It's all about the jacket.

 I've blogged before about my long journey to run the Boston Marathon.  For those who haven't already heard more than enough about the on again, off again saga these posts may be a good place to start: Every Second Counts and The Dream Is Over.  If you are up to speed already please get yourself comfortable for the next instalment!

I love Boston, it is a fabulous city, small and friendly.  We used to spend a lot of time over there with work - but in those days I wasn't a runner and the words 'Boston Marathon' meant nothing to me.  That changed when I started running, and the quest to qualify for this iconic race began.  I went from being comfortably below the cut off in 2020 (race cancelled)  to a 'squeaker' in 2021 - the same time, with a reduced field due to Covid, meant I was 1 second under the cut off - but we couldn't travel to the USA in October 2021 due to Covid restrictions.  I was 15 minutes under the qualifying time for 2022 (thanks to running London Marathon), a very comfortable margin in the year that allowed all those with a qualifying time run.  It looked like we were on our way at last.  It was nerve wracking taking the pre flight Covid tests.  It was still possible that everything could fall apart if a pesky second line appeared.  

We flew into Boston on Wednesday, travelling with friends, three of us running the marathon and two supporters.  It was wonderful to be flying again, fantastic to be back in Boston - especially as Wednesday afternoon was beautifully warm and sunny - so we wandered around the Public Gardens, Boston Common taking in the sights and grabbing a quick beer or two at the wonderful Democracy Brewing - we need to go back as we need to buy one of their beer glasses as a souvenir.  Thursday saw more mooching about, eating huge portions of food and half heartedly following the Freedom Trail, we were easily distracted by retail opportunities, and a trip to watch an ice hockey game in the evening.  Boston was clearly getting ready for the marathon.  A gantry had appeared across Boylston Street to mark the finish line and people were walking around in 'celebration jackets' from previous years.  There were lots of 'Are you here to run the marathon? Where are you from?' conversations with strangers in queues.  

And then, on Friday, the expo opened.  Runners and supporters began to arrive in force!  The queues were long, but moved quickly, I'd opted to sign up to the Unicorn Club (Boston Athletic Association considered me have run 'consecutive marathons' despite my previous two being virtual), which meant a separate bib collection and some extra goodies.  We played 'spot the jackets' trying to see find the oldest jacket.  I saw one for 1994,  which is the year we got married.  The TV news talked about the marathon, the bar tender talked about the marathon, we talked about the marathon and we bought so much merchandise that a new suitcase was deemed essential. 

Saturday is, of course, parkrun day.  When I'd first qualified for the 2020 marathon I'd volunteered to tail walk at Jamaica Pond parkrun and eventually I was going to get to do this too.  Jamaica Pond is gorgeous, the core team were friendly and coped well with the influx of marathon runners who swelled their numbers from around 100 to a US record attendance of 363!  We woke up on Sunday ready to run a marathon, but of course Boston Marathon is run on Patriots' Day which is a Monday.  It felt a bit odd, we dashed around getting a few more essential souvenirs, had pizza for supper, and compulsively checked the weather forecast.  I met up with fellow 'squeakers' at the finish line and we got to see the marathon trophy.

My Unicorn Club membership entitled me to a separate gear check, pre-race breakfast, and luxury coaches to the start.  I was also bumped up to Wave 1 (of 4) for the start.  This was mildly terrifying as I would be starting with runners who had a qualifying time of under three hours!  Luckily we were put in the last corral of that wave - so people wouldn't be tripping over us.  The coach to the start in Hopkinton took about 30 minutes and we were accompanied by police motorcycles before being dropped very close to the start - so we didn't get to experience the Athletes' Village.  The sun was shining, it wasn't too cold, the portaloos were plentiful and people were friendly.  There were hundreds of volunteers making sure that discarded clothing was collected for charity and that we all went, roughly, in the right direction.  

