Monday mornings set the tone for the week, but I guess that goes without saying. For my workout schedule, if I don't get a run in on Monday morning the whole week feels a bit off kilter. I always fear falling behind my goal of running or exercising 5 times per week. Missing the Monday workout means I'm behind the eight ball and can only miss one other day all week! That's too daunting and makes it easier to rationalize that I can write off this week and concentrate on next.
But if I get my early morning run on Monday then I get to work with the feeling that I'm already ahead of the curve. I don't need to rush home and try to get a run in before dark, or break up my day with a lunchtime visit to the fitness center for a boring treadmill session. The little pains I feel climbing the stairs to the 3rd floor each morning remind me that I've already accomplished something today, this week, this year.
From a fitness standpoint it's probably not a huge thing. I often hike both days of the weekend, so I'm already getting a good amount of exercise. Sunday is really the first day of the week according to my software tracking but that's not they way my lazy self rationalizes it. I've found that I can't give my self a sliver of justification to avoid exercise. The best Monday mornings are: wake up, put on running gear that I set out the night before, put on the MP3 player to some loud fast music, and be out the door less than 10 minutes after the alarm goes off.
After that, the rest of the week is up to me.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Bangalore mornings
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| The hotel pool at 5:00 AM |
I was fighting jet lag for most of the week so getting up at 5:00 wasn't a big problem. The run seemed to anchor the day, getting me off on the right foot (pardon the pun) and helping me adjust. The only problem was that the steady diet of authentic Indian food was giving me a slightly upset stomach that made running slightly uncomfortable but wasn't enough to stop me.
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| Another kind of running |
I'd love to find a way to run outside on future trips to Bangalore but I'm just not sure that's going to be possible. Running on the roads would be insanely risky, plus the air pollution from the traffic would make it difficult to have a good run. Maybe I'll take some trips out of town next time and explore some areas where an outside run would be feasible. But for now, it's the hotel gym and Bollywood movies.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Morning run - June 1st
My alarm goes off at 6:00 and I hear the radio announcer start the headlines at the top of the hour. The cool breeze blows across my body and I remember that I wanted to run before work today. Up, put on the new running shorts, find a pair of socks and track down the calf compression sleeves. Why didn't I lay out my shoes the night before? Grab a bite to eat, drink a little left over iced tea from last night, put the earbuds on (Tide is High by Blondie) and start down the stairs. It's cool and refreshing as I put the watch into training mode, stretch the legs a bit, and take off at a slow pace onto Magnus St.
My first steps are slow and uneven, pretty common for my morning runs. I should stretch more before running but the first mile acts as my warm up. Past The Biscuit as the first patrons of the day head in for their morning coffee. Past the stacks of dry ice containers at Acme Ice, waiting to be unloaded. Savenor's isn't open yet, and the papers sit on the stoop in front of the convenience store. I begin to settle into a rhythm as I see one or two other runners headed opposite me. Construction workers carrying their lunches in coolers are arriving at the Fogg Museum, traffic is light but there's steady flow in and out of the Dunkin' Donuts. At a mile I'm now running comfortably, still cool but I can feel the heat building.
I stop at Memorial Drive waiting for traffic to clear and see many more runners and bikers traveling up and down the river. The light changes and I'm across, running on dirt now as I spy a single shell in the water headed upstream. It looks like Robyn, who paced me in the marathon, and I decide to have her pace me again. I accelerate and find a new gear in an effort to keep up with the boat cutting through the still water with efficient strokes. Is it really Robyn? I don't know but she managed to pace me again regardless. I turn across the Lars Andersen bridge and head downstream, leaving the shell behind
There are fewer runners on the Boston side of the river and more bikers. My steady footfalls propel me past the Weeks foot bridge, the Western Ave bridge and I turn at River St. I pass a few of the runners I saw earlier on heading in the opposite direction, everyone looping in their own orbits. Crossing back to the side streets I glance at my watch, checking my pace and thinking about the 1.5 miles remaining. Up Dewolfe and Bow streets, stepping on my lucky manhole cover before climbing my one hill, thinking to myself that Stairway to Heaven is an awful running song. As I turn on Kirkland I spot a woman ahead of me wearing a shirt from my first half-marathon in June 2010. My pace is a bit faster and I reel her in by the time we cross Beacon St. As I turn to home I see a small table out on the curb with a "free" sign that would fit in my hallway. I loop back, adding an extra .2 miles to my run and stop the watch as I reach the table.
