Only Boston?

Days before the Boston marathon, a global Boston-based shoe company launched a media campaign featuring the tag-line "Nobody Runs Like Boston". Another catchy tag-line was "Only Boston Makes You Train With Three Feet", alluding to last winter's

historic snowfall. "Only in Boston Do A Million People Take The Day Off So 30,000 Can Work", went another one. Runners flocking to Boston for the marathon were greeted by these ads at stations and bush shelters throughout the city.

The campaign perpetuates a vision of Boston as the breeding ground of a unique athletic event, the Boston marathon. But is this vision realistic? Is the Boston marathon really unique, when compared to other marathons? I was among the 26,610 who ran (and finished) the Boston marathon this year -- I was running it for the fifth time -- and I decided to give some thought to this question.

Let's start from the facts. For many seasoned runners the Boston marathon is a bucket-list marathon. For one thing, the first Boston marathon was held in 1897, making it the world's oldest annual marathon. This is also the first marathon that established strict qualifying standards for registering to run: among runners achieving a coveted Boston qualifier (BQ) is the highest distinction - short of winning a marathon. These alone are pretty extraordinary facts. But how could one talk of

Boston without thinking of its tremendously challenging marathon course and the notorious Newton Hills, which culminate in the mother of all hills, Heartbreak Hill? And also, has anyone ever heard of another marathon run on a Monday? All these elements contribute to creating an aura of sacred, to the point that the horrendous events of 2013 were not just sad and tragic, they were viciously sacrilegious.

This year, I arrived in Boston, as I always do, the Sunday before race day, excited to be back, but on the look-out for a hint - any hint - at some profound reason why anybody should regard Boston as a unique sport event. As I disembarked from the plane, took the T and reached the Hynes Convention Center in downtown Boston to pick up my bib, a familiar scene appeared before my eyes: the whole city was bustling with thousands of marathoners, mostly taking great pride in wearing their purple jackets (yes, this year's color, officially known as "night flash", was a combination of purple, grey and orange).

During my pilgrimage to the finish line, packed with marathoners, I ran into a family of tourists from India with their baby in a stroller, amused at the scene of this crowd of ecstatic runners around them, and when I proposed to exchange photo shoots on the finish line, they eagerly accepted. Then, after the customary pasta dinner with two marathoner friends from New York (this year I skipped the official pasta party at the city hall for a tastier dinner at a Back Bay Italian restaurant - again filled with marathoners), I retired into my hotel room to get some rest and a good night's sleep.

To put things in context, I am a competitive, sub-3, addicted marathoner. I qualify for Boston every year without major difficulty, but I consider the course so adverse that I usually think it ten times before re-registering the next year. Anyway, here I am again, in the 2015 edition. I know it is a hard-fought privilege to be here, and many friends back home are looking at me with a mix of envy and admiration. Here I am, worried about the weather forecast - with conditions expected to be rainy and windy, and temperatures in the mid-40s - and, in addition, with the remnants of an injury that is still haunting me. Here I am, totally absorbed with a new existential question: why am I here? Is Boston such a unique experience after all?

To me, there is definitely one thing that sets Boston apart: because it is filled through qualifying, the concentration of fast runners is astounding. Where else would a runner with a qualifying time of more than 3:10 be relegated to a second-wave start? Statistics speak clear: in 2015, as it turned out, as many as 49% of the Boston runners attained a BQ and can register for Boston in 2016, if they so wish. Boston is the marathon with the highest percentage of marathoners who re-qualify for Boston. It is a humbling experience to be surrounded by so many strong athletes, and at the same time there is something exhilarating in knowing one belongs in this selective circle.

So, is this the answer? Does Boston only feel special because it strokes our ego? Heck no!

40 minutes into my running, it starts drizzling. I think how lucky I am to have started in the first wave and to have stayed dry that long. I have been running for one hour or so when the drizzle turns into a full shower, and the shower into a downpour. The heavy rain is on and off. Between the start and the finish I count three, maybe four showers. Yet I go on, struggling with a cold headwind, my shoes wet but not yet drenched. And as I keep going, the truth finally dawns on me. The people lining the streets through the course, the Wellesley students screaming and offering kisses, even the police cheering on the runners, are really a special breed. This thought brings me back to my happy years as a young student in Boston. It is hard to imagine people more devoted to their city's glorious marathon, more overjoyed with taking part in this celebration of life. 

