2012 Boston Marathon: The Perfect Worst Race

Before I start writing, I would like to point out that it is 49 degrees in Boston right now.  K, thanks.

Aaaand, here we go...

As I was riding the elevator one final time in the Omni Parker House Hotel before leaving Boston, a fellow survivor said to me, "Congratulations on a perfect, worst race."  At first, I looked at him confused, but then I realized, he was spot on.  Having run about 25 minutes off both my goal and PR, I do not think any race could have filled me with as much happiness and pride as the 

2012 Boston Marathon.

And yes, for everyone that finished, we can forever call ourselves "survivors".  As the second hottest race in Boston Marathon history, reaching nearly 90 degrees, we have etched our spaces into the running history books.   Here are the quick and dirty (or should I say, the not-so-quick and dirty) stats:

• Of the 26,000+ registrants, over 4,300 either did not pick up their race bibs or accepted a deferment to the 2013 event.  This is the first time in Boston Marathon history that a deferment was offered.
• Nearly 1,000 runners that started the race did not finish.
• Over 2,100 runners needed medical assistance along the route.
• About 150 runners were brought to area hospitals.
• Between 10 and 20 runners were in critical condition on Monday due to dehydration, hyponatremia, or heat stroke.
• One woman died of a heart attack.
• Both defending champions, Kenyans Geoffrey Mutai and Caroline Kilel, started but did not finish.
• Of the 37 elite men and women that started, 10 dropped out.

What am I grateful for?  The sheer fact that I am not one of these statistics. 

Arriving in Boston:  "Fear Becomes Comfort"

When the weather forecast reached 80 degrees a week before the marathon, I became dysfunctional worried.  People would say, "Oh, don't worry, you'll be fine", which made me mad.  I would read, "Everyone is dealing with the same thing", which made me even madder.  The thing is, I trained hard.  I got in good shape.  I was healthy.  I was ready to peak.  When you train for a marathon, having all these factors come together at once is actually not, um, typical.  So, yes, I would be fine, and yes, everyone was dealing with the same thing, but I was not there to compete with everyone else; I was there to compete with myself.  As the predicted temps continued to climb that week, I started to accept them and took away the self-inflicted pressure.  I finally just had to say to myself, "Shut the hell up, and go run, Jen."

  

Our flight out of Raleigh was awesome (yes, I just said "flight" and "awesome" in the same sentence...also not, um, typical); it was full of marathoners!  How can you tell marathoners apart from everyone else in an airport you ask?  Oh, you didn't ask?  Well, tough, here is your answer anyway:  We carry backpacks with "26.2" or "Runner Dude/Chick" water bottles sticking out of every possible pocket, we wear compression socks, we are snacking on clif bars and plastic packets of peanut butter, we are reading Runners World and Running Times Magazine, and we get up to pee 732 times before we board.  I think I won the captain obvious award however.  I did not fully finish drying my race apparel the night before, so I laid it out to air dry in the airport.  Totally normal.

Upon arriving at Logan Airport, all my conversations with runners (and I had a lot of them) began with either, "How will you adjust your race with the heat?" or, my favorite, a simple, "WTF (said in its non-acronym form) is up with this heat?"  Mike and I shared a cab with two gents from Kentucky, and they were busy using an online calculator to convert their goal times into heat-adjusted goals.  Again, totally normal.  When we arrived at the Omni, most runners were somewhat freaking out, although still smiling, and there was a certain comfort in this.  Despite all the email warnings from the Boston Athletic Association urging runners to, um, not run, that would not be an option for the majority of us; we all trained hard for this day, and we were in it together.

 My own little fan club

Athletes' Village:  "A Long Ride on the Way to a Long Ride"

My alarm went off at 5am, but since the race did not begin until 10am, I didn't need to hoover my bagel or take a body glide bath just yet.  Lucky for me, the buses to Athletes' Village were parked right outside the Omni, so at 6am, I headed out and joined the sea of runners waiting to board.  On the bus, I met Cassidy from Arizona, and we quickly became Athletes' Village BFF's.  We also met Mark and Dave, two gents from North Dakota.  We took pictures of each other in proper runner-nerd fashion, but I apparently took the nerd-cake as I boarded the bus with a beach chair, blanket, and pillow.  What!?  If my ass was going to be sitting for almost three hours, I demanded comfort!

