April 20
th,
2015 marks the 119
th running of the Boston Marathon. I have competed
in this amazing event 7 times, including 2013 when the tragic bombings occurred. I feel extremely fortunate that I finished
the race and had exited the finish area before the explosions occurred. However, that didn’t take away my feelings of
anger and sadness.
The Boston Marathon occurs on Patriots day;
a day of families, happiness and rejuvenation.
How dare someone bring so much hurt to this day! I knew I had to return for my 7th Boston in 2014 to join in the “take back the race” effort.
This year I
have chosen to forego the race to participate in the Vermont City Marathon in
hopes of getting a personal best time. As great of a race as Boston is, it
offers its own unique challenges (such as heartbreak hill and the adjoining
hills of Newton, MA) which make running a personal best time difficult. However, I will still be following the race
this year with excitement, and most likely with a slight sense of sadness that
I am not there.
The
Boston Marathon has always held a great deal of mystique for me. I still recall
sitting in the back seat of the family car as a child and looking up in awe at
the “It all starts here” sign while traveling through Hopkinton. We had
relatives in the area and would periodically travel there for visits. Little
did I know that one day I would be running in this extraordinary event and gaze
at that sign through much older eyes.
The marathon
itself is a metaphor for life; you get out of it what you put in. By
persevering through the challenges you experience the joy of achievement and
success. In this blog post I have chosen
to share with you my experiences at the 2011 Boston Marathon (in which I set a
course personal best) to help illustrate this point.
From Hopkinton to Boston; The 2011 Boston Marathon through
my eyes
It’s Monday, April 18th,
8:00am and I’m walking up Hayden Rowe in Hopkinton, MA. I’m on my way to the Hopkinton Middle School,
home of the Athlete’s Village for the 2011 Boston Marathon. On Sunday evening, I was fortunate enough to
be able to stay with friends in Hopkinton, avoiding the need to catch the
official race day transportation bus to the starting line, which left early
that morning from Boston.
I’m walking up Hayden Rowe, because
the streets surrounding the middle school and starting line are closed to
traffic. My friends dropped me off as
close to the Athlete’s Village they could get, which was just under half a mile
away, leaving me to walk the remaining distance, this is fine as it allows me
to work off some race-day jitters.
As I approach the Athlete’s Village,
I can feel the energy in the air.
Thousands of runners are spread out on the school grounds, stretching,
hydrating, and doing their best to stay warm.
The temperatures are expected to reach the mid 60’s and the sun is
shining, but there is a steady wind that puts a slight chill in the air. I don’t want to expend too much energy
walking around, so I search for a spot that’s out of the wind as much as
possible, where I can sit and relax and stretch.
Directly behind the school, I see a
spot located between two buildings, which can provide both shelter from the
wind and sunlight to help me stay warm.
As is typically the case on race day, I’m anxious to get started. However, I’m not scheduled to report to the
starting line for at least another hour, so I bide my time by listening to
motivational music on my iPod and visualizing the race ahead.
My training for this year’s race
was more aggressive (as far as mileage and speed-work go) than in the
past. As a result, I have high
expectations for the race, with a goal to accomplish a new course personal
record. However, with challenges unique
to the Boston course, I'm not expecting do to complete a personal record
marathon time. I knew that I was prepared
to run strong, but variables such as how you respond to weather conditions,
make the marathon a challenge regardless of how well-conditioned one may be.
With that in mind, I am having some
doubts about whether I can really run a PR.
Fortunately though, these doubts are overcome with the help of Steven
Tyler and Aerosmith. On my iPod are
several Aerosmith songs, one of them being “F.I.N.E.” In the chorus for this song, Steven Tyler
repeats the words “I’m ready, so ready,” and while I know he isn’t talking
about being ready to run a race, it reminds me that I am, in fact ready.
Finally, it’s very close to the
time that I need to report to the starting line. I shed my warm-up clothes and my iPod, giving
them to race volunteers to transport to the finish. I want to get to the start early enough to
watch the elite women, who are scheduled to start before the elite men. Between television and news articles, I have
heard so much about these women, and am excited to see them in person. I am also interested in watching some of the
elite men, however the fact that I am scheduled to start at the same time makes
that impossible.
The elite female runner I’m most
interested in seeing is Kara Goucher, who in 2009 came within seconds of being
the first U.S. female winner of the Boston marathon since Joan Benoit Samuelson
in the early 1980’s. Each of the elite
women does their warm-up near the starting line. Kara Goucher just so happens to do a warm-up
run within 20 feet of me. While I had
envisioned her being taller, she was just as attractive in person as in
magazine photos. All of the women,
including her, looked very fast.
The time has now come for me to
race. The starting line is sectioned off
into corrals, which runners are assigned based on qualifying times. I am in corral #5, meaning that I will be no
more than 2.5 minutes from crossing the starting line once the starter’s pistol
is fired. In my corral, I strategically
locate myself on the left-hand side.