I cross the finish line at 3:11:42. I am thrilled, even if this is far from my PR and not even my Boston PR. I am soaked, and my body has suddenly stopped producing heat. I proudly collect my medal from a smiling woman, pick up my goody bag and snacks from more volunteers, while another gracious woman swiftly wraps me in a poncho. Within minutes, in spite of the poncho, I start shivering. One volunteer opens my protein drink, another one goes out of her way to take out my miraculously dry hat from under my belt, and helps me put it on my head. Still shivering, I sneak into a medical tent to seek warmth. 

Three medics offer seats and assistance to the shivering runners, and one of them brings me a towel and a "heatsheet", while a policeman walks around pouring hot coffee to us. I stay there for a few minutes, confused and uncertain what to do, until, on the suggestion of a medical volunteer, I step across the street into the John Hancock building, where I manage to warm up, get a warm broth, relax and get a recovery massage, treated and pampered by an array of courteous volunteers! I think I may have finally discovered what I had been looking for. All the volunteers I have come across, a tiny sample of the army of 9,000 volunteers deployed across the city, are disarmingly cheerful, energetic and naturally effective! They are truly unique, and deserve a special tribute.

As I shower and get changed to fly back to New York, and I think of all the special things I have experienced and all the amazing people I have met in the past 24 hours in Boston, I feel overwhelmed. Yes, they are what makes this event so special!

That's right. "Nobody Runs Like Boston". And who knows, I may run Boston again, next year.

-Francesco P

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WHEN PIGS FLY

Stephanie T

Two weeks ago, I ran the 2015 Flying Pig Marathon in Cincinnati, OH in 3:48:03, my 17^th marathon-plus! 

Although the marathon was not a PR, it ranked as one of the most special marathons, as it was my first postpartum.

 2015 Flying Pig Marathon Finish with Pei M, Ray T and Tran L

NEW TRAINING APPROACH AND EXPECTATIONS

I had trained well all season, which I was proud of, despite the fact that my daughter Keira was still only 9 months old. In fact, it was the first time ever that I had followed and executed a training plan so closely. I appreciated the science behind the Run SMART program and Coach Brian Rosetti’s extremely personalized and hands-on approach to coaching.

It was also my first postpartum marathon, and I am still breastfeeding. Instead of making time for group runs either before or after work, I had purchased a backpack that I ran with to go home from work two or three days a week with my breast milk, laptop and other items in tow. On Wednesdays, I would rush home to Brooklyn immediately after work so I could spend time with Keira before rushing back out to Central Park for the New York Flyers’ Marathon Training Program (MTP). On weekends, I would either get in a long run while my husband and fellow Flyer Ray watched our daughter, or we would go out for a run together with our running stroller.

Given the fact that I had run through my entire pregnancy, including a marathon and three half marathons, and I had read about a number of women running faster postpartum, including Liza Howard who won the Umstead-100 Mile despite stopping three times to pump on the course, and had given birth just six months prior, I had positive expectations about how the season would turn out. I believed that my expectations were valid, as I ran a 46:30 at the Scotland Run 10K in April, shaving 25 seconds from a my previous best time from 2011, and ran really strong all season long.

2014 Delaware Marathon at 7.5 Months Pregnant!

LEADING UP TO THE RACE

Ray and I left Keira with his parents for the weekend, our first time away from her overnight, and flew into Cincinnati, OH two days before the marathon. We dropped off all our belongings at the hotel, visited the race expo, which was next door to our hotel, and strolled through town before having dinner at Boca, a beautiful Italian restaurant I had made reservations for weeks ago. It was the first time we’d had dinner without Keira.