As I carry my new possession back to the house I can feel the heat catch up to me. It's going to be another hot day but I've completed my first task. The rest of the day will include this sense of accomplishment and some well earned satisfaction. Maybe tomorrow I can start a half hour earlier?
My first steps are slow and uneven, pretty common for my morning runs. I should stretch more before running but the first mile acts as my warm up. Past The Biscuit as the first patrons of the day head in for their morning coffee. Past the stacks of dry ice containers at Acme Ice, waiting to be unloaded. Savenor's isn't open yet, and the papers sit on the stoop in front of the convenience store. I begin to settle into a rhythm as I see one or two other runners headed opposite me. Construction workers carrying their lunches in coolers are arriving at the Fogg Museum, traffic is light but there's steady flow in and out of the Dunkin' Donuts. At a mile I'm now running comfortably, still cool but I can feel the heat building.
I stop at Memorial Drive waiting for traffic to clear and see many more runners and bikers traveling up and down the river. The light changes and I'm across, running on dirt now as I spy a single shell in the water headed upstream. It looks like Robyn, who paced me in the marathon, and I decide to have her pace me again. I accelerate and find a new gear in an effort to keep up with the boat cutting through the still water with efficient strokes. Is it really Robyn? I don't know but she managed to pace me again regardless. I turn across the Lars Andersen bridge and head downstream, leaving the shell behind
There are fewer runners on the Boston side of the river and more bikers. My steady footfalls propel me past the Weeks foot bridge, the Western Ave bridge and I turn at River St. I pass a few of the runners I saw earlier on heading in the opposite direction, everyone looping in their own orbits. Crossing back to the side streets I glance at my watch, checking my pace and thinking about the 1.5 miles remaining. Up Dewolfe and Bow streets, stepping on my lucky manhole cover before climbing my one hill, thinking to myself that Stairway to Heaven is an awful running song. As I turn on Kirkland I spot a woman ahead of me wearing a shirt from my first half-marathon in June 2010. My pace is a bit faster and I reel her in by the time we cross Beacon St. As I turn to home I see a small table out on the curb with a "free" sign that would fit in my hallway. I loop back, adding an extra .2 miles to my run and stop the watch as I reach the table.
As I carry my new possession back to the house I can feel the heat catch up to me. It's going to be another hot day but I've completed my first task. The rest of the day will include this sense of accomplishment and some well earned satisfaction. Maybe tomorrow I can start a half hour earlier?
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Long run without training goal
Went out for a 10 miler along the Charles yesterday. It was the first long run since the marathon and it was interesting running without a specific goal in mind. I remembered pointedly when I did my first 10 mile run and it was such an important milestone for me. This was just a workout, but in some ways it is equally significant. I was running because I'm a runner, not because of an upcoming race or event. It feels good to be out there for a solid workout at a fair pace because it is part of my life. I was wearing one of my Boston Marathon shirts and I saw a woman with one as well; we exchanged a knowing glance and my pace picked up a bit. There were plenty of runners on the path around the Charles and I felt more a part of them than ever.
As I got to the Mass Ave bridge I knew it wasn't going to be 10 miles so I went on to the Longfellow and revisited the site of my first lunchtime runs at ChoiceStream. By then I had settled into my run rhythm and I could let my mind drift as I passed and was passed by other runners. I rolled up my long sleeves and dug a little deeper for the last 3-4 miles, wanting to get some speed work. The route is so familiar that I don't really have to thing, in contrast to the trail run I did with Mats last weekend where I was constantly looking at the terrain.
