I laid in bed Monday, Marathon Monday, PRAYING that I would find clear blue skies, mild temperatures, and a minimal to light breeze outside. Not so much. It was cold. Like 32 degrees cold. Way colder than I had expected. And it was going to rain. Not “oh this might blow through quick” rain, more of a “it will 100% downpour on you during your race” rain. My first thought: I have nothing to wear.
I packed conservatively. Instead of layers and running clothes for different temperatures, I packed three pairs of the EXACT SAME Lulu Lemon shorts. So instead of, “which item will keep my legs warm”, the debate inside my head turned to, “which color will be the least see-thru”. Great.
I settled on the chevron pattern because it was cute. That was my logic. I paired them with compression socks, a Lulu Swift t-shirt, and a hat and prayed I would be warm enough.
Delayed start (I didn’t start until 10:50am) + Sensitive Stomach (I don’t usually eat before I start a run) + Unfavorable weather conditions = Cue emotional distress.
I layered up with throw away clothes (enough to look like an oversized blow-up doll in an Abercrombie hoodie and LovePink sweat pants) and made my way to Boston Commons. Side note – even though I haven’t worn those sweatpants since it was socially acceptable to (10 years ago), I’m really sad I donated them? Does this mean I’m a hoarder? Do I have attachment issues? Anyways…
I got to Boston Commons around 7:30. I was Wave 3 Corral 2 and would be starting around 10:50am. I had anticipated that I would have to wait in line for the buses so I got there early, but was pleasantly surprised to find out I could get on a one right away. The ride out to Hopkinton and Athlete’s Village took a lot longer than I expected. I kept thinking to myself, holy shit, I have to run back. This seems so far. 26.2 miles far to be exact.
Once I got off the bus and made my way to Athlete’s Village my entire attitude changed. The energy was INCREDIBLE. Everyone was so positive. The weather? Who cares! In the wise words of the man drinking pickle juice (I know…) next to me, “Well, at least its not snow”. You know what strange man, you are so right. One of the last texts my boyfriend sent me said, “Qualifying was probably easy compared to the training. Just think about all those brutal 4am runs, runs in the snow, in 5 degree weather. A little rain and some hills wont slow you down now”. It was just what I needed to hear. I had made it here and I was going to make Boston my bitch (which became my mantra for the entire run).
Because of my picky eating style and temperamental stomach, I never eat before I run. But sitting in Athlete’s village, waiting two hours to run, and eying every bagel that walked past me I caved and ate one. I thought that if I don’t eat this I will be starving and cramp during my run OR if I eat this, I could potentially experience some super negative GI effects during the run…. I ate the bagel. YOLO.
After Athlete’s Village we were brought to a holding corral before we were actually able to enter our starting corral in Hopkinton. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to be wearing a garbage bag. It. Started. Pouring.
I wish I had more details about the race, but it is a complete blur. The positive energy of all the runners, the excitement from the crowds (THANK YOU to everyone out in the pouring rain cheering – especially you family xo), and just the fact I was RUNNING Boston, I was at mile 10 before I knew what hit me.
It’s true what they say about the start. The net downhill feels amazing, but boy did my quads pay for it the next day. I felt surprisingly fantastic for 85% of the race. I saw my family at the halfway point which made me smile and wave my arms in embarrassing fashion. Between miles 18 and 24 I was miserable. My feet hurt. I was soaked. My shorts were soaked. And thanks to the 30mph headwind that we turned into during the Newton Hills, they froze against my hips. I tightened up, and I can’t believe I am saying this, but Newton and Heartbreak Hill saved me. My legs finally loosened after mile 23, and I was able to pick back up some speed. I saw the Citgo sign and for the first time all race looked at my watch. Holy shit, I was close to my PR. I set my PR in Chicago. On a completely flat course, on a perfect day (50s and clear sky, no wind). I crossed the finish line in 3:19:48. 50 seconds slower than my best time.
My miles were as follows:
7:52, 7:28, 7:12, 7:11, 7:19, 7:06, 7:18, 7:26, 7:19, 7:21, 7:21, 7:08, 7:19, 7:36, 7:32, 7:19, 7:48 (oh, hi hills), 7:52, 7:52, 8:09, 8:31 (pretty sure I stopped for some Gatorade? Might be when the volunteer asked me if I needed help? Guess I was looking good…), 7:46, 8:02, 7:47, 7:47, 7:36.
I made Boston my bitch and I can’t wait to give it my all again next year. But maybe with a little more of a negative split…
After the longest and greatest shower of my life, we headed to Fig. Their eggplant pizza is the best pizza I’ve ever had. Ever. Which says a lot because I eat a lot of pizza. If you’re ever in Boston and want something delicious, please go to Fig. Surprisingly the restaurant was empty and (thankfully) we didn’t have a wait. My eggplant pie and salad successfully cured my runger and was the perfect ending to a pretty perfect day.
And just so you know, I haven’t taken off my jacket.
Bye Boston. See ya next year !
Anyone have good restaurant suggestions?
What’s your go-to meal post long run or race?