The next day, we met with fellow Flyers Pei M and Tran L for a 20-minute long easy run along the waterfront, returned to the expo with them and walked to Findlay Market, a local market with fresh and prepared foods, for lunch where Flyer Leslie L and his fiancé Noel C joined us. We enjoyed freshly made pasta, and picked up a few items for breakfast the next day. Ray and I returned to our hotel room to rest, as it had been a hot day so far and we had walked more than we had planned. The warm weather made me worry about race day, as I don’t run very well in warm weather, generally. We reconnected with everyone for an early dinner at Via Vita, an Italian restaurant near our hotel. After suffering from food poisoning the night before two marathons in the past, the 2011 Paris and 2013 Big Sur, I now always make sure to eat fully cooked, hot foods for two straight days before marathons, and kept it quite “vanilla” that evening–I had lasagna Bolognese and a side of roasted Brussel sprouts. We returned to our hotel early, and went to bed immediately.

Dinner with Fellow Flyers at Via Vite

RACE DAY PLAN

Brian had instructed me to run the first half of the race at an 8:18-20 pace. At mile 18, if I felt strong, I could pick up the pace. My projected finish time was 3:38.

Pei and Tran had planned to start slower than they had initially planned, so I considered doing the same. The temperature was going to climb to 80 degrees, and the Flying Pig was known for its tough hills on the first half of the course.

Miles 1-6 (8:22, 8:22, 8:22, 8:07, 8:21, 8:19).

We all took a group photo, Ray and I gave each other a kiss, and we wished each other good luck before the start of the race. Pei, Ray and Tran were all in the same corral as me, while Leslie was in front of us. Tran and Ray immediately headed out in front of me, and I was aware that Pei was behind me. I monitored my pace closely, aware that I typically run with a pace group, and tend to run too fast at the start of races. It typically takes at least six miles before I start to find my rhythm during a marathon, but felt strong during the start of this one. However, at around mile 4, I heard my name called, and turned around to see Tran behind me. I replied, “Hey! Oh no! I’m running too fast!” as Tran is faster than me, and I shouldn have been behind her!

Miles 5-13 (8:21, 8:19, 9:03, 8:22, 8:11, 8:26, 7:44, 8:16, 8:22).

The major uphill started around mile 5.5, and it was much more challenging than I had anticipated. I realized that I had slowed during mile 7, and despite the continued incline, and Tran exclaiming, “I’m not making up the time on the uphill,” I started to speed up shortly after. I was back on track to finish at my projected time by mile 9.

Miles 14-22 (8:24, 8:19, 8:25, 8:20, 8:38, 8:19, 8:25, 8:20, 8:38, 8:58, 9:21, 9:22, 9:43)

The hills, which were only second to the hills I encountered at Big Sur, increasing heat and constant adjustments I had made to my pace were all taking a toll on me. At mile 14, Pei had caught up to Tran and me, and we ran together for a few miles. At mile 18, however, at another incline, Pei continued running a strong pace, and I slowed down, unable to maintain my pace. At mile 20 or so, Tran passed me too, as I continued to fade.

Mile 23-26.2

I stopped checking my pace by mile 23. I saw the 3:45 pace group come from behind me at mile 24, and stuck with them for a mile before they passed me as well. I kept my legs moving, nevertheless, until I saw the finish line, and in front of me were Ray, Pei and Tran cheering me on! Ray draped the medal around my neck, and greeted me with another kiss. I was in awe that Ray had finished 12 minutes before I did, even though he hadn’t trained for this marathon at all, and we had all half expected to pass him on the course. I finished having given the marathon my all, but I was truly beat up. To serve as an example, I ran the last mile at 10:04.

 Keira and Me After Pacing the 2:00 Group for the 

2015 More/Fitness Magazine Half Marathon!

The Flying Pig Marathon certainly wasn’t my fastest marathon—it was actually my third fastest. However, it was my first since having my daughter Keira. I’m proud of all the hard work I put into training. And I’m ready to train for the next marathon.

-Stephanie T.

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To Be Yourself in a World That is Constantly Trying to Make You Something Else is the Greatest Accomplishment.

