It was a cool blustery New England morning and I waited at the meetup point to board the yellow school buses, shivering in the cold along with 27,000 others. The wind was from the South-west and it would give us a helping hand all the way home. It was the kind of day they say they get once in 10 years, a 'no excuses' day. This was it. All the buildup work; the hills in Germany, the lonely tempo runs and the physically exhausting long runs, the end of a journey that began way back at the beginning of 2009. Finally I had the chance to test my mettle on the most famous 26.2 miles in running.
The bus ride out to the start in Hopkinton was quiet and I passed the time by chatting to a 2nd year med student from Louisiana who was also running her first Boston. To be honest, I just wanted to run then and there but I knew there was still a three hour wait in the athletes village before the race started. Previously I had tried to imagine what it would be like to run in Boston but nothing can really prepare you for it. When you arrive in the city, there is no doubt the marathon is on. There are posters everyone and every shop keeper, publican and hobo wants to know if you are running on Monday and what time you are aiming for. It’s a race for runners in a runner’s city.
When we arrived at the athletes village after the bus ride from Boston, I found a nice quiet spot in the corner of the large field, placed my rubbish bag down on the slightly damp turf, grabbed one of the free bagels and a coffee and tried to make myself as comfortable as possible while I waited out the time until the start. The atmosphere in the village was festive, if a little edgy. As the time ticked closer to the race, gradually people started getting out of their w
arm clothes and into their race kits. The toilet queues started to grow. Knowing how important it is ‘to go before you go’, I jumped in a nearby queue and waited my turn. I couldn’t do it. I got out of the portaloo so someone else could use it and went to the back of the queue to see if the ‘urge’ would come again in another 10 mins. After failing for a second time and then a third time, I decided to give up and just hoped that I would make it through to the end without getting the call of nature during the race. About this time, the first call for the wave one runners was made and it was time to wander the 500 or so metres to the start line. I dropped my baggage off in the school bus, took a final look around the village, tried to relax and began the wander to the start line.Standing on the start with 24,000 others the atmosphere is nothing short of electric. This was to be my third marathon and it definitely felt different from the other two and not just because Boston is so much larger than Melbourne. My first, was of course my first and with it comes the fear of the unknown, the questions of whether you can finish, whether your goal time is realistic etc. For my second I was going for a sub 3:10 and a BQ, so I was decidedly edgy prior. This is a good thing. Now, I was too calm, too relaxed. There was no pressure and with it no anxiety.
I had set myself a time goal of 3 hours with plenty of uncertainty if I was in the right shape for it. All had to go on was a fast tan time trial and an assurance from Grechy that I was quick enough, hardly reassuring... Before my other two marathons, I have run a half flat out about six weeks prior and used this as a guide to set my marathon pace. Of course, being an autumn marathon (for southerners) and training in the Melbourne Summer, there is just no lead up half marathons to run, scarcely a 10 km. So I had no idea if I had the time in me. I knew I was in better shape than in October last year, but 07:30 better shape on a tougher course, in a foreign city was anyone’s guess.
The gun went and nobody moved. This was expected because I was in the fourth corral of the first wave and about 4000 people back from start line. After what seemed like minutes but was probably only a few seconds, the crowd slowly inched forward and we were off in the 115th Boston Marathon. In the end it took about two minutes for me to get across the line.
I knew the first 10 km of the race were primarily downhill, so I immediately took focus and concentrated on hitting my 4:15/km splits. Everyone around me was more or less running at the same pace and combined with the downhill, this was relatively easy, although not as easy as I had hoped. As always in a marathon, your race pace needs to feel slow at the start otherwise it could be a long day. Sometimes in races you just seem to get a feeling that you are not quite right, not quite “on” and that described how I was feeling in those first 10 km. Probably here I should have revised my target time to 3:05 or something similar but I decided to press on with the original goal.
I took my time to take in the atmosphere early in the race while I was still feeling relatively comfortable. The crowds lining the course right from the start were incredible, there were 8 year olds offering you a drink and giving you high 5s and of course the typical “Go USA” and “Good Job” shouts of encouragement. At one point some idiot yelled out “I only run when chased” but aside from that the crowd was extremely encouraging the entire length of the course.
One of the things I was noticing about the course early in the race was the constant undulations. Unlike Melbourne that is essentially pancake flat, at Boston it seems you are constantly either heading up a short climb or down a short descent, although the descents predominated early on.
I had a Runners World pace band on my wrist in addition to the Garmin 405 and was using this to gauge my mile splits in addition to km splits (a bit obsessive compulsive there). By 6 miles I think I was about 20-30 seconds down on where I needed to be. I made the decision to try and claim back this time over the next 6-7 miles to halfway but the legs were not responding and by 15 or 16km I was just starting to hang on to the pace.
In the end I went through halfway in 1:29:47, which meant that I was still on track although I would have to run a superb back half on the notorious back half of Boston and get an even split, something I have not yet come close to in my other two marathons. I think in my head at this stage, I knew the 3 hours was gone. I just wasn’t feeling sharp enough at this stage of the race and could already feel the struggle to hold my km splits.
I barely held onto my target pace over the next 5 kms, dropping about 30 secs during this period. One thing that people tell you about marathons is that you can’t get lost time back – and it’s true. Even 30 secs lost over 5 km is a massive mountain to climb to get back over the remaining 17 km and I had a voice telling me I couldn’t do it. It was now clear to me that I was "blowing up" and there was nothing I could do about it.
"Blowing up" in a marathon I have now discovered is a ‘slow death’. At first your pace drops 5 secs per km, then 10, then 20. By the time I reached 30 km I was running 4:35s and it was getting a whole lot harder each k. To add to my growing misery were the Newton Hills, which are a series of 4 smallish ascents starting at about 26 km and culminating in the famous Heartbreak Hill.
By the time I reached the top of Heartbreak Hill I had used my last gel and I was totally spent. I knew there was about 8 km of mostly downhill to go but I couldn’t muster the strength to push my pace. The km I just completed at the top of HeartBreak Hill was a 5:03, painfully slow but I felt I had nothing more. I did my best to try and hold 5 min per km pace for the last next few kms but I was crashing badly and the downhill was trashing my quads (In the end looking back at my splits I lost about 7 minutes over the last 8 km, so a P.B was still well and truly on even with 6 km to go). Where was Boylston street and the glorious run home to the finish line?
In my opinion, the worst thing about blowing up in a marathon is the ton of people that go flying by you as your pace falls off a cliff in the final few km of the race. You are already feeling terrible and having everyone fly by you like you are standing still is demoralising (I have vowed to never run another positive split in a marathon).
After what seemed like the longest 7 or 8 km of my life finally I turned for Bolyston street and somewhere deep within I found a little bit of juice. I couldn’t undo the damage of the previous 7 or 8 km but I could at least finish the final stretch as strong as I could. Crossing the finish line was more relief than ecstasy, this had been without a doubt my toughest marathon and there were plenty of lessons learned. Despite the initial disappointment of a poor performance, in reflection the Boston experience was truly amazing and I would recommend it as something that all runners should strive to do at some stage in their life. As for me, I have a score to settle with those 26.2 miles, so one day I would love to go back…
My 5km splits for the race were as follows:
(split) (cumulative)
5km: 21:11 21:11
10km: 21:11 42:22
15km: 21:12 1:03:34
20km: 21:36 1:25:10
25km: 21:43 1:46:53
30km: 23:00 2:09:53 <------ Ouch
35km: 24:26 2:34:19 <------ Ouch
40km: 25:37 2:59:56 <------Ouch
Finish: 11:54 3:11:50
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