on my right shoulder soothes: "Trust the taper, let your body heal and prepare," while the devil on my left snarks: "Do one more medium run, go try race pace, stop eating." And there are still 6 days to go.

Hold on to your hats.

S

One Week to Go

First panicky weather check officially completed: low of 40, high of 55 and sunny.

Next week at this time, I'll be milling around Athlete's Village, anxiously awaiting my 10 am start.

A Year Ago

Hard to believe a year has gone by since surgery. I woke up this morning and went to PT and had a blog entry all sketched out in my head about this anniversary. Then, I got a call that my grandmother had a massive stroke and my whole day shifted. Like most hard days, I ended up running tonight when I got back into town. Running is what I do when I'm sad, when I'm stressed and when I'm happy, and I'm grateful that my return to running started a year ago today.

Before: Scar Free

After: To be posted soon.

What a strange trip it's been from there to here...

Spring has Sprung

"The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month." Henry Van Dyke


It has been a long effing winter. Today, however, as we ran along the bike path, it felt like we'd made it, like we've survived another long, painful winter. The sun was shining, we were in an assortment of shorts and capris and even a strong headwind didn't feel too bad. For Erin and I, this is the end of the road before Boston. The 16 today will be the longest we go until 2 weeks from tomorrow. Our job until then includes resting, sleeping and eating. Cruel that the weather should turn just in time for us to taper, but that's Vermont.


I am not a particularly hopeful person, but this is my favorite season to be a runner. Fall is great, but always has foreboding undertones, as though my legs know that winter and cold isn't far behind. Spring breezes are warm and everything just seems new. In some ways, I'm glad to have my target race fall in early spring so that I can enjoy the end of April and May without a rigid training schedule. Boston meant that we trained through some of the worst weather Vermont sees, but gives us May off to play, heal and get ready for summer.

Run On.

~S

Comfortably Numb

When you live with compartment syndrome, there is no such thing as comfortably numb. Any decreased sensation is a cause for panic. A full feeling in a calf can cause a full meltdown. As such, I have to admit that I haven’t been totally honest about my leg over the past 6 weeks. Part of me felt like I was being hyper-sensitive. The other part felt that if I didn’t admit it publicly, it wasn’t really happening.

About 6 weeks ago, things started to feel off. I wasn’t rolling through my big toe, I had discomfort up near the fibular head and my calf just hurt. No amount of stretching, icing or changing my stride seemed to relieve the pain. On a couple of runs, I lost sensation in my 3rd, 4th and 5th toes. My foot didn’t commence its aggressive ground slapping and doesn’t feel completely like wood, but I got myself to PT in short order.  None of their findings are surprising: I baby my left side, which causes my right side to compensate and explains the perpetually sore hip. My hips are weak in general. My left calf is slightly larger than my right. When you massage my left calf, the tissue turns a freaky shade of no-blood-flow white for a while.

We agreed on an action plan, and I’ve been a good patient. My priority was continuing my long runs; can’t survive Boston without them. I ceded my track workouts and settled for a few faster paced runs. I agreed to bike more and take rest days. But I refused to stop running altogether. My surgery anniversary is next week and although I’ve come an enormous way, it would be crushing to have to stop running for my one year anniversary. Not to mention, I was already reticent to taper from a non-existing training cycle.

Next week, Matt, Jason and I are going to do some long range planning. While the input of coaches and training partners is a valuable piece of the puzzle, Jason and Matt offer a unique perspective that I think is key to me moving to the next level. They know my weak spots. They know the areas they’ve had to massage, laser and stim repeatedly to keep me going. Both are endurance athletes and understand (although they don’t necessarily agree) that I am not going to stop running. As I said to Jason yesterday, I want to figure out what I have to do to fix some of the physical flaws that keep landing me back in PT. That requires about 5% effort from them and 95% effort from me to commit to the strength training, cross training and flexibility work that I know is imperative, yet still skip.

I’m excited to see what we come up with for a plan. I’m starting to look beyond Boston (after all, the hay really is in the barn now) and think about my goals for the next year. There is not a chance I qualify for the Trials this year, which gives me a couple more years of base building and racing experience. I’m looking forward to racing with GMAA and to the Catamount Tuesday Race Series to work on speed and cut down my pre-race nerves. Most of all, I’m looking forward to 8 months without the requisite 20 extra minutes to get on snow clothes.

What are your goals for this season? How are you going to avoid your normal pitfalls?