Beth D

At some point while training for Olympic distance triathlons I realized that training the swim and bike, for me, had become more work than enjoyment.  And since running had been my triathlon strength it seemed to make sense to switch over to long distance running and hang up my goggles and helmet for good.  Although I do not particularly “love” running I love the structure and focus that it brings to my life.  In addition to making my body stronger, training and racing usually carries itself over to feeling confident about life in general.  

That being said I have finished races where, after running an eleven-minute mile pace, I felt I could move mountains (or at least climb them) and also finished races at a sub seven-minute mile pace riddled with self doubt and insecurity.  At the end of the day whether it is a seven-minute mile, an eleven-minute one or a sixteen-minute -- it is still a mile.  

I knew from the triathlon world that the New York Flyers had a reputation for being warm, friendly and accepting of runners – regardless of pace – so when I was looking for a team that trained in Central Park in a supportive and friendly atmosphere I knew that the Flyers were going to accept me regardless of where I was in my running journey. 

That's Me, Far Left!

While still training for triathlons I was a part of the high intensity Full Throttle Endurance Triathlon Team at Chelsea Piers.  During my first Full Throttle Endurance (FTE) indoor “mock race,” after all of the other athletes had already crossed the finish line, showered and dressed and were well on their way to heading out the door and off to work, I was still counting laps on the track.  Because my coach prior to joining FTE had told me that doing well in endurance sports was all a reward for honesty and integrity I made sure I fully finished every single lap in the pool and the track even if it meant I finished dead last in the race.  It was just me -- the very last athlete to finish the race by more than fifteen minutes -- pounding out every last lap at the indoor track at Chelsea Piers while Head Coach Scott Berlinger stood at the side of the track with his stopwatch when he looked me coolly in the eyes and said “You better not be running this slow in the regular race.”

From that morning on I started to actually do the things that every other prior coach had told me to make me run faster.  And, this time – on this team, I actually started to do the things that this coach was saying to do to make me run faster.  Because we were running indoors on an indoor track and outside along the Hudson, FTE coaches said that when we did our long run on the weekends (“homework”) that we had to make sure to incorporate hills.  And also because other triathlete friends had showed me how much faster running trails makes you when you go back to concrete I started to alternate my long run in the dead of winter every week – hills, trails, hills, trails, hills and trails and more trails.  In attempt to become a faster runner I never repeated the same hill or the same trail in one month – including traveling as far as two hours away by bus in the dead of winter to ensure I stayed in my hill/trail rotation.  While in the city toward the middle/end of my long run I would frequently do as many as nine hill repeats on Harlem Hill because I wanted so badly to catch up to the super fit athletes on my triathlon team. 

Sometime at the beginning of the training season with this super fit team FTE coaches had said, “If you aren’t doing your long run –– it’s going to show.”  I still have a lot of self-discovery (including the possibility of eventually using a heart rate monitor or a Garmin) to do when it comes to becoming a fitter/faster/leaner runner, but for the time being I am happy with my goal of keeping up my streak of never having missed a long run during this long treacherous winter and I am hoping that by end of the 2015 season that it will show :) 

-Beth D.

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26th Annual Bataan Memorial Death March

Howard C

The Bataan Memorial Death March is more of an event than a race. It honors the fallen soldiers and survivors of the infamous Bataan Death March, which occurred in the Philippines during World War II. The Philippines was a U.S. protectorate at the time. After months of battle and surviving on dwindling supplies, the U.S. and Filipino forces there surrendered to Japan in April 1942. Tens of thousands of soldiers were forced to march about 65 miles from the southern Bataan peninsula to prisoner of war camps further north. Over the course of several days, they marched under grueling hot jungle conditions with minimal to no food or water. Thousands died during the forced march.

