2014 Boston Marathon Race Report - an Unrelenting Sun and an Unmitigated Disaster

Perhaps in a few days, or a few weeks, or a few months I might be able to look at this race differently. But for now, I will give the raw and brutal assessment. In short: it was a f***ing disaster.

...

Oh, the visions of grandeur that I had leading up to this race. Four months of training where I averaged 70 miles/week, peaking at over 100 miles one week, with six runs of 20 miles or more, and PRs along the way at every distance from the mile to the half marathon - all working towards one goal: the Boston Marathon.

"How's the training going?" people would ask. "Very well," I would respond. "Are you ready?"..."I am very ready." And I was. But Marathon Monday was not my day. It was my 'day in the sun,' only in a bad bad way.

Everything leading up to the gun went well. Walking up to the starting line I bumped into Yoshi, and we shared some words of support and encouragement, and it seemed there was a chance we would be able to run together for awhile. I was in Corral 1 of Wave 4 - and able to line up right on the starting line. When the gun went off, one runner on the far right of the line went out at a full sprint. Two other runners went out hard, with one runner quite obviously moving at far quicker than race pace and the second runner only moderately quicker. I was in 'fourth' and holding a comfortable pace. A little quick perhaps, but not really, since I'm efficient on downhills and general. I deliberately slowed during the second and third miles to settle back and find a comfortable rhythm on a relatively flat stretch. Right around that time Yoshi caught up to me and we were able to run with each other for awhile. I could tell early on, though, that my original goal of breaking 2:50 was not happening. The sun was strong, and the temps were too warm. And because of those factors - I was sweating bullets by the 10k mark. So I pulled back a bit, ran 6:40's, and let Yoshi run his own race (which ended up going fantastic for him, 3:03:08! Nice work, man!).

I was adhering to my pre-race plan:
'always be willing to loosen the screws, and never tighten them back up until after the 20 mile mark.'

Around 10 miles, I pulled back a little more and ran 6:50's. As I passed the half marathon mark in 1:29:10. I took inventory. Could I run the second half in 1:29? No. 1:31?...sigh, no. Ok, run based on effort until mile 20, then re-adjust. I passed my Aunt Suzanne and Kathleen, then the CSU tent, all feeling OK. Turning onto Comm Ave I started on the Newton Hills. As I ran along, all the normal pains that occur as you approach the 20 mile mark were present. My feet were hurting from slapping against the pavement on the downhills of the first half. My quads were starting to get that heavy feeling. But none of that worried me. Something much worse was going on and I could tell - the sun had taken it's toll and it would continue its unrelenting beat down for the remainder of the race. A disaster was looming. Could it be avoided?

As I passed Jon and Joanie around mile 18 I faced that reality. "Looking smooth and strong," I heard. And I responded with, "the wheels are going to come off." Whether audibly, or in a grumbling mumble, I'm not sure. Unfortunately I wasn't being pessimistic, only realistic. I continued through the hills and passed Elizabeth right around the 30k mark. I was doing fine, but I wasn't happy. I think she could tell.

I hit the top of heartbreak hill, and my legs were moving and my lungs were fine, but 'it' was still there...rearing its ugly head more and more: my muscles had began to spasm. I pressed on knowing what was going to happen, but hoping it wouldn't. Pushing through mile 22 I was hurting, but managing well. Just near the start of mile 23 I caught up to a runner from the starting line that I had shared a few words with prior to the race. We spoke for a little bit, sharing our thoughts on the race up to that point. Then it hit me: running a qualifying time is within reach. I would have to pick it up, and it would hurt - but my lungs were fine. And frankly, I thought my legs were capable. I could deal with the pain. I had dealt with pain that was much more intense only a week prior. I just had to hope that I could keep the spasms at bay. I wasn't going to go down for lack of trying. Unfortunately, about a half mile or so after I refocused towards the finish I had a mini-cramp. I slowed a bit to keep it under control, and mile 23 was too slow. I wasn't sure I could run the final 5k+ at the pace necessary, and I wasn't sure my legs would allow it. And so I slowed down a little bit more, running at about a 7:45. But the cramp would come back, and it would come back with a vengeance.

Right at the start of mile 24 it happened: a tornado of muscle. It's happened before, but this one will certainly be one of my most memorable. As my right hamstring seized I grabbed it immediately and hobbled to the barrier keeping the leg straight and hoping for it to release quickly. It would not. I tried stretching it this way and that way. Nope. As I was struggling, a drunk woman walked over to comfort me, "keep going man, you got this!" I had my head on the railing trying desperately to unlock the muscle, and so I just waved her along as politely as I could. After ~4 long minutes of struggling, the muscle finally released.

Prior to that spasm, I had felt pretty good, but 4 minutes is a long time. And they were agonizing minutes that truly sapped me. Not just of energy, but of any hope or optimism I had left. My training felt like a waste. And the previous 23 miles felt like a hard effort all for shit. However, I still had that final 5k to go. 5k....never had such a short distance felt so long.

And yet oddly enough, that's where most of the details in my brain cease to exist. I remember looking for familiar faces in the crowd, and doing my best to pull some inspiration and adrenaline from the deafening crowds (who, by the way, were incredible from start to finish) and I remember pulling up numerous times to walk briskly when my hamstring would start to cramp. The final details of the race I vividly recall are from the final stretch on Boylston. I had such a huge sense of relief to be so close to the finish. I looked at my watch and noticed I was going to sneak under 3:20, perhaps even under 3:19. But my disaster of a race would not be over so soon.

A tenth of a mile from the finish line my right leg would seize up again. My hamstring knotted up into a baseball and the outside of my right quad flattened out and warped in what would have otherwise been an alarming way, if not for another man lying flat on his back with medics surrounding him, only five feet away. The spectators along the fence simply looked on, not quite sure of what to say, thankfully. I gave my leg a death grip and dug my fingers deep into the muscle. Such a strange and horrible feeling. The muscles involuntarily thrashing back and forth. But, pain is temporary, I thought to myself...I looked over and saw a little kid staring at me, his eyes wide and clearly a little frightened at the two broken down men in front of him.

My race had not gone according to plan, and my body was in shambles. But after seeing the look on that kids face I was done waiting for my legs to cooperate. I reached out for a high five, and just started moving. The muscles were still locked up and cramping, and I ended up running like a pirate with a wooden leg - but I crossed the finish line.

There was an immediate sense of frustration and though my muscles soon released, I had no sense of relief. I grabbed a water, said "no thanks" to the medal.

After meeting up with Elizabeth and my parents I spent a good deal of time sitting on the sidewalk with cold sweats and dizziness.  I keeled over once or trice and went into a fit of dry heaving. And I also had a few other indicators from my body that said, "that was a hard effort." Hopefully I didn't scare my mother too much! But I now take some comfort in that post-race pain. Though I very much failed in my effort to run under 2:50, my willingness to suffer is going to be a source of strength at some point down the road.

Boston 2014 in the books...

Splits:

1	06:06.1
2	06:36.4
3	06:43.9
4	06:44.6
5	06:55.5
6	06:52.7
7	06:46.6
8	06:42.8
9	06:46.9
10	06:52.4
11	06:57.2
12	06:51.5
13	06:57.7
14	07:04.3
15	07:06.2
16	07:20.3
17	07:37.8
18	07:34.5
19	07:26.6
20	07:56.6
21	08:23.1
22	07:30.2
23	07:47.5
24	12:37.2
25	10:25.8
26	09:19.4
.2	05:08.1

3:21:11