Monica summed it up for me - I'm training for a goal, but I just don't know what it is yet.
As I got to the Mass Ave bridge I knew it wasn't going to be 10 miles so I went on to the Longfellow and revisited the site of my first lunchtime runs at ChoiceStream. By then I had settled into my run rhythm and I could let my mind drift as I passed and was passed by other runners. I rolled up my long sleeves and dug a little deeper for the last 3-4 miles, wanting to get some speed work. The route is so familiar that I don't really have to thing, in contrast to the trail run I did with Mats last weekend where I was constantly looking at the terrain.
Monica summed it up for me - I'm training for a goal, but I just don't know what it is yet.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Tuckerman Ravine as a recovery day
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| Arriving at the Bowl |
Marathon season is over! Time to get back to skiing while there's still snow. I'd been putting aside skiing for a while, only getting a few days in the last month before the marathon. This was my first chance to take advantage of good weather for anything but running. I had a little apprehension, wondering if my legs were recovered enough for this but there was no time like the present to find out. Monica and I stayed up in Gorham, NH so we could get an early start for Saturday which promised to be a nice weather day. After an early morning breakfast at McDonalds we pulled into Pinkham right around 7:00 which was still early enough to get a spot on the right side of the main lot. By 7:20 I was in my telemark boots with skis on my back; Monica was on alpine gear so she was carrying skis and boots and wearing hiking boots. There was less snow down low than I'd hoped for so I ended up attaching my skis to the pack for the first 1/3 of the trail before switching to skinning until we reached Hojos, which took around 1:25. That was the fastest I'd ever made it up there with skis on so maybe there's something to all this running for getting into shape after all. Along the way we encountered some rain which turned to snow, but there was clearly the promise of a bluebird day.
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| Monica on Tuckerman Ravine Trail |
Just a short break there as we wanted to beat the crowds and we climbed up to the Bowl, arriving by 9:15 or so. Left Gully was our objective so we headed up to some rocks below the Chute and started our change over. There were some folks up in the Bowl but not that many, only a few people we skiing already. The Crevasse below the Lip was nasty looking and I was amazed at the people climbing below and through the area. We spent some time rearranging packs and leaving unneeded gear before headed up the still empty boot ladder. There were only a few folks above us, maybe a dozen at most. The climb was as usual, steady, slow, and enjoyable. Just below the top out was quite steep; we were using our hands in the foot holds above us. By the time we reached the top there was nothing but sunshine; a completely blue bird day! We watched a few folks who had arrived before us drop in while we rested and hydrated. Eventually the top was clear so we put our skis on and got ready. Monica skied the run without stopping so I have no pics of her. I took my time with a few stops along the way. Conditions were prime; soft corn on top of a pretty firm base. The first couple of turns are on very steep terrain, requiring some jump turns and careful balance. It's a stark contrast from running and hiking, which is basically putting one foot in front of the other. I have to say I was enjoying the thrill.
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| The steep part of the Left Gully boot ladder |
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| Monica ripping it up on Hillman's |
It felt great to have a day back on skis after missing so many days this winter. Going to Tucks is a lot of work but well worth it, sort of like running the marathon. There are times on the way up the boot ladder that you wonder if all this work is going to pay off in the end it always does. It's hard to say if I'll ever run another spring marathon like Boston. Training in the winter is just so difficult and it requires me to give up something that I also love. I'm looking at a fall marathon right now, perhaps running one with my brother which would be a lot of fun. In the meantime I'm recovering the best way I can.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Shipping up to Boston
The worst part of running the Boston Marathon for my first marathon is now I have a an inkling of an idea that I could run faster. I had leg cramps for the last 10 miles which made me walk a minute each mile, so I know that if I managed to get that under control and do a bit more speed work I could get my time down. It's a lot like golf, where one perfect shot builds up the hope that you could actually do this well at some point. At the finish line I didn't want to even contemplate another marathon but now, almost a week later, it doesn't seem like such a bad idea. My brain is trying to kill me.
