Some days you win; some days you come home and take a shower sitting down.
I had high hopes that Boston 2019 would be the year that brought the magic number. I'd run 3 seasons of track, ran 4 20 milers instead of my usual 3, ran from Hopkinton to Newton twice, and ran the Newton Hills in practice. I had a fast long run a week before Boston that was the fastest I'd run since 2012. The second time I ran the course, it was 50 degrees and I ran 21 miles at an 8:54 pace. I could do it. I could break 4 hours at Boston. (I've run sub 4 hours at other marathons, but Boston is a beast.)
I was so excited! The weather was all over the place, from a forecasted nor'easter at 45 degrees with rain and 20mph headwinds, to 65 degrees with a 15mph tail/crosswind. This teetered on too hot, but I felt like I could still do it. I even met a red wave superstar friend at Athlete's Village before she took off. This was our year!
I set off with the Striders towards the start. Our yellow wave wouldn't be separated by corrals due to some confusing forecasts for the day, and after last year, the BAA was looking to get everyone out sooner in case the weather got ugly. We made sure we were right behind the blue wave, among the first yellows to get out. Louise and I were very happy to see some friendly faces at the start!!
(My face when I see John J. for a hug at mile 0.0!!)
Sooo... it was humid. And my training on the course had allowed me to study and learn it well, knowing when to hold back and when to push. I also know I have a track record (HA) of nausea and pukage when conditions are warmer than I'm used to. I also knew I had the world's best kid waiting for me on the other end, and I didn't want to go home sick to her.
I spent the whole race worrying about whether I was going to be sick for her. "Hold back. Hold back. Hold back. Well, crap. Don't hold back that much. Hold back. Ok you can run one 8:30. Hold back! You're going to regret this. Crap, another 8:30. Hold back. Hold back." .... FOR HOURS.
I got to the halfway feeling good, but kind of knowing that the humidity was causing me to work harder than I'd have liked, for the times I was churning out. Who knows. Wasn't it supposed to rain later? Man that sun was hot. Meh. "Put one foot in front of the ooothhherrrrr!" Hold back.
I chugged along, still kind of knowing that I was working harder than I should be, but thinking it could be ok. My pace was reasonably on track, and not ahead of track. "Hold back. Hold back." I was so happy to successfully find my mom at the Newton Fire House, and was ready to tackle those hills! I remembered from training that the first hill at 17 is the biggest, and giggled remembering my running buddy's groaning from a month earlier. If I could do it then, I could do it now. I felt strong. Hold back.
The last 5 were a struggle. The 3:59 that had been within reach quickly became 4:07. NO. I was not going to edge on a stupid 4:09 AGAIN. (I'm nothing if not consistent?! Sheesh!) But I also didn't want to go home sick to Zoe. My 9:11 pace slowed to a 10-11 minute run/walk in the last 5 miles. It finally started to rain and I welcomed the cool breeze, but it was too late. I was already on the verge of puking. I approached the "1 mile to go" sign and told myself NO MORE WALKING and swore this was the gutsiest race I had ever run (it always feels that way in the moment) and that if my XC coach from high school knew how I felt, he would be proud.
I got to mile 26 down the longest stretch of Boylston EVER, and my watch read 4:03:38. This meant I had 1:20 to run the last 0.2, which is faster than an 8 minute pace, when I was already feeling like I was going to puke. "DIG DEEP," I told myself -- "just do the best you can, and *maybe* you can hit that backup time of 4:04. Probably not, but you won't get it if you don't try. GO!"
4:05:08. It was so frustrating. SO much frustration over a matter of seconds- that's what Boston does to you. (You can see me check my watch as I cross the finish at the end of this super cool Adidas video)
Stopping after the finish, I immediately felt like I was going to pass out. Blood pressure can drop a lot when you stop running. I really didn't want to get stuck in cold wet clothes- I just needed to get back to the MVS bus so I could change and go home. But man those wheelchairs looked inviting. I accepted a medal, a snack bag, and a space blanket, but passed on the heavy 16oz bottle of water and banana that I swear would have taken me down. Those volunteers are awesome.
Just... find... the bus....
I was very sweetly greeted by an awesome crew of Striders, and John J and another MVSer guided me back to the bus. The world was swirling around me. "I might need a bag to throw up in," I begged poor John, who took such good care of me. My dad was eagerly waiting outside the bus as planned to drive me back. Luckily for everyone, when I sat down, the blood was able to return to my extremities as my blood pressure returned to normal, and I didn't end up needing the bag John got for me. Somehow I changed and made it out to my dad's car after what felt like an eternity, and we made the drive home.
I hobbled into the garage, opened the door, and the best kid ever was sitting there, waiting to greet me like an adorable puppy. I put on my best game face and gave her a big hug before continuing to hobble upstairs. I got in the shower, and sat down.
Ugh. I just needed to sit, right? Maybe if I just sit here for another minute... just one more minute...
"MOM!? ARE YOU OK?!"
Yep. I think. Just one more minute...
Eventually I made it out and thought if I could just get some food in me, maybe I'd be ok. And you know what? It was ok. Barely. I'd barely made it back to the bus, barely made it without puking, barely made it out to dinner- if I'd pushed it anymore, I'm not sure any of those things would have been true, and I really didn't want to do that to Zoe.
"Are you putting me to bed?" she asked me that night.
"Oh sweetie, Dad's going to put you to bed."
"But I want to be with the marathon girl!"
How can you say no to that?! This is why I'd held back. I wanted to be there for her.
I'd done the best I could. But where had I gone wrong? Boston 2019 was a tough day for a lot of people. It's really hard to transition from training at 30 degrees to running in sunny 65 degrees with humidity. If your body is acclimated to the temperature like a Kenyan, it's different. Training for Boston in chilly Boston winters is tough.
My legs were totally fine. I ran several times that week at fast paces, seemingly trying to convince myself that I was, in fact, more in shape than a 4:05 at Boston. AGGHHHH
I read somewhere that temps around 65 can decrease your performance by 4%. 4% of 4:05 would give me a 3:55. Rawr. I also read that the average finish time this year was 4 minutes faster than last year. So I'm average?! Because last year I ran a 4:09, and this year I ran a 4:05. Average. Psh. All those changes and I'm just maintaining last year's fitness?? AGGGGHHHHHHH
I spent the next few weeks not being able to get out of my head, convinced there was something wrong with me. This was more than "You're just getting older," which several people tried to tell me. Why was puking my thing?? Stupid lactic acid.
In the meantime, the Vermont marathon in Burlington is looming just around the corner. I ran 20 yesterday which was ok until about mile 16, when I puttered out, and then spent the next 3 hours on the couch/ in bed. Whaaaattttt was I doinggggg???
And then I ran a 5K this morning and ran a great time, especially considering yesterday's long run. Maybe I would be ok...
Fingers crossed for agreeable weather in Burlington, 3 weeks from today. If breaking 4 at Boston means giving up more time with this girl, (or giving up more sleep, or neglecting my job, etc) then it's not something I need. This is what running 40-50 miles a week gets me. During the school year, at least, I will not ever have time for 70-80 mile weeks without letting something else go.
Mom running. Anything for this kid!