This is my 5th Boston Marathon, and I have learned that being
on either the inside or outside of the pack allows me to run much more free and
without encroachment.
After the typical ceremonial events,
such as the singing of the national anthem are performed, the starting pistol
is fired. The 2011 Boston Marathon has
begun. The first four miles are a steady
decline, so past experience tells me it’s very important to control my
pace. It’s very easy to go too fast on
the downhills in early stages, which will ultimately catch up with me as I
approach the infamous heart-break hill.
To achieve my goal of setting a new
personal record, I will need to average approximately seven minutes per
mile. However, as the pack is usually so
congested during the first few miles of these races, I’m being forced to run at
a 7:30 pace. Going too slow now will
require that I have to make up more time later on. A 7:30 pace is slower than I should be going,
but unfortunately there is not much I can do about it. For now, I will look for any opportunities I
can to open up my pace.
After the first mile, I’m able to
pick up my pace. I will aim to gradually
make up time over the upcoming miles as opposed to running a few too quickly. I cross the 5k checkpoint at 22:03, which is
right at my target pace, so much for not making up that time too
quickly. I am wearing my heart rate
monitor to keep myself honest. While my
heart rate has fluctuated some, it has not risen too high, indicating that I’m
still running within my capabilities.
The start is always full of
excitement, with hundreds of spectators lining the course. Approximately 3 miles into the race, we enter
Ashland and pass by one of the liveliest spots, TJ’s Spirits. We’re greeted by patrons who’ve arrived early
on in the day to celebrate and cheer on the continuous stream of runners. There’s so much energy from the spectators
during this stretch that I have to actively focus on my own pace. Looking ahead, I see a steady, uninterrupted
stream of runners, and I know the same can be said about what’s behind me. We must resemble a human river running
through the streets of Massachusetts.
Leaving Ashland, we enter
Framingham and I cross the 10k checkpoint (43:29), putting me right at 7-minute
miles. I am on pace and still feeling
strong. This stretch of the course is
straight and wide, which can make it tough on a hot day with no place to hide
from the sun. Fortunately a nice tail
wind guides us along and keeps us cool.
At the 15k checkpoint (1:04:45),
the course runs by Lake Cochituate. While
my eyes are focused on the road ahead, having that scenic vista makes the run
mentally easier. My pace at this point
has decreased to 6:56 per mile. I think
to myself: at this pace, I could break 3
hours. I know, however, that the
hills of Newton may tell a different story.
The next famous landmark is the
Scream Tunnel at Wellesley College, but that’s not for another 4 miles. For anyone not familiar with this famous part
of the Boston Marathon course, this is where the women of Wesley College stand
and scream at the top of their lungs for all the runners passing by. Keeping a controlled pace by Wellesley
College takes extra focus, and since I have 4 miles until then, I must keep my
pace controlled for now.
This is my 5th Boston
Marathon, and each time there has been a large, hand-written sign in Natick,
stating Detour with a large arrow
pointing to a keg party at a nearby house.
Sure enough, this year is no different.
While I’m always up for a free beer, I don’t feel that that would be too
conducive to setting a PR marathon time.
So I opt not to take the detour.
I continue to run along at a
strong, steady pace through Natick and crossing into Wellesley. I know that any minute now I’ll be hearing
the screams from hundreds of Wellesley college women. Based on past experience, Wellesley is a
point in the race I can use to gage my performance. While only just shy of the half way, in years
past, any indications of a bad race usually start to appear in the form of
fatigue at this point. The cheering
women at Wellesley provide a great boost, but if I’m having a bad day, this
boost is very short-lived. So I approach
downtown Wellesley hoping for the best.
Rounding the bend just before
Wellesley, I start to hear the distant screams.
As expected, the traditional lives on, and the women are lined up outside
of the college. As I get closer and
closer, the screams become louder and louder.
It takes everything I have to maintain my composure and keep my pace
steady. Running through the infamous
scream tunnel, I move closer to the right side of the road where more of the
women are located to absorb up as much of the energy as possible. Numerous signs are held up saying kiss
me. While tempted, I’m on PR pace and
don’t want to lose momentum. If only
these ladies could be lined up at the finish, I would be happy to oblige.
I eventually exit the scream tunnel
as the course dips down, only to rise back up again into downtown Wellesley,
the official half way point. While
downtown Wellesley is certainly not lacking in spectators, the scream tunnel is
a tough act to follow. But, as always,
the cheers of the crowd are uplifting. I
hit the half marathon at (1:31), slightly ahead of pace with miles just under 7
minutes each. Even better news is that
I’m still feeling great with no signs of fatigue, and my heart rate continues
to remain steady. The sun is still
beating down, and if it wasn’t for the wind, this might be uncomfortably
hot. The tail wind is still providing a
nice, cooling effect.