 The start line is marked by a banner, no high tech gantry here - just a banner stretched across the street.  The national anthem was sung, there was a flypast of two C-130s and very soon we were on our way.  I crossed the start line crying a little bit.  I couldn't believe I was actually about to run the Boston Marathon!

I'd spent months thinking about this race.  I'd listened to so many people tell me that the downhill at the start would kill my quads, to be careful not to go to fast, to save energy for the infamous Newton Hills.  Did I pay any attention?  Well, a little bit, but I rationalised that live in a hilly area, and that I'd be fine.  And for the first half I was fine.  I was loving it.  I was using the downhills (the first downhill stretch is surprisingly steep) to lengthen my stride and felt really comfortable.  My first 10k wasn't quite as fast as my London marathon in October, but the first half of the race was a fraction faster - despite bursting into tears in the Wellesley Scream Tunnel - an overwhelming wall of noise from the local college girls.  The route was really interesting. We ran from small town to small town.  At the start these were interspersed with rural sections - including a beautiful lake.  The support from the locals was amazing!  When I got to Framingham I heard my name and turned to see Husbando and a friend cheering me on.

This was a smidge over halfway, and my hamstring was starting to play up.  I was also keeping my eyes open for the next block of portaloos - my body clock had not overcome jet lag sufficiently well to schedule my pre race poo efficiently! I also felt a bit queasy - probably from the pain in my leg.  I used the loo, came out and turned straight round again to throw up.  I sent a quick text to friends so that they would know why my tracking times had gone to hell in a handcart and, I hoped, elicit some sympathy.  I was told that reducing my weight would facilitate a negative split! 

From there, my race was a bit of a disaster.  I couldn't keep water or any nutrients down, my leg hurt and I knew that the toughest bit of the course was ahead.  The Newton Hills aren't particularly steep, they just come late enough in the marathon that you feel them.  And they go on and on and on!  The most famous hill is 'Heartbreak Hill.'  I was conscious that I needed to save some energy for the big one, so was rather surprised when I got to the top of a long, steady, uphill drag to see a sign that said 'Congratulations on summiting Heartbreak Hill!'  I might have survived the hills but I still had about 6 or 7 miles to go.  I still couldn't even keep water down, I was thirsty, hungry and running (if we can call it running) on pure will power.  I walked a lot in the last few miles, all the time doing mental maths about possible finish times in my head.  

I set out to run 'about 4hrs' and was pleased to calculate that I could still do that.  I wanted to run, but as we came into Boston I was taking frequent walk breaks.  I was adamant that I would run from the moment I turned right on Hereford and then left on Boylston.  We'd walked this section frequently over the preceding few days, it really wasn't very far at all, and the bit on Boylston was slightly down hill.  However, over night someone had put a massive up hill section on the stretch of Hereford Street between Commonwealth and Boylston.  I swear crampons would have been useful.  I think I sort of ran up it, and then someone had added an extra three or four miles to the previously short section of Boylston Street.  I knew Husbando was in the stands at the finish, and the crowds were roaring us home, so there was only one thing for it; to grit my teeth, pick up the pace and run.  

I crossed the line, burst into tears and gave Husbando a hug across the barrier rail before making my way shakily to the VIP tent, a worried looking medic insisted on walking with me until he was sure I wasn't going to do anything daft like pass out in the street!  Loads of goodies were available, but I couldn't face them.  I went straight back to the function room in the nearby hotel where a veritable feast had been laid on for Unicon Club runners and their supporters.  Husbando ate enough for both of us, I think I tried a beer.  

Looking back, a time of 3.52.39 is a one I would have thought impossible 4 years ago.  It is a Boston Qualifying time and, given how awful I felt in the second half, I am very happy with it.  The run up to the race was plagued with niggling injuries, a stressful term at work and not enough long training runs.  All things to bear in mind for the future.  Boston may be a net downhill course - but it is not an easy marathon.  It is an amazing marathon - I hope to be back to run it again!