Once at the Village, it was quite the site.  The temps were rising, so water bottles were strewn about and runners were already stripped down to practically nothing.  The body glide baths had begun, and I saw more ass that day than is ever necessary.  I waited perhaps a little too long to take my final pee.  The port-o-pot lines were loooong, and after 30 anxious minutes, I was finally out with just enough time to start my own stripping and the long walk to the start line.  After a 45-minute bus ride, a two-plus hour sit-and-wait-fest, and a mile walk to the start line, it was finally time to melt run.

Um, yeah, thanks.  We get it.  It's going to be hot.

That's right, how you like my chair now, suckas?!

Cassidy and I

Start Line:  "Shit, I'm Already Sweating!"

Here we go!  I must say, I was more relaxed now than before any other marathon.  The day was turning out even hotter than predicted (80 degrees at the start), so the pressure was off.  I carried a 10 ounce bottle of nuun with me to the line, which I discarded when I realized that 10 ounces would certainly do me no good.  Even if there was 10 ounces of magical-heat-crusher-fairy-dust in there, it still wouldn't have mattered.  Once in position, I looked down at my feet for the twelfth time to neurotically ensure my laces were tied and noticed beads of sweat already dripping down my stomach.  Then I heard the guy next to me say, "Shit, I'm already sweating!", to which we both just laughed and wished each other a fun and SAFE run.

Miles 1-6:  "I Got This.  Or Not?  But, Really, I Do.  Or Not?"

On a good day, the goal in Boston was to go out conservatively around 7:10 pace, and then pick it up once I settled in.  At the 5k mark, I was on 7:13 pace, and at the 10k mark, 7:09 pace.  Perfect!  Or not?  The first six miles felt effortless, but I could already feel the monster starting to set in.  And by "the monster", I mean "the sun".  It's ironic, really, that one of the daily affirmations I was supposed to tell myself while training was "I love the sun."  Mm hmm, yeah, okay.  I went through mile four in 6:58, and whereas I normally wouldn't blink at that pace, today I was twitching.  I knew I would need to slow down.  Or not?!  I was still confident that I COULD PR; I mean, why not?  I trained for this!  ...aaand that's when I saw the "Quit Zone".  In Ashland, there was an ice cream shop, open and cheering for runners to stop, call it a day, and eat free ice cream.  Hilarious.  ...aaand tempting I must add.  Although some runners did stop, I forged on, noticing that many runners around me were already breathing very hard.  Somewhere around mile six, I saw my first open fire hydrant and got VERY excited.  That's when I realized this might be trouble.  Twenty miles to go, and I was overly excited to see a fire hydrant.  Twenty miles to go.  Oh.  My.  God.

Miles 7-10:  "Negotiations"

Around the seven mile mark in Framingham, I spotted a digital clock with a temperature reading of 85 degrees, followed by a digital sign warning runners, "HOT, HOT, HOT!"  Um, really?  ...because we were unsure of that.  By this time, the sun had me under it's ugly pretty big little rays.  Problem was, I wasn't ready to throw the towel in just yet.  I did, however, start grabbing cold, soaked towels from spectators.  The water stations were getting backed up, and as you approached them, you barreled off the soaked backs of other runners.  To ensure they had enough water for everyone, volunteers pulled back if you grabbed for more than one cup.  Runners were already dropping like hot cakes ("dropping like hot cakes"...does that even make sense?!).  Walking.  Sitting on curbs.  Cramping.  Gasping.  One man in good spirits started singing, to which another man responded, "Shut it, dude!"  My body knew I needed to slow down, but my brain was still determined.  I can still do this!  But I'm not sure I should.  YOU BOUGHT A $100 MARATHON JACKET...KEEP GOING!  Slow.  Down.  At mile 9, I got somewhat of a second wind, which lasted about 8.5 seconds.  At this point, another runner, Missy, started chatting with me.  She seemed un-phased by the heat and was giving encouragement to everyone she could.  Hrmpff.  By mile 10, I finally decided that finishing and surviving was the most important goal for the day.  I consciously slowed down by about 20-30 seconds per mile, which felt great.  It would not be the day I hoped for, but now I could relax and enjoy a long run with 20,000+ hot friends.