A large contingent of the U.S. armed forces defending the Philippines at the time happened to be from New Mexico. In 1989, the Army ROTC at New Mexico State University began sponsoring a march to memorialize the event. In 1992, the New Mexico National Guard joined as a sponsor and the march moved to the White Sands Missile Range, an active military base. The event has been occurring there annually since then. This year was the 26^th Annual Bataan Memorial Death March. While it is still a military-dominated event, it has gained a positive reputation in civilian marathon running circles as well. For someone like me, who has a goal of running a marathon in each of the 50 states, it was penciled in as my first choice for New Mexico. So when I got an email last fall from my running friend Nancy about trying to put a group together for doing this race in March 2015, I jumped on it. In the end, five of us decided to do this trip, all from the New York City area. Each of us registered in the “civilian” (vs. military), “light” (vs. “heavy”) and “individual” (vs. team) category.  We were “civilian” because you have to possess a military ID in order to enter in the military category. “Military” have to wear their full service uniform including boots for the march. “Heavy” means that you have to carry a 35 lbs. pack for the whole march, excluding water. Teams consist of five people, who must all finish within 20 seconds of each other. Teams are not allowed to abandon any members. Besides the marathon distance, there is an “honorary” distance, which is 14.2 miles.

Photo from http://www.bataanmarch.com/

The five of us arrived in El Paso International Airport, which is the nearest large airport, on Saturday (March 21, 2015), the day before the race. We drove for about an hour from the airport to a villa we rented out in Las Cruces, NM, which is the second largest city in New Mexico, and the nearest “big” city to the race course. After dropping off our luggage, we drove for another 30 minutes or so to the race expo at the White Sands Missile Range. This was also where the start line of the race was going to be, so the trip to the expo was helpful in learning the route we take on race day. We picked up our bibs, t-shirts, participant certificates and dog tag (finisher’s) medals without any problems. It was already pretty late in the day and the expo was clearly winding down. There had been survivors of the actual Bataan Death March in 1942 present at the expo earlier in the day, but they were long gone.

After taking care of business at the expo, we took a little time to explore the base. Outside of the expo area, there were numerous tents and campers set up on the grass, where some participants were staying overnight. There were military barracks nearby that were available for rent as well. We visited “Missile Park,” which is an outdoor museum for historic missiles tested at the base. Some of the missiles were the size of airplanes. White Sands Missile Range is actually a very historic site. This is where the super secret Manhattan Project (primarily based in nearby Los Alamos, NM) detonated Trinity, the world’s first atomic bomb. Besides the Missile Park, however, there didn’t seem to be a whole lot else available for civilians to see. This is an active military base (where, among other things, real missiles are still being tested regularly), so you can’t exactly just wander around unless you are unafraid of becoming missile fodder. As you can imagine, this base is in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

After visiting the base, we had a carbo-loading pasta dinner in Las Cruces and then went back to the villa for an early end to the evening. After long flights and a few hours in a desert climate, everyone was very tired and very dehydrated. I set my alarms and crashed quickly and hard.

In the early morning of race day (Sunday, March 22, 2015), the temperature was in the upper 30’s to low 40’s F. But it actually felt colder. One thing about deserts is that they can get quite cold overnight. I’ll never forget a hike I once did in a desert a while back where I saw patches of frosty snow on the sand in the morning, only for the temperatures to rise into the 90s later in the day, under a scorching hot sun. New Mexico, in addition, is mostly at elevation and thus has a much more temperate climate than you might expect. Although the temperatures were expected to go into the mid to upper 70’s later on race day, everyone was basically dressed for the winter that morning.

            

There was a mandatory opening ceremony that started at 6:35 AM. The March is clearly a very significant event in New Mexico. The two U.S. senators for New Mexico were there, as was the Philippines Ambassador to the U.S. There was a Black Hawk helicopter flyover. There were three actual Bataan Death March survivors who were present for the ceremony. Each firmly gave a “here!” when their names were called during a roll call. After that, the names of the Bataan Death March survivors who had passed away since last year’s Memorial March were called out, only to be answered with silence. There were a lot of names whose calls went unanswered. A lot. I could hear soft crying in the crowd starting to build around me. There was not a dry eye in the house.

After the ceremony finished, the various corrals started moving to the start line, led first by the Wounded Warriors. Cannons went off as the various waves started the race. As I approached the start line, I saw the three actual Bataan Death March survivors sitting to the side of the road. They were greeting everyone and shaking hands with the marchers. I waited my turn and shook hands with each of these three survivors. It was very humbling.