The next town we’ll be passing
through is Newton, where the real fun begins.
As I continue to run through Wellesley towards Newton, I replay my
strategy in my mind for dealing with the Newton hills: quite simply, survive. I will do my best to maintain my steady pace,
with the understanding that it may in fact decrease slightly. My goal is to keep this to a minimum however.
While not that steep, the hills
present challenges because of their location in the race. Starting at approximately mile 18 and
continuing through mile 21, this is where runners typically hit “the wall,” the
point at which runners begin to lose fuel and have to dramatically slow their
pace. Having to deal with hilly terrain
can bring on “the wall” sooner if proper pacing has not been sustained. Due to the downhill stretches in the early
stages of the race, at this point the runner’s legs can feel like Jello, thus
making the uphills that much more of a challenge.
Statue of Boston Marathon Legend Johnny Kelley located in Newton, MA
When I crest the top of heart break
hill (the last of the Newton hills) at mile 21, I will then open up my pace and
aim for a strong, final 5.2 miles. As
the course crosses over Interstate 95 and enters Newton, the number of
spectators increases. I know that any
moment, we’ll be rounding the bend, turning off Route 16 and onto Commonwealth
Avenue by the Newton fire station. This
is where the hills begin.
To help prevent cramping from
dehydration, I take two electrolyte capsules,
drink some water, grit my teeth,
and prepare for hill #1. Hills have
always been one of my strong points.
While disliking them like most other runners, I tend to perform well on
them. While on my initial ascent, I
cross the 30k checkpoint (2:10). I’m
still at my 7-minute mile pace and well on my way to achieving my PR.
From past experience, I recall that
there are some flat and downhill stretches between the major hills. While running my first Boston Marathon in
2004, these downhill stretches deceived me into thinking the hills were behind
me. I won’t be fooled so easily
today. As I approach the second of the
Newton Hills, I am starting to feel some leg heaviness. This hill is the steepest of the three, and
I’m anxious to have it behind me. I
power my way up, increasing my pace in the process. As I do so, I see runners on both sides of me
having their own encounters with “the wall.”
Some are walking and some are jogging at very slow paces. I feel for them, but hope that’s not me in a
couple miles.
At the top of the hill, I’m feeling
more fatigued than I should. Perhaps I
got slightly greedy, and went faster than I should have. I’ll do my best to use the stretch between
here and hill #3 ( aka heartbreak) to recover. There are mile markers at every
mile along the course, and I use them to make sure I’m on pace. At this point in a marathon, each mile can
feel like two. The last mile marker I
saw was mile 18. Looking ahead, I see
mile marker number 20. Somehow, I missed
mile 19. Perhaps I blacked out for a
while. Regardless, I’m happy to see that
this is in fact mile 20, and that it didn’t take me 15 minutes to run 1
mile. Mile 20 also means heartbreak hill
is just ahead. I focus on keeping my
legs moving for 1 more mile, and know then that the hills of Newton will be
behind me.
Ascending heartbreak hill does feel
a bit more laborious than Newton Hill #1, but overall, I feel good. I keep my eyes peeled for the church on the
campus of Boston College. This is a
beautiful sight, not only because of the architecture, but because it means
that I’ve reached the summit of Heartbreak Hill. I continue to chug my way up, and finally,
the church is within sight. In my head,
I rejoice. There’s still 5.2 miles to
go, but it feels awfully nice to have those hills behind me.
Just pass the top of Heartbreak
hill is the 35k checkpoint (21.7 miles), which I cross at 2:32. This translates to 7 minute, 2 second
miles. Still on track for a PR, this
consistent pace means I’m using energy efficiently. Boston College is also a high-energy stretch
of the course, as students show up in force to cheer on each and every
runner. This energy helps build the
excitement of entering Boston. Shortly
after Boston College, the course enters Brookline. The Boston skyline is now in sight in the
distance. While great to see, there are
still over four miles to go. I need to
keep my excitement in check as the last four miles are typically the toughest
of any marathon.
Continuing down Commonwealth
Avenue, just past Mile 22, the course descends to Cleveland Circle turning onto
Beacon Street. My legs are feeling quite
lively, so I attack the downhill, taking advantage of every opportunity I have
to knock seconds off my time. I round
the corner onto Beacon Street. The
street is open, long, and straight, with no turns in sight. This can be tough mentally, especially in a
fatigued state.
There may be just about four miles
remaining, but after running 22, it can feel like a long four miles. To make this more bearable, I utilize one of
my common strategies of breaking the remaining miles down into segments. Instead of having 28 minutes left to run, I
tell myself I have four 7 minute segments. I hit mile 23 with my most recent
mile split being 7 minutes, 15 seconds.
This is slightly slower than what I’d been averaging, but not slow
enough to negatively effect my PR quest.