The weather forecast for Patriot's Day was wonderful; sunny and not too warm, with a tailwind predicted for much of the course. I really couldn't ask for a better day; in my mind I had been picturing sweltering hot days or sleet and freezing rain. As is par for the course, I didn't sleep much the night before the race, but was feeling as good as could be expected when Monica dropped me off at CRI at 6:45 AM. There, I met up with Robyn and the other CRI runners who were taking the van to Hopkinton. Although she had qualified for the race, Robyn hadn't had the chance to train as well this year and her longest run was only 16 miles. Her stated plan was to run to BC then exit the course and pick up her van at CRI, but until then run with me as a pacer and coach. I was pretty confident that if she made it to BC with me she'd finish the race, but I didn't say anything.
We rode out to Hopkinton and an animated conversation about our expectations. Three of the folks in the van had run Boston before so they knew what to expect at the Athlete's Village. Two of us were newbies and were pretty excited about the whole experience. The van dropped us off about 1.5 miles from the village and we walked along the road in the chilly wind. Choosing to wear the heavy sweats and bring the wind jacket was fortuitous; it was cold. Once in the village we did the only sensible thing to do - line up for the porta-johns. We spent the 2+ hours sitting on the grass, trying to stay warm, and periodically going to the porta-johns.
Around 10:20 AM we in the third wave had dropped off their bags in the buses and we were all moving out towards the starting corrals. Robyn had grabbed a discarded Cornell sweatshirt to wear to the start line and I had my Dartmouth t-shirt on - I felt very collegiate. Two folks in our group were in corral 9, the last one, so we all decided to start there instead of our assigned corrals. Robyn wasn't even in our wave - she qualified for Wave 2. As we approached 10:40 the crowd slowly moved forward. The atmosphere was light, but there was certainly an undercurrent of tension. Most of the people that far back either hadn't run a marathon ever or hadn't run Boston. Expectations seemed low, but uncertainty was high. Just after 10:40 the lead runners started and it took us 4-5 minutes to reach the starting line. We broke into a trot and then started running at our target pace. The marathon was on!
Robyn and I settle in side-by-side, with periodic arcs around and between slower runners, or as we parted to let faster runners by. We quickly lost sight of Clai and Anne, leaving just us two. I checked my pace to make sure I wasn't going out too fast on the downhills and was happy to see that we were keeping to the 9:30 target. Except for the very first drop, the downhills aren't drastic so it's easy to start out too fast. It was amusing to see runners headed off into the woods in the first mile or two to take a leak even though I figured I'd be doing the same eventually. It took two miles or so before it really dawned on me that I was running the marathon. Woo hoo!
The first water stop was at mile 3, and Robyn said she's get water for me - just keep running. We did that for the first 10 or 12 miles but after that I just got my own water/Gatorade. She was doing a fantastic job keeping me focused on pace and not getting overwhelmed. Having someone there to chat with, point out the costumes or the interesting spectators made the time go by quicker. I remember the woman with the sign that read "Drunk (again)" who most certainly was. The Eiffel Tower replica was impressive. We had settled in with people who were all running about the same pace, so we'd see them on and off for the next 4 hours. There was a guy in front of us for most of the race who must have had "Dave" on his shirt as people were cheering "DAVE!" a lot. My Dartmouth shirt got a lot of "Go Dartmouth" and "Yay Big Green" along the way, to Robyn's amazement.