The race was scheduled to start at 7:05 AM, on a rolling basis. I did not cross the start line until about 7:45 AM. The course was closing at 8 PM, so there was plenty of time. We were starting off in civilization, on asphalt roads near base headquarters, so it felt basically like the start of most small city road marathons, except for the many uniformed military personnel.

After a short while, we hit a coarse sand trail, but it was mostly flat and quite runnable. A few miles further in, the course opened up and you could see far into the desert. I stopped and took some pictures. I ran together with Nancy for a bit before she had to fall back. Our three other friends were much further ahead as they are much more talented runners.

At about mile 7 or so, the main hill of the course started. It lasted for about 10 km (6.2 miles) and had an average grade of 4% (400 m rise over 10 km run). I was still pretty fresh so it wasn’t horrible, but it was nonetheless one of the most prolonged, steady hills I had ever encountered in a race. It was essentially the equivalent of running up an incline similar to Central Park’s Harlem Hill or Cat Hill, for a distance of the entire big loop of Central Park. For reference, per the New York Cycle Club, Cat Hill is 0.25 miles long and has a 3.7% grade. Harlem Hill is 0.32 miles long and has a 4.4% grade. Plus, there is altitude to deal with. The beginning of the Bataan Memorial Death March hill is at ~4000 ft elevation and the highest point is at ~5400 feet. This altitude is not too bad if you are just walking, but you can definitely feel the difference if you try to run. I slowly jogged this uphill section, with plenty of walk breaks, especially for the steeper (8% or so grade) sections.

Elevation and distance in meters. The numbers along the course are the aid stations.  Photo from http://www.bataanmarch.com/

The top of the hill was about the halfway point of the course. I reached there at about 2 hours and 19 minutes. At this point, I knew the original 4 hours and 30 minutes finish goal I had casually guesstimated was no longer possible. With a lot of downhills to go, however, 4 hours and 45 minutes seemed realistic. Meanwhile, there were matters of more immediate interest. At the top of the hill, there was an aid station. The wind must have hit us perfectly, because a fellow runner and I could smell something good cooking. The other runner kept going, but I was drawn to the smell like a tractor beam. I found the source of the smell, and it was a grill where they were cooking burgers and hot dogs! I could not turn it down. I was actually their first customer and ordered a cheeseburger and potato chips. At $4 with all the toppings you wanted, how could I say no? I resumed the race, running downhill for the next two miles, refueling myself with small bites of the burger and chips. The runners around me were incredulous as they saw me running by them, burger and chips in hand. “Protein” and “sodium” I explained. In total there was about a 10 km downhill section, which I mostly ran at a decent (for me) clip (approximately 8:00 – 8:30 min/mi pace).

There were some incredible views of the expanse of the desert around us. At about the 18 mile mark, the route merged with an earlier part of the course, which had marchers who were going the other way. They were roughly at their 10 mile mark, in the middle of their long uphill climb. These folks were mostly military team marchers, dressed in full uniform and carrying heavy 35 lbs. packs. It was an impressive sight. I did my best to salute, wave or otherwise cheer them on. They were friendly and cheered back.

A team of soldiers.  Photo courtesy of Nancy O.

Between mile 20 and 21, we hit a fairly longish stretch of deep sand. This section was tough, especially at this stage of the race. My legs protested loudly. I had no choice but to mentally adjust my goal finish time further down. I decided that if I could break 5 hours, I would be very happy. (For reference, I think if I had run a standard sea-level road marathon, all else being equal, I would have run it in roughly 4 hours and 15 minutes or so that day.) Fortunately, the course footing eventually improved to a firmer sand, then back to asphalt for the final stretch to the finish line. I was elated and relieved when I finally crossed the line. Although I’ve run a fair number of marathons (The Bataan Memorial Death March was my 44^th marathon or ultramarathon), I never take finishing a race for granted. I’ve DNF’ed 3 times at marathons or ultras before. I was feeling tired, but great, and most importantly, I finished the run without any injuries. My primary race goal for the spring of 2015 is finishing the Comrades Marathon up run within the twelve hour time limit, and this race was superb training for that.