Continuing down Beacon Street, more
and more buildings of downtown Boston are becoming visible, including glimpses
of the famous Citgo sign, located in Kenmore square. Suddenly my pace drops dramatically. Every step feels like I have ankle weight attached to me. While I haven’t hit
“the wall,” it’s certainly taunting me.
It’s as if it’s taken human form and is running behind me, whispering in
my ear, telling me that today is not my day after all. I have visions of my PR slipping away. My legs are heavy, and with each step the ankle weights grow in size. My split for
Mile 23 is 8 minutes, a full minute below what I have been averaging.
I think to myself, just get through this. Even if you don’t achieve a PR, you’ve still
had a great time. But then another voice
speaks to me louder and screams; No! You’ve
trained too hard! You came here to PR,
and that’s all that’s acceptable! I know that my fuel is running low, and each
step is pulling “the wall” closer to me.
I have two Gu energy gel packets remaining and quickly consume
both. I then hit the next water stop
where I drink both water and Gatorade. I
may not have much fuel left, but I’m going to use every bit of it to get to
the finish line as fast as I can.
The combination of Gu, water, and
Gatorade do their job as I feel a bit of a spike in my energy. I dig deep and put the throttle down. I hit Mile 25 with a mile split of 7:20. I’m too fatigued to do the math, but I’m confident
that if I keep this pace that the PR will be mine. The course then takes me through Kenmore
square, certainly one of the most exciting sections of the course, not just
because there’s only one mile to go, but because this is a rare opportunity to
run though one of the busiest sections of Boston. I try to put on a good show and hide my
pain. Hopefully I’ve succeeded.
Just past Kenmore square, the
course dips down underneath Massachusetts Avenue. I am elated because the finish line is oh so
close, about ¾ of a mile. At the same
time, I feel like I’m running on fumes.
The course is requiring me to run uphill to re-connect with Beacon
Street, thereby causing me to work a little harder. My low fuel supply has left me in a bit of a
daze, but I’m confident at this point, I can maintain my pace.
Upon reconnecting with Beacon
Street, I see the turn onto Hereford Street just ahead of me. Inside, once again, I’m rejoicing because I
know that Boylston Street, the location of the finish, is at the other end of Hereford. Knowing this has caused me to
accelerate. I turn onto Hereford Street
and see the runners in front of me, ascending a slight incline and rounding the
corner onto Boylston Street. In my
fatigued state, even a slight incline can feel like heartbreak hill all over
again. But as I approach this incline,
knowing what lies around the corner gives me the boost I need to propel myself
onward with my speed unaffected.
I round the corner onto Boylston,
and in the distance I see one of the most glorious sights that any runner can
see, the finish line of the Boston Marathon.
It’s looming in the distance, which in my dazed and dehydrated state,
makes it resemble a mirage. I know
however, that this is no mirage. This is
the real thing. Even though the finish
line is in sight, there is still about a half mile to go, and in open stretches
such as this, you can run and run and feel like you’re not making any
progress. My internal fuel supply gage
is on ‘E.’ The ankle weights on my feet are once again getting larger. With the finish oh so close, I’m bound and
determined to get my PR.
This final stretch is loaded with
spectators. The energy they supply with
their cheers resembles the force of a tail wind, pushing me along to my
destination. I know that every step
brings me closer to the finish, so I focus on the road in front of me, not the
finish line in the distance. As I
continue to run down Boylston, the cheers become louder and louder as I get
closer to the finish. Typically, the
adrenaline of being near the finish allows me to bring out my inner Carl Lewis
and kick to the finish.
My brain summons my legs to kick
into a higher gear so that I can sprint to the finish. But, much like Scotty in the engine room of
the USS enterprise, my legs say; “we’re giving it all we got captain.” I continue on, picking up my pace slightly,
but not to the degree I would like. The
finish line is within reach, no more than ¼ mile away. At this point I’m running on sheer determination. I put my head down, dig deep, and use every
bit of my remaining fuel to power my way towards the finish line. About 20 feet from the finish I I hear the
announcer say: “Maurice Brown from Burlington, VT.” This makes me feel like a rock star as I cross the
finish line in 3:06:03, exactly 60 seconds faster than my previous best Boston
Marathon time.
Despite my concerns at mile 23 and
my close encounter with “the wall,” today was, in fact, my day. I can now officially use every runner’s two
favorite letters of the alphabet, PR, when referring to my time.
Whether your goal is to run a marathon, become more healthy and fit, start a business, etc...there are often setbacks along the
way. These setbacks can resemble “the
wall” that a marathon runner may encounter.
But just like in a marathon, these setbacks often occur when you’re
close to success. With any goal, the
closer you are to success, the more obstacles you encounter. What makes the difference between success and
failure in these instances is how you handle yourself in the challenges you
face.