As we approached Wellseley College just past mile 12 I could hear the Scream Tunnel, and it lived up to its reputation. A half-mile of screaming college co-eds eager to kiss anyone going by with a bib number is quite the sight. I chose not to engage them but I enjoyed the Dartmouth cheers and reading some of the imaginative signs. Soon after that was halfway point and I realized that I wasn't going to have a great performance. I could feel the beginning of some cramping in my calves but didn't want to stop and stretch as long as I could keep up the pace, now around 10:00. I spotted a co-worker in the crowd, the first familiar face I'd seen on the course, and that buoyed my spirits.
All along the way, Robyn was the best running companion a first time marathoner could ask for. Even though I'd run the course, she knew it far better, kept and eye on the clock, and distracted me when it was clear I was hurting. After hitting Mile 16 I said I needed to walk for a minute while taking my water to give my calves a rest. That would pretty much be the pattern for the rest of the race, sometimes I'd walk for 30 seconds, other times for up to 2 minutes. Robyn was always there keeping an eye on the clock and supporting me when I started running again. She had a great look on her face that seemed to say "I know you feel that you need a break right now, but it'll all feel better once you finish. Now get moving!" At least that's how I interpreted it.
At mile 17, just before the hills, I grabbed some Gu from the tables set up on the route and they helped a bit. Just before the firestation I spotted Jeff in the crowd by his house and he took some nice photos of me and Robyn and ran with us for a short bit. Just as we made the turn onto Comm Ave we passed a troop of soldiers with full packs and we pretended all the cheering was for us. The turn at the fire station is a major milestone; it signals the start of the hills. I'd run these hills a dozen times but never with my legs feeling quite like this. Running in the main street instead of the carriage way was new, but the hills remain the same. At one point I needed to stop and stretch my calves, this was my only true stopped point on the marathon. All other times I kept moving. Soon after that I was passed by a guy running in a business suit.
Getting to the top of the hills at BC felt great, and the downhill stretch was good for my calves. It was not so great for my quads but they're big, they can take it. Robyn chose this point to tell me that this was the longest in terms of time she had ever run. That's a motivator for you. We turned at Coolidge Corner and cruised up Beacon. Robyn pointed out the Pru which is essentially the finish line - it really didn't look that far away. Amazingly I saw a few friends in the crowds, or more accurately they saw me and got my attention. On we went past Washington Square, the Citgo sign was almost close enough to touch. I was looking for Monica and Bob and Geri now, somewhere along the left side of the course. But I made it all the way to St Mary's without seeing them and thought for a second that I had missed them somehow. But just before the bridge over the Pike there they were! I got a hug and a kiss for my troubles, and was now ready for the final stretch. (Oh, the Red Sox won!) Past the Citgo sign, onto Comm Ave, under the overpass and looking for Hereford.
As we made the turn onto Hereford Robyn went into full coaching mode. "See that? It's Boylston, the last turn on the course. Now, two more stop lights and the finish line. Just look at the finish line and it'll be over soon!" I listened to the cheering crowds as well but Robyn's voice was much more motivating. I managed to spot Bobby who was working a detail near the finish line but that was all the energy I had. 100 more feet. 50 feet. I'm there; hands up and look at the camera! Can I stop running now?
We slowed down and stopped. That felt good. My feet were swollen and hurting but no sharp pains. My calves were still cramping but I could walk no problem. My quads had started to hurt a bit but they're just babies; suck it up. Other than that I felt pretty good. We got our water, Gatorade, then our medals, mylar blanket and food bag. I ate the salty stuff, drank as many fluids as I could, and kept walking slowly. Robyn called her husband and arranged to meet at the Mass Ave bridge for a ride home; she was planning on just walking back to Cambridge but I thought this was a better deal. We hugged and said goodbye; I'll always remember and try to repay the gift she gave me that day. I think chocolate might be a good down payment.
The walk to the meeting area was slow and painful, my feet were quite swollen. Soon after arriving there Monica arrived, out of breath from running all the way to the finish through the crowds. She had my Crocs which felt SO GOOD on my feet. I changed into my sweats and put on a jacket (making sure that medal was on the outside) and started a slow shuffle to the Park St T stop. After my experience at Disney in January, I admit it was extremely gratifying to walk through the Common with a Boston Marathon medal around my neck and exchange knowing looks with other finishers and accept the congratulations from others. It was just now beginning to sink in that I'd run a marathon.