My official Bataan Memorial Death March time was 4:57:59 (11:22 overall pace), which was good enough for 78^th place out of 885 in the civilian male light individual category. Normally, I finish in the middle of the pack, or in the second half of the finishers, especially in travel races. The median finishing time in my category was roughly 7 hours and 50 minutes. Thus, most of the participants at this event were clearly walking. Nancy finished about an hour later after I did. The other three of our travel companions on the trip are super fast runners. Keila finished in 3:30:12 (which is just unfathomable to me, on that course). She won the women’s civilian light category! Benny finished in 3:40:47, which was good for 7^th in the civilian male light individual category. Brian H (a former New York Flyer) finished right behind him in 3:40:56, 8^th place in the category. Benny and Brian were also #1 and #2 for their age group respectively as well.

We celebrated afterwards at a local restaurant/institution called La Posta De Mesilla, consuming the usual crazy amounts of food a runner eats after a tough marathon. Later that afternoon, we did the tourist thing and saw most of the recommended sites in Las Cruces, NM, which mostly revolve around local legend Billy The Kid. That took less than an hour.

The Bataan Memorial Death March is a race I would definitely recommend. For anyone considering doing this race, I would recommend doing it as soon as possible, because there likely won’t be too many actual Bataan Death March survivors around soon given their ages. I would definitely consider repeating this race in the future, probably in the “heavy” division with a pack. Overall, it was an unforgettable and exceptional event, and it deserves a place on every runner’s bucket list.

-Howard C

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The Boston Marathon: A Revolutionary Experience

Karin A.

With the sudden crack of a gun the journey started, reminiscent of the first shots fired at Lexington and Concord that would lead to one of the greatest battles of all time for freedom and independence. The runners were off and there was no turning back.

“The Boston Marathon is an experience like no other race.” I continued to hear this up until race day. For me, it was hard to grasp until I experienced it first hand. This is the story of my first Boston Marathon; the people I met, the energy I felt, and my renewed determination to become a better runner.  

Boston is held on Patriots' Day, and it’s no accident. The American Revolution was a hard-fought battle with ups and downs, wins and losses. A ragtag group of citizens, disorganized and without military experience, picked up arms to go up against the mightiest military power in the world. They were on a quest for freedom, and in the process they built strength as a community and tested their limits of endurance. Great sacrifices were made, but in the end they prevailed.     

When I arrived in Boston on Saturday, it was clear that the city belonged to the runners that weekend. The streets were dotted with banners, and the runners were easily identifiable by their Boston garb. Mostly veteran runners, they proudly donned their colorful jackets corresponding to the year (or perhaps one of many) when they previously ran. It was a little intimidating to see so many fit athletes strolling confidently with their jackets, wearing them as well-earned badges of honor. As for myself, I had my purple 2015 jacket neatly tucked away in my suitcase with the tags still attached. I figured I hadn’t earned it yet, and while still nursing an injury from February, I was concerned whether I would finish the race at all.

RACE DAY

On race day morning, I was wandering around Boston Commons with countless other runners waiting to board the big yellow school buses that would drive us to the start in the town of Hopkinton. In and around the Commons, I could hear runners clickety-clacking about the route, the weather, and their times. The morning was unusually cool with the promise of rain and headwinds in the forecast, and runners puttered around in throwaway clothes trying to keep warm.

The BAA is extraordinarily organized, including everything from the pre-race newsletters to the hyper-detailed instructions on what to do before, during, and after the race. In preparation at Boston Commons, much of this organization was apparent; runners were gently directed to fill the buses early and often, and when it was time to head to the start, a fleet of yellow buses would take off one wave after another. It was an impressive sight.   

We arrived at Athletes' Village, which housed amenities for runners waiting their start times where they could indulge in last minute necessities; more potty breaks, extra carbs, and warm coffee to quell the shivers. When the wave was called, runners would walk nearly three-quarters of a mile to the start line. On the way, BAA volunteers offered pre-race waters and collected discard clothing. 

Volunteers Collecting Clothes

The local residents were already outside in the cool weather watching and supporting the runners as they approach the start line. A woman in her pajamas, swaddled in a blanket, waved warmly from her porch as she shouted words of admiration and encouragement to the lot of strangers walking past her home. 

