Boston Marathon, 2017

Boston Marathon
April 17, 2017
3:19:19

Prologue
Going into last year’s Boston marathon I thought that I would be a “one and done” runner, but the race and the surrounding culture really does grab you. When registration came around this year I just couldn’t say no. My registration was accepted and I began my training on or around January 1.

Training
It is pretty hard to predict fitness. There are certain workouts that can be used as indicators and there is cold hard data- weekly miles accumulated in training. During most of workouts my pace was based on a 2:45 marathon pace and I was having lots of success. But from January 1 to race day I ran 708 miles for an average of 47 miles a week. I have always struggled with motivation. But…the running was faster and I felt like I was in more control; running smarter. I know that I will never toe a starting line feeling fully confident in my training- so I’m not going to worry about that anymore. Going into the race I felt calm, committed to running a smart race, and executing my plan. I was sure that my allergies would clear up once I got out of Texas and up to Boston. Oh yea, then the night before the race my newly formed poison ivy started to throb with shooting pains.

Race day
My training partner and hombre Ashish and I decided to take the standard issue school bus down to the start in Hopkinton. Unlike our 1%er training partners who take a private charter. About 30 minutes into our drive I notice that our bus has left the highway and is passing through small town after small town. We are not on the right route. Eventually we are stopped at a closed road by a cop who instructs us to turn around. The phone that our driver was following had rerouted us around the road closures. Yes, the roads were closed for the buses to drive unencumbered. For the most part we stayed calm and arrived to the start with plenty of time. This was just another opportunity to be okay.

Miles 1–5
Easy start- carrying good speed. I was in a pack of Chilean and Colombian guys. One of them wore a bib that said he was 65. We were averaging 6.20 per mile. At one point someone ahead threw a plastic bottle into a lake that we ran past. It flew through the air in slow-motion. We all watched and when it hit the water the South American guys were in shock. Welcome to the US. We grind on. I’m having a hard time breathing- I forgot to take my allergy medicine in the morning.

Miles 5–10
Welcome to Framingham. This year confirms it. No town parties harder than Framingham. The whole town smells of stale beer and everyone is 4th quarter plastered- we are 40min into the race! Amazing. This is town is full of Massholes and they are fully committed to supporting this marathon. We are their hero of the day and it is a damn joy to run through this town on Marathon Monday. My pace slows. I know that I am still in range but I feel off. My stomach is queasy and I am feeling myself push harder than I should be this early. Mile 7 I puked, just a little to clear my stomach and settle my nerves. This seems to be a thing for me. I wasn’t going to have a year like I did last year so I decided to adjust my goals from sub 2:50 to sub 3. Mile 10 was hard- just flat out- I begin to realize that I just don’t have the gas to go faster. I begin to mentally flail myself for every reason under the sun. I consider dropping out of the race.

Miles 10–15
I think about Jackie and how she missed entry into this year’s race and about how there are thousands like her who didn’t get the chance to run this year. No way can I drop out of the race. I decide just to hold on and enjoy as much of it as I can. I wrap my head around “Boston Strong” and absolute spectacle that this race is. At mile 13ish you pass through the Wellesley scream tunnel where the lovely ladies of Wellesley offer kisses to passing runners. I wanted to get a good look at this and it did not disappoint. I opted for high fives and displays of my wedding ring, but I sure did see a bunch of kisses. Guys would zoom in and nab one or two and these ladies were not shy- these were full on lip kisses. I was amazed. The whole scene is reminiscent of a bygone era. It seemed like everyone was having a good time, I hope that was the case. Okay, I think, I can finish this race…on to Newton!

Miles 15–20
The hills of Newton are the most famous aspect of the Boston course. Taken individually or out of context of the race these hills barley befit the name, but miles 16 to 21 are where Boston is won or lost. I like hills. I like Newton. I didn’t run them fast I just took it all in. Great lawn parties here, everyone is amped.

Miles 20–25
Cresting Heartbreak hill brings you to Boston College and the course falls away from your feet. The close has begun. Go hard from here and you have achieved Boston glory. I didn’t deserve to close here. I had just run a pathetic race. I lacked commitment to my training and to the race. I had dishonored Boston. I didn’t deserve to requalify for next years race. I should probably stop running. This race exposed me to a giant mirror and I didn’t like what I saw. Mediocre race, job, life all of these things have the potential to be amazing, but I lack the skills to make it so. Damnit Jamie. Everyone is closing. Not me. I am even yo-yoing with that foamy pit kid. I am usually that foamy pit kid. We are all the foaming pit kid. Damnit Jamie. I think I need a gel- you don’t deserve a gel Jamie! Fine. Keep going. I think I am going to lose my big toe nail. Damnit Jamie.

Miles 25- finish
Well, I’ll take what I can get. I’m not sure how I will face my friends and family. I am nearly 30min off my goal time. Right turn//left turn// now I see the finish. I cross to the shady side of the street and pick it up home. I pass someone walking — Now I know what it means to have a shit race, but no one, and I mean no one, should walk on Boylston. I drop back, put my arm around this guy and we start to run it in. We finish and he wants to be friends. I don’t want to be friends, Boylston is no walk zone. I move through the chute and get my medal, they put it around my neck and I tear up- it’s killing my poison ivy (which is around my neck). I walk to the Arlington church and, with the huddled masses, find Jesus on the stairs of the shaded side. I nap for a second and reconcile all of the loose ends of my life that gave me this poor performance at Boston. No easy answers, I need to reinvent myself. My poison ivy is spreading to my face, I’m exhausted, and my allergies haven’t gone away. Maybe I’m missing something.

Epilogue.
I was really down on myself after this race. I avoided seeing most of my training partners and set out on the town with my old friend Ross and his GF’s 13 year-old brother. It felt like a deleted scene from a Wes Anderson movie- I guess I am doing something right in my life. At some point I begin to text with Jackie and our doctor friend about my poison ivy. The next day I would learn that this isn’t poison ivy at all. I have shingles. Fatigue, flu like symptoms with no fever, shooting pain, weeping blisters on one side of the body, all of my loose ends made sense. I never had allergies- my body was fighting a terrible resurgence of the chicken pox virus. Oh. Okay. Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on myself…I ran a 3.19.19 with shingles! Boston Strong!