The walk from Harvard Square to my house went surprisingly easy, and while not skipping along I had some life in my legs. The next day I was pretty sore and spent most of it around the house but by Friday I was able to go for a run again. Except for the cramping and sore feet (and I'll probably lose a toenail) I thoroughly enjoyed my first marathon. I think that by using the word "first" I'm acknowledging that I will be running another one someday, maybe even this fall. I spoke to my brother and we're making tentative plans to run a fall marathon together this year. I know I have it in myself to run faster, and more importantly to me, run better.
I think I've answered the question. I'm a runner.
The weather forecast for Patriot's Day was wonderful; sunny and not too warm, with a tailwind predicted for much of the course. I really couldn't ask for a better day; in my mind I had been picturing sweltering hot days or sleet and freezing rain. As is par for the course, I didn't sleep much the night before the race, but was feeling as good as could be expected when Monica dropped me off at CRI at 6:45 AM. There, I met up with Robyn and the other CRI runners who were taking the van to Hopkinton. Although she had qualified for the race, Robyn hadn't had the chance to train as well this year and her longest run was only 16 miles. Her stated plan was to run to BC then exit the course and pick up her van at CRI, but until then run with me as a pacer and coach. I was pretty confident that if she made it to BC with me she'd finish the race, but I didn't say anything.
We rode out to Hopkinton and an animated conversation about our expectations. Three of the folks in the van had run Boston before so they knew what to expect at the Athlete's Village. Two of us were newbies and were pretty excited about the whole experience. The van dropped us off about 1.5 miles from the village and we walked along the road in the chilly wind. Choosing to wear the heavy sweats and bring the wind jacket was fortuitous; it was cold. Once in the village we did the only sensible thing to do - line up for the porta-johns. We spent the 2+ hours sitting on the grass, trying to stay warm, and periodically going to the porta-johns.
Around 10:20 AM we in the third wave had dropped off their bags in the buses and we were all moving out towards the starting corrals. Robyn had grabbed a discarded Cornell sweatshirt to wear to the start line and I had my Dartmouth t-shirt on - I felt very collegiate. Two folks in our group were in corral 9, the last one, so we all decided to start there instead of our assigned corrals. Robyn wasn't even in our wave - she qualified for Wave 2. As we approached 10:40 the crowd slowly moved forward. The atmosphere was light, but there was certainly an undercurrent of tension. Most of the people that far back either hadn't run a marathon ever or hadn't run Boston. Expectations seemed low, but uncertainty was high. Just after 10:40 the lead runners started and it took us 4-5 minutes to reach the starting line. We broke into a trot and then started running at our target pace. The marathon was on!
Robyn and I settle in side-by-side, with periodic arcs around and between slower runners, or as we parted to let faster runners by. We quickly lost sight of Clai and Anne, leaving just us two. I checked my pace to make sure I wasn't going out too fast on the downhills and was happy to see that we were keeping to the 9:30 target. Except for the very first drop, the downhills aren't drastic so it's easy to start out too fast. It was amusing to see runners headed off into the woods in the first mile or two to take a leak even though I figured I'd be doing the same eventually. It took two miles or so before it really dawned on me that I was running the marathon. Woo hoo!
The first water stop was at mile 3, and Robyn said she's get water for me - just keep running. We did that for the first 10 or 12 miles but after that I just got my own water/Gatorade. She was doing a fantastic job keeping me focused on pace and not getting overwhelmed. Having someone there to chat with, point out the costumes or the interesting spectators made the time go by quicker. I remember the woman with the sign that read "Drunk (again)" who most certainly was. The Eiffel Tower replica was impressive. We had settled in with people who were all running about the same pace, so we'd see them on and off for the next 4 hours. There was a guy in front of us for most of the race who must have had "Dave" on his shirt as people were cheering "DAVE!" a lot. My Dartmouth shirt got a lot of "Go Dartmouth" and "Yay Big Green" along the way, to Robyn's amazement.
