April 18: Race Day, the 115th running of the oldest annual marathon in the world, the Boston Marathon

“Never again...and this time I mean it!” Those were the first words when I found Lisa, my ‘road crew’, in the family and friends meeting area. My legs were numb, my feet hurt, I pretty much felt spent yet looking around, I seemed to be doing rather well. I’d finished and didn’t need a wheelchair or medical attention; I was still standing! Seemed I’d survived the ordeal, one that seemed like such a great idea 16 weeks ago but what my body was telling me now was a whole lot of self-inflicted pain!

It was nearly 2pm April 18 and there we stood in downtown Boston: was it really over? It had been a long day that had started nine hours earlier across the river in Cambridge, home of Harvard University. It seems that Boston is really two marathons: the pre-race tribulations and then the actual run. Strangely enough, the run was significantly shorter in duration. Also strangely enough, or perhaps not strangely considering the challenge of a marathon, the only thing that had more ups and downs than this course were my emotions for the day.

Rather early on Monday, I didn’t need an alarm for 05h00 a.m. as the doors closing in the hallway signalled that runners were up and heading down for breakfast. By 05h30, I was down in the lobby fuelling myself for the race; some eggs, porridge with yogurt, toast and P.B. with banana, all washed down with water and half cup of coffee. We piled into the car with my pre-packed race day bag and across into city, the only saving grace about the time of day being there were very few of the kamikaze taxi drivers on the road. (Really liked Boston and will return for visit recognizing the worse aspects we experienced were the obnoxious drivers and horrible roads.)

6am...smiling before the lines begin

Line to catch the bus

By 6h00, I was dropped off at Boston Common and merging with the long lines of runners queuing for the fleet of school buses that would deliver us to Hopkinton, the start of the race. The wind was brisk and decidedly chilly, despite the layers I had on, and even though a well practiced system, it did take a cold 30 minutes to get on to a bus. Grateful for the warmth, I settled into the seat and was joined by Dimitri, a twenty something Belorussian from Washington looking to run around 3 hours. We shared training stories that passed the time but the 45 minute journey and distraction of conversation did little to assuage the trepidation of distance: dang, 26 miles, or if you prefer, 42 km, is a long way in a school bus, let alone on foot!

We were conveniently disgorged from the bus in a school parking lot, a lot thoroughly enhanced by the presence of numerous ‘port-a-potties’. As much as I had no desire to get into another line, the practical implications of hydrating won the day and there I was standing in line for another 20 minutes. Off to the athlete’s village behind the school, I soon came to realize I needed to find a sheltered spot as the massive marquee, simply a canvas roof, afforded little if any protection from the wind whistling over the groups huddled under blankets or lined up for bagels, bananas and Gatorade. I retreated to the south side of school and squeezed in between others leaning against the school wall and absorbing what heat we could from the sun, like old lizards who found themselves out too early in the morning to warm their blood to a comfortable level. Pulling on the extra shirts I’d brought and tucking my sweat pants into the top of my socks, I quelled my shivering and started eating again – couple of hard boiled eggs, an energy bar and some liquids. At least I wouldn’t go hungry!

Race village

A day of lines

Staying warm before the race

After chatting to my “neighbours”, all three close to me happened to be other Canadians, I settled in with my thoughts and reflections. Training in all kinds of weather and conditions in at least a dozen different cities in six countries on three continents and it came down to this day, a breezy but soon to be warm spring day in New England. Although the same course for all of us, each journey along that road would be unique for the one travelling it; shared experiences but distinctive perspectives: I was to be just one of the 27,000 plus stories and reasons for running this exact marathon on this particular day. Of course at the time, sitting their freezing, I was far less philosophical and simply wondered if indeed I’d ‘gone off the twist’?!

At 9h00 I stood up and did the last ministrations: sorted shirt after putting on ‘nip guards’ (if you don’t know, don’t ask), realized I’d forgotten sunscreen, removed sweats, put on shades, packed up extra gear into bag to leave on bus hauling ear back to city and tied up shoes with double knot, just in case.