As soon as I reached my corral it started to rain on cue, like the first note of a great symphony about to engage in a seemingly endless and magical musical journey. It was invigorating. The excitement of the race was palpable and the runners were ready.

THE RACE IS ON

Crack! The gun went off. So would start the 26.2-mile journey that we had been waiting for months or maybe even years to take. It was a mixture of exhilaration and the slow onset of wistfulness, in anticipation that in a few short hours it would be over.

The route is a series of gently rolling hills streaming like a ribbon through quaint towns. Locals lined the route to cheer on the runners as we made our way into Boston proper. From Hopkinton to Ashland to Framingham and onward, the borders from town to town were peppered with fun-loving rowdy early-morning drinkers and loud rock. At one point, we came across a small group of men cheering in front of church wearing denim and bright orange shirts, joined by more official-looking uniformed officers. A few of us runners commened quizzically that they looked like prisoners. 

As soon as we hit the 12-mile mark, we knew we were approaching the famous Wellesley girls and their Wall of Sound. Admittedly, I wasn’t looking forward to the overwhelming sound of screaming young ladies. You could definitely hear them at least a mile out. As soon as we hit the heart of Wellesley, it was a delight. The enthusiasm from the girls was infectious, and the vibration I felt throughout my body from the sound was elating.

Around mile 16, before the famous Newton hills, I saw a sign that read, "The Kenyans are drinking your beer." Needless to say, this gave me an extra boost to power over the dreaded hills. And those Newton hills weren’t so bad. In fact it was the smaller and seldom-mentioned mini hills after Heartbreak that were the real kicker. But it didn’t matter. I felt great and I was within reach of my goal (and on my way to earn my purple jacket!).

As you enter Boylston Street, the buildings get taller, the street gets wider, and wide-eyed crowd thickens with shouts of encouragement – “You got this!” – “You look great!” – “You’re almost there!” I felt cloaked in their cheers and roars as I raced ahead for the blue and yellow banner.   

POST-RACE REFLECTIONS

One of the most remarkable aspects of the race is the strong will of the runners. Many people I spoke to were aiming for times well under 4 hours and some even less than 3. But it wasn’t only about time. Victims of the 2013 bombings, including some of whom lost limbs, were there in a show of resilience and determination. There were also cancer survivors and people with severe physical disabilities who finished the race in triumph. It was awe-inspiring and moving.

At a post-race Sam Adams brewery tour, I met Bill Iffrig. Bill was knocked down by the blast in 2013 just 20 feet from the finish line. He was featured in what’s now an iconic photograph from the cover of Sports Illustrated, with him on the ground and three police officers coming to his rescue. 

Fortunately, Bill sustained only minor injuries, and in the midst of the smoke and chaos, he stood up and assessed himself and decided he was well enough to continue and cross the finish line. And he did. He was 78 years old. He ran again this year at the age of 80 and finished in 4:23:13.  

 

With Bill Iffrig

The day after the race, I strutted down the streets in Jamaica Plain in my well-earned purple jacket on my way to the famous Doyle’s Cafe for one last Sam Adams and a bowl of clam chowder. A man shouted congratulations from his car as he drove by, and a woman with four small kids did the same as we crossed paths on the sidewalk. I felt like a celebrity. Boston is a city with great pride, history, and strength, and this was tangible in all corners of this city of rebels. 

Back in NYC, it seemed as though spring had arrived in my absence as trees in all directions were blooming fiercely. The feelings of my brief stint as a celebrity were diluted and I went back to being just another runner in Central Park. But I put on my purple badge of honor and began to plot how I would work my way back to qualify for Boston. I reflected on the great runners that I met on my journey and took inspiration from the resilient souls that prevailed against the odds to run the Boston Marathon.

I want to say a special thanks to the many friends, family, fellow runners, and acquaintances that showed me an overwhelming amount of support; people that took time to say good luck and congratulations in the midst of busy schedules, personal struggles, and even family tragedies. Your selflessness and warmth will not soon be forgotten. 

-Karin A.   

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