Drenched

Miles 11-13:  "Here Comes the Sun, Little Darlin', and I say, it sucks It's Alright"

Did I say "relax and enjoy a long run"?  Yeah, I lied.  Despite the slower pace, everything started to hurt.  The monster was cruel, very cruel.  You physically could not consume enough water to keep sufficiently hydrated.  EVERYONE was cramping.  My quads and hamstrings started to go.  Anytime there would be the slightest bit of shade on the road, everyone rushed to that side.  It usually took me to the end of the shady spot to realize why everyone was over there, so yeah, I'm dumb.  Spectators were out in full force, with kids handing out popsicles.  I still had too much pride in myself to actually take a popsicle, despite how delicious they looked.  I started looking forward to Wellesley College, which was where those supposedly-crazy-loud-awesome girls would give me a jolt of energy and pump me up to the finish line.  I gotta say, they were kind of a big deal.  Thank you, gals!  Shortly thereafter, a group of spectators was singing the Beatles to us, "Here comes the sun, little runners, here comes the sun, and we say, you're alriiiiiiight!"  It really made me smile...

Water tunnels were set up along the route.  Thank.  God.

Miles 14-20:  "Oblivion"

Right foot.  Left Foot.  Right foot.  Left foot.  GIVE ME A POPSICLE (Pride?  Who gives a shit about pride!?).  High-fives for ALL!   Thumbs up!  Hey, look!  It's MarathonFoto!  SMIIIIIIIILE!  Hmm, what do I want to eat after I'm done?  Burrrggeeerrrrr.  ...and I'll have white wine instead of red since it's cold.  Hey, look!  There's Missy!  Oh, no, the monster bit Missy.  I wonder how tan I am getting right now?  Ice bags.  ZIPLOC ICE BAGS!  Yay!  Ice, Ice baby...  Drop ice into bra and into front of shorts.  I look lumpy, teehee.  Boston College drunk boys are the BEST CHEERLEADERS EVER.  Hill?  Oh yeah, those Newton thingies.  Quad cramp.  Walk up it.  Oh shit, charlie horse.  RUN up it!  Another popsicle. YAY!  Spread-eagle spray hose station.  YAY!   High heat alert sign.  REALLY?  Is it hot?  I hadn't noticed.  Do not look at the medical tents.  OMG they are filled!  DO NOT LOOK AT THE MEDICAL TENTS!  Did I just pass three elite females?  Whewee!  Mental note: look up who bib "F22" is.  My sunglasses need windshield wipers; I can't see!  Did a spectator just say it is 89 degrees?  Oh.  That's not good.  Aww, look at that runner making out with the BC dude.  Wait, what?  HERE COMES THE SUN, LITTLE DARLIN', doo-do-doo-do.  Gatorade.  Burrrp.

Making the most of the day with a Mile 19 Photo Opp!

Miles 21-26:  "Do the Pez Dispenser!"

For a moment, despite the agony that was 90 degrees, I was a little sad as I passed mile 20.  In six miles, my Boston Marathon experience would be over.  Then, my left calf cramped, and the thought of it being over was FREAKING AWESOME.  There were times in the final six miles that I felt a burst of energy, but there was no point in taking advantage of it.  Why not?  For starters, I might, um, die, and second, all goals had come off the table anyway.  Just finish.  Safely.  Heartbreak Hill was really nothing in which to raise your eyebrows.  Granted, the cramping made it more challenging, but if you train on rolling terrain, it is no big deal.  At the mile 22 water station, there was nothing positioned on the left hand side of the road as there were at all the other water stops.  Therefore, I missed water all together.  Between miles 20 and 23, I HAD NO WATER.  This was tough, as this was when we needed it the most, and my right quad seized up on me.  I found comfort in encouraging other stopped runners to keep going, that we were almost there.  When the 1-mile to go sign appeared, I became a little emotional.  I trained hard for a less-than-ideal day.  I never felt so much discomfort, yet so much enjoyment at the same time.  I knew that the best finish line in the world awaited me.  With a half mile left, my calf about gave out on me.  That's when I yelled, "Come on, y'all, let's do the pez dispenser!"  Pez Dispenser:  heads bobbing uncontrollably, legs completely unbent to prevent further cramping.  If you've ever seen "Saved By the Bell",  you might remember Lisa doing "the sprain".  I must say, I never imagined that in my final moments of the Boston Marathon, I'd be thinking about...Screech.