Another line-up or two and then at 9h20, walked the km or so to the start with the other 9000 runners in the “first wave”. It felt good just to get moving to warm up. Although the run 42.2 km in length, just over 26 miles, and with moments on that road that seemed interminable, the race also passed by in a blur....

...last minute advice from veteran of race ...”go slow at start, save legs on the downhill”...runners pulling off extra clothes...nervous chatter all around...American anthem, crowd surges forward, huge cheer and we’re off...over 3 minutes to get to start line....that is definitely a downhill....going too fast a pace, slow down....two miles in, it’s warm, pull off long-sleeve shirt and throw away...too fast still....3 miles and less than 22 minutes, should be around 23 minutes or even 26 if I listened to veteran...is that a group of bikers sitting on fence, dozens of them...high fiving little kids...quaint countryside, small town USA...road packed with runners, stretching ahead into the distance...slow down, you won’t last...wow, 10km and feeling good, this could be a great race if I don’t blow up...still lots of downhill, quick pace...take in some water, grab an orange slice from little kid holding it out as an offering...chat with a couple runners about projected times....way too fast...20km and going steady...feet start to hurt (what? I never get blisters)...what’s with the socks...half way and I think I’m faster than I was in Chicago in ’09 when ran a 3hr12min....whoa, this is fast...committed now, go for it and see how long I can hold on...did I just drop my gel?...hey Jarvis, you in for a 3hr10min time, stick with us guys from Minnesota...fun group, solid pacer...hang in...no, too fast lads, take her home, I gotta slow...25km and legs feeling dead...Newton hills ahead...get to gel station for energy boost...made 30km but now I’m bargaining with myself....walk, take it easy – no, I trained for this....guy collapsed on ground, is that blood on his forehead?...crowd yelling my name all the time, a ‘Go Jarvis’ chant starts...was putting my name on shirt such a good idea?!... kiss on the cheek of physics major as laugh, best sign among Wellesley college girls lining course...wow, are they loud...hill doesn’t look as steep as it feels...are those cheerleaders...good lord my quads are toast...second part to heartbreak hill or what?!...now it’s serious bargaining; mile water station to mile water station for fluids and short walk...was that a giant mouse that just passed me...oh my, downhill hurts even worst...just get to next mile marker...guy screaming at me that “I look great, you got this man” and I’m thinking, let me be...keep ticking off mile markers...is that only 24 miles... walk it in if you have to, what do you have to prove....no, run a little bit, just don’t repeat 2000 and destroy yourself...Fenway, bet ya’ it’s more fun at the ball game...an underpass, you kidding...walk of shame for a minute, need to find strength in legs...turn corner to finish line....looks so far...one step at a time...casualties everywhere, runners seizing up so close to end...oblivious...there, the line...whew, finally done....fluids, space blanket, finishers medal, lunch bag, snacks and handouts, gear at luggage bus...a day of line-ups!!

Post race refueling station

What a day, I vacillated between “this is amazing” to “I’m losing the will to live”. All-in-all a 3h23min run not so bad on that course when my target time was 3:20. Of course, I wish I had been done at the 30km mark as the last several km became all about survival and not much fun! As for the slow finish after fast start, it was two things: a lot of suffering in the last 12K and a lot of pulling back to avoid further suffering with the last 2km plain ugly!
I knew at around 25km when I was on a 3h11min finishing time I was in trouble, even though I felt relatively good except for my quads that started to feel 'shredded'. The course way hillier than I thought it would be and the fast downhill’s early on exacted a toll I could not pay after 30km. It was a tough run but the beer tasted rather good at dinner that night!

Of course, the race apparently not so tough for some -- a 2h3'02" world best time on this course quite inconceivable yet there it was, a record day!

Tired puppy

Overall, after eating plenty, resting some, I was pleased: I’d qualified for next year (as if I'll go??) and considering the training schedule with travel and brutal winter weather, it was respectable enough. And best of all, we raised over $10,000 for sport programs for Canadians with a disability. Maybe I’ll go out and meet some of the new athletes and advise them on what to try, likely not marathon racing!

Then again, if I change this and tweak that, add this to my training, change my running program....hmmmm, never say never!