As we approached Wellseley College just past mile 12 I could hear the Scream Tunnel, and it lived up to its reputation. A half-mile of screaming college co-eds eager to kiss anyone going by with a bib number is quite the sight. I chose not to engage them but I enjoyed the Dartmouth cheers and reading some of the imaginative signs. Soon after that was halfway point and I realized that I wasn't going to have a great performance. I could feel the beginning of some cramping in my calves but didn't want to stop and stretch as long as I could keep up the pace, now around 10:00. I spotted a co-worker in the crowd, the first familiar face I'd seen on the course, and that buoyed my spirits.
All along the way, Robyn was the best running companion a first time marathoner could ask for. Even though I'd run the course, she knew it far better, kept and eye on the clock, and distracted me when it was clear I was hurting. After hitting Mile 16 I said I needed to walk for a minute while taking my water to give my calves a rest. That would pretty much be the pattern for the rest of the race, sometimes I'd walk for 30 seconds, other times for up to 2 minutes. Robyn was always there keeping an eye on the clock and supporting me when I started running again. She had a great look on her face that seemed to say "I know you feel that you need a break right now, but it'll all feel better once you finish. Now get moving!" At least that's how I interpreted it.
At mile 17, just before the hills, I grabbed some Gu from the tables set up on the route and they helped a bit. Just before the firestation I spotted Jeff in the crowd by his house and he took some nice photos of me and Robyn and ran with us for a short bit. Just as we made the turn onto Comm Ave we passed a troop of soldiers with full packs and we pretended all the cheering was for us. The turn at the fire station is a major milestone; it signals the start of the hills. I'd run these hills a dozen times but never with my legs feeling quite like this. Running in the main street instead of the carriage way was new, but the hills remain the same. At one point I needed to stop and stretch my calves, this was my only true stopped point on the marathon. All other times I kept moving. Soon after that I was passed by a guy running in a business suit.
Getting to the top of the hills at BC felt great, and the downhill stretch was good for my calves. It was not so great for my quads but they're big, they can take it. Robyn chose this point to tell me that this was the longest in terms of time she had ever run. That's a motivator for you. We turned at Coolidge Corner and cruised up Beacon. Robyn pointed out the Pru which is essentially the finish line - it really didn't look that far away. Amazingly I saw a few friends in the crowds, or more accurately they saw me and got my attention. On we went past Washington Square, the Citgo sign was almost close enough to touch. I was looking for Monica and Bob and Geri now, somewhere along the left side of the course. But I made it all the way to St Mary's without seeing them and thought for a second that I had missed them somehow. But just before the bridge over the Pike there they were! I got a hug and a kiss for my troubles, and was now ready for the final stretch. (Oh, the Red Sox won!) Past the Citgo sign, onto Comm Ave, under the overpass and looking for Hereford.
As we made the turn onto Hereford Robyn went into full coaching mode. "See that? It's Boylston, the last turn on the course. Now, two more stop lights and the finish line. Just look at the finish line and it'll be over soon!" I listened to the cheering crowds as well but Robyn's voice was much more motivating. I managed to spot Bobby who was working a detail near the finish line but that was all the energy I had. 100 more feet. 50 feet. I'm there; hands up and look at the camera! Can I stop running now?
We slowed down and stopped. That felt good. My feet were swollen and hurting but no sharp pains. My calves were still cramping but I could walk no problem. My quads had started to hurt a bit but they're just babies; suck it up. Other than that I felt pretty good. We got our water, Gatorade, then our medals, mylar blanket and food bag. I ate the salty stuff, drank as many fluids as I could, and kept walking slowly. Robyn called her husband and arranged to meet at the Mass Ave bridge for a ride home; she was planning on just walking back to Cambridge but I thought this was a better deal. We hugged and said goodbye; I'll always remember and try to repay the gift she gave me that day. I think chocolate might be a good down payment.
