By request, I am re-posting my blog post I wrote for the website www.mygroupfit.com about the Boston Marathon. I posted this almost 6 months after the race, in September 2013. As I was writing to group fitness instructors, there is a definite nod to that audience, for what it's worth. Here it is:
I wanted to run the Boston Marathon way
before I knew I wanted to run the Boston Marathon. When I ran my
first 26.2 (Vancouver, BC, for my 40th birthday), I had no
idea how well I would do, and (officially) my goal was just to finish
without stopping. Unofficially, I wanted to qualify for Boston. Just
for the feather in my cap. I had no intention of actually running it.
Or another marathon. Ever again. I did not qualify for Boston that
day – I came up just a few minutes short, right behind a guy
dressed like Picachu.
It took me 3 more marathons to finally
qualify, thanks to the new, faster standards of qualification. By
that time I had decided that I really did want to conquer not only
the qualifying time, but the race itself. In April 2012, I ran the
Eugene Marathon in 3:38:16, enough to qualify me by nearly 7 minutes.
My training started the week of
Christmas, which happened to be 16 weeks before Patriot’s Day. I
read everything I could about the Boston Marathon – the history,
the course, the previous winners, the traditions, elevation charts. I
fine-tuned my training, and I changed my usual courses to finish
uphill to prepare for Heartbreak Hill. I came across a former winner
of the Boston Marathon on the track one day, and asked him to
fist-bump me for good luck. I read extensively and practiced what I
read about marathon nutrition. I ate SO many carbs. I checked weather
reports obsessively, and packed for every possibility. I went into
this race more nervous and prepared than ever. I had every reason to
expect a personal best.
We arrived in Boston a few days before
the race. The world’s oldest marathon is, as you might expect,
HUGE. People were everywhere, and from everywhere, and the excitement
was palpable in the city. In addition to being the biggest race I’ve
ever run, it is far and away the most organized, friendly race I have
ever seen. The volunteers astounded me with their efficiency and
enthusiasm, as if they were as excited as the runners about being a
part of this event.
Race morning was perfect. The weather
was cool and mild, the buses to Hopkinton ran efficiently, and the
staging area was overwhelmingly large, but well-organized. The moment
of reverent silence was incredible when the announcer asked that we
honor the victims of the Sandy Hook shootings, to whom mile 26 was
dedicated. After a couple of trips through the porta-potty lines, I
arrived in my corral just before the starting gun fired. I was in
wave 2, with the other runners who were expected to run between a
3:30 and 4:00 race. I turned to the runner next to me and gushed “I
can’t believe we’re running the Boston Marathon,” and started
to run.
The first few miles are downhill, and
that, combined with early-race adrenaline, has been the downfall of
many Boston runners. I held myself to a strict 8:00 mile pace through
mile 5. Staying on the edge and high-fiving the kids along the side
helped, too. I reached the halfway point about 30 seconds ahead of my
projected time, and flew through the Wellesley “scream tunnel”
laughing the whole way at the spectacle. By mile 15, I was feeling
like a spoiled Oregon runner, as the direct sun and lack of wind
started to magnify my fatigue. By mile 16, I was starting up the
first of the three hill climbs, and began to lose a little steam. I
managed, by mile 21, as we crested Heartbreak Hill, to be about 2
minutes behind my target time, but still on my way to a personal
record. The wind felt so good that I accelerated, and felt sure I
would get my 2 minutes back. At mile 22, I crossed the railroad
tracks in Newton, and remembered reading how many runners fell here.
In a glorious moment of positive self-talk, I spoke to myself –
“don’t trip”. My brain must have only heard the second half of
that, because BOOM! I went down. The crowd shouted “AAAAAWWWW!”,
as I rolled, crawled, got up, and started running again, hearing
“YEEEEEAAAAH!!!” as I stumbled away. I thought that would be my
big “Marathon Story”.
I managed to finish a little less than
a minute slower than my goal, a little disappointed, but ultimately
happy that not only did I run the Boston Marathon, but I qualified
again.
I am very lucky to have had a good 45
minutes of “glory” before the bombings. 45 minutes to get my foil
cape, my medal, retrieve my belongings, and find my family. I was
very lucky to have easily found my husband, daughters, and
sister-in-law at the meeting place, and take pictures and get hugs,
before beginning to wander back toward the hotel.
We were only a block away from the
bombs when they went off, but we were on the other side of a
building, shielded from any real danger. We didn’t know what the
noise was; just that it was very loud and didn’t sound right, but
there was no immediate panic in our area, so we wandered on. Over the
course of the two-mile walk back to the hotel, the truth came upon us
in waves. People talking on cell phones frantically, people crying,
an abundance of police cars, then ambulances. By the time we saw
S.W.A.T. teams pass by, my husband Sean overheard someone say there
was a bombing. We passed a dry-cleaner that had a television facing
out toward the street, and it was showing the first news on the
bombings. Sean and I said later that it reminded us of the footage
they show of the night JFK was shot. People gathered, crying,
watching the news play out on the television in the window.
Our whole post-marathon Boston
experience was overshadowed not by grief and sadness, but by the
goodness of the people around us. Bostonians are amazing people, of
strong stock, but so full of heart and sincerity. Marathoners are a
resilient and friendly bunch, as well, and overall, our take-home
from our week in Boston was much more about how most people are
wonderful, rather than how a few people are not.
Upon my return, I told my story a lot,
and thought about it a lot more. A client of mine urged me to write
about it, but it took me a long time before I was ready to. I thought
about how to bring meaning to my experience in words, and I wondered
what I had to say about it that wasn’t already written by a better
writer. I thought about how I could write for a group fitness blog
about marathoning and how to make it significant. My experience
wasn’t unique that day – more of us finished unscathed than not,
and other people had more powerful stories to share. As I thought
about my experience as an average Boston Marathoner, as a person who
is remarkable enough to make it to the big day, but unremarkable in
the crowd, I thought about the clients and participants who attend my
classes every day. I wouldn’t consider any of them unremarkable,
and in fact, each contributes to the whole of the experience. That is
what makes group exercise so different than other forms of exercise.
It’s the same thing that makes running a race more special than
running around the neighborhood. One is not necessarily better than
the other, but there is something special about being in a group. I
think about it a lot when I run. I fiercely defend my long run day,
my only real “me” time that I regularly take, but I would not
give up my time with my groups. We can’t be held back by fear –
fear that we’re not good enough, fear that we’ll fail, fear that
something bad will happen. By creating a community, we create a place
that is safe and strong. We can’t prevent things from going wrong,
but by creating a community of strength, everyone is uplifted, and
ready to meet the next challenge, together.
I thought about running the Boston
again next year, to experience the event with its expected joyful
conclusion, but I have decided not to. I will always have the memory
of that wonderful and horrific day, and the emotional days that
followed, and it will always be special. I will instead choose to see
other cities though a marathoner’s eyes, and make new memories and
become parts of new groups.