26.2:  "Tears, Laughter...and Wheelchairs"

This was it.  After rounding that final turn, the finish line came in clear view.  After passing the 26 mile mark, the sun's rays could shine no brighter than the smile on my face.  I was choked up, with sweat beads and laughter at what this day brought streaming through my body.  The crowd was still in full force, cheering as my eyes kept focused on that line ahead.  Once across, I was shocked to see what awaited us:  wheelchairs.  A medical professional greeted me as I raised my arms in glory, then lowered them down in defeat, to ask if I was okay.  As I continued walking, another medical professional gave me a huge hug.  Whomever this person is, they deserve a raise.  Yes, that is right, the "Finish Line Hugger" for the hot-as-balls 2012 Boston Marathon DESERVES A BIG-ASS RAISE.  I feel as though we walked a mile...maybe even more...to collect our medal, food, blanket, and bags before finally reaching the family reunion area, where Mike greeted me with a beautiful, yellow rose.  I finished the Boston Marathon in 3:27:28, my slowest marathon to date by over 13 minutes, and a far cry from the sub-3:06 (PR) I was confident in, but at that moment in time, a hug from the person that loves me most was better than anything.

All.  Done.  ...and smiling!

Of all my races, I have never been prouder.

A badly cramped runner making it across the line

Runners await their turn in the finish line medical tents.

Got my burger!

"Redemption"

What!?  You can't expect me to have trained that well and not consider a redemption marathon.  Sheesh!  After the marathon was over, runners around Boston were seen limping, wearing their medals and jackets, and telling stories about their 26.2 experience.  Elevator (the stairwells were, um, empty) conversation was mostly about seeking redemption on this perfect, worst race.  It seems that most runners tried to run their pace for the first six miles, but realized, stubbornly, that they would not be able to continue if they wanted to finish safely.  So, we all slowed down, and when that felt hard, we slowed down more, until all we could do was hang on and "enjoy" the ride.  None of us planned for this, so why not plan for another?  My plan is to keep running (I took two days off and felt good enough to get right back at it) and see how I feel in a few weeks.  If my body feels too trashed, then no, I will not run another.  If I feel good, however, I'll see another city very soon for my next 26.2.     

So, that bib I passed?  #F22?  That was Mary Akor, a 2:33 marathoner that competed in the Olympic Marathon Trials in January.  In Boston 2012, Mary finished in 3:14.  It is even more humbling to realize how much the elites struggled.

To everyone that ran and finished, to those that started and unfortunately did not finish, and to those that ended up in the hospital instead of at the finish line, congratulations for merely having the courage to START.  I hope everyone's recovery has been healthy and full of pride.  We will forever have stories to tell and be able to say, 

"I survived the 2012 Boston Marathon." 

 (btw, this needs to be a t-shirt!)

Most importantly, a huge debt of gratitude is owed to the volunteers, and even more so, to the spectators.  Without them, there would have been many more runners needing medical assistance, and their candor and encouragement was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. 

And now, without further ado, given Vanilla Ice's lyrics flowing through my hot head somewhere around mile 18, I rewrote a few verses for what would be a great 2012 Boston Marathon theme song, set to, of course, Ice Ice baby.

Go ahead.  Click below.  Change the lyrics.  Embrace your inner nerd.  Sing along.

Ice Ice Baby 

New lyrics:

Yo, BAA, we did it!

Ice ice baby
Ice ice baby

All right, stop

Rehydrate and listen
Ice was there giving us some attention
The sun, grabbed a hold of us brightly

Stuck rays in our face and said, "go bite me!"
Did it ever stop?
Yo, hey-ull no

Turned up its heat, that's fo sho

In the extremes, we weren't sure we could handle

 Curse at the sun, you damn, mighty lil' vandal

Walk

Rush aid stations real soon

  We're killin' our legs, and there ain't no nuun

 Deadly, shoulda had more gel with me

Anything less than my best is a felony

Slow it or stop it

I lost too much weight

Betta eat freeze pops

The heat don't play

I think there is a problem

Yo, I'll solve it

Check out my ice before the sun dissolves it

Ice ice baby, give me more

 Ice ice baby, give me more

Ice ice baby, give me more

Ice ice baby, give me more...

*************************************

Thanks, Boston.  That was a humbling experience, but you still take the cake (mmm, cake)!

Happy...cool...running, y'all!