The walk to the meeting area was slow and painful, my feet were quite swollen. Soon after arriving there Monica arrived, out of breath from running all the way to the finish through the crowds. She had my Crocs which felt SO GOOD on my feet. I changed into my sweats and put on a jacket (making sure that medal was on the outside) and started a slow shuffle to the Park St T stop. After my experience at Disney in January, I admit it was extremely gratifying to walk through the Common with a Boston Marathon medal around my neck and exchange knowing looks with other finishers and accept the congratulations from others. It was just now beginning to sink in that I'd run a marathon.
The walk from Harvard Square to my house went surprisingly easy, and while not skipping along I had some life in my legs. The next day I was pretty sore and spent most of it around the house but by Friday I was able to go for a run again. Except for the cramping and sore feet (and I'll probably lose a toenail) I thoroughly enjoyed my first marathon. I think that by using the word "first" I'm acknowledging that I will be running another one someday, maybe even this fall. I spoke to my brother and we're making tentative plans to run a fall marathon together this year. I know I have it in myself to run faster, and more importantly to me, run better.
I think I've answered the question. I'm a runner.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Right on Hereford, Left on Boylston
Two weeks from the time I’m writing these words I’ll be running the 2011 Boston Marathon. Guessing at my pace, I’ll be somewhere around mile 10 I hope, cruising through Natick among the throngs, keeping my ears open for the Scream Tunnel. Two weeks ago I ran the longest of the long runs, 21 miles from the start line to Boston College just past Heartbreak Hill. This past Saturday I wanted to run the remaining part of the course, most of which I’d never run. I started at CRI on a steadily warming morning and headed up the hill to BC. At the junction with the marathon course I saw other runners who were part of the training runs set up by running clubs and volunteer groups, but I was solo that day. Not to worry, as the weather was great and I had enough water and fuel.
I followed the course up to the Reservoir and then turned onto Beacon Street which I’d never run before. The scene is very familiar since I’d driven it many times but it’s quite a bit different on the sidewalk. Groups of runners headed out passed by, each of them going over their race prep in their heads, or at least that’s what I imagined them doing. I saw lots of landmarks that I knew in other contexts but they were comforting to see. As I approached Coolidge Corner I remembered watching the marathon there may years ago. I looked up casually and spotted the Citgo Sign, an important sighting for any marathoner. I’d never quite seen it like that before.
Onward, inbound, with the Mass Pike in sight and then past, and the turn on Comm Ave. I know this area very well from Red Sox games but it looks different without thousands of baseball fans on game day. Seeing it on Marathon Monday should add more layers to my image of the area. For some reason I thought it was much further from here to the end of the course, but it’s really only a mile or so. I started looking at street signs and all of a sudden there was Hereford! But I didn’t turn right, I am saving that for the race. Instead I went a few blocks further and turned there, looping back on Boylston past the finish line, past Hereford again, and looped back onto the course the opposite direction.
The rest of the run was anti-climactic after completing the trek to the finish line, but I enjoyed running the opposite direction on Beacon. I took off my wind shell and rolled up my sleeves in the warm spring sun as I climbed back to BC, then dropped down to the river. I even had enough in the tank for some speed work for a mile or two, which felt good. At the boathouse I did one lap to make sure I hit 13.1 miles – 2:07, not bad for my last training run.
Now I get to taper for real. A few easy runs each week, my last one scheduled for next Wednesday. At this point I almost want to get it over with but I'll work to enjoy every minute between now and the race. I'm looking forward to not having a long run each weekend and catching up on my spring skiing. But I know I'll miss it, hopefully by Fall. At the marathon Expo I'll be keeping my eye out for a nice fall marathon to sign up for.
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