BOSTON 2022
Journal Entry:
I’ve been chasing this unicorn since 2010. In December 2021, I learned that my time in Chicago 2019 (3:37:10; a 2:50 buffer) was accepted into the BOSTON MARATHON! In fact, you didn’t even need a buffer for the 126th running. I wrote Coach Gary both happy and overwhelmed.
I birthed a beautiful human named Mele three months before this. I instantly fell in love and my entire life, priorities and world view changed. It feels like a miracle that my husband and I conceived with my 44-year-old eggs and ovaries without the need for IVF 10 months before that.
I gave birth via an unexpected cesarian (huge bummer!). My abdominals were stretched over 10 months and I was challenged getting that strength back. My lower back and sacrum area ached. My joints and ligaments were lax. On top of that I was still 15 pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight with my sweet little thyroid gland huffing and puffing, more “hypo” than “hyper” to get me through each day. What’s more, even though I ran 10 marathons and over 30 half-marathons pre-pregnancy, I could barely run one mile without stopping. January’s training protocol included walk-run intervals! Miraculously, I recouped some of my cardiovascular fitness, enough to retest it at a 10K in February. Even more miraculous, a piece of cartilage chipped off my right patella (from kneeling teaching private yoga sessions; probably from picking up my baby too), and my body recovered after about 7-10 days of rest. Yes, I did lose precious training time and was a little behind in long runs heading into March due to the injury. And, yes, it was one of the most brutal training cycles being only a few months postpartum, but I eventually got it done. I think Coach Gary is a miracle worker.
Fast forward to April 18, 2022.
126th Running of the Boston Marathon.
50th Running of the Women’s (Female’s) Field.
There was a quiet reverence here in Boston in the days leading up to the marathon. And finally the bid day was here.
The sun was shining in Boston Common as we loaded the school buses from seemingly every school district in Boston and its surrounding towns. It was a smooth ride to Hopkington and I LOVED that people rolled down the windows to cheer for us as we sped down the highway to the start of this famous point to point race. I felt like we were all sparkling like special stars walking to the start corrals. It was just around 50 degrees, and in my experience, perfect weather for long sleeves and shorts. However, I can’t remember the last time I ran a marathon without a spot of clouds in the sky. We haven’t started racing yet, so I brushed off the thought that I was overdressed. I noticed that the race organizers had sunscreen in soap dispensers. I decided against it because it would just sweat off and run into my eyes—maybe I should have covered my shoulders/neck area because in the end, I got burnt! Nevertheless, everything and everybody was shining in the sun. I couldn’t stop smiling, I felt like I was shining. This is a special day for everyone in Boston.
Along the walk to the corrals, I also decided I didn’t want to suffer today. I didn’t want to push the pace and stress about getting a specific time. After all, didn’t I suffer enough through the pregnancy?
And, in the seven postpartum months prior to this day?
And, during the grueling training cycle that got me to the start line?
I decided I wanted to enjoy this day. I abandoned the initial strategy: start out running 8:55 pace and end with an 8:40 pace.
Forget that.
I’ll just hold an 8:55/9:00 minute pace and enjoy this day.
One female along the walk to the corrals told me she was still peeing her pants seven months postpartum and congratulated me for getting here. So glad for the sign I pinned to my back: “7 Months Postpartum (F44)”. I walked the city of Boston the day before searching and searching for safety pins. They forgot to put them in my bag and I needed them for my bib and sign. They were sold out in the stores that were open (it was Easter Sunday). My husband, Miko, and I ended up going back to the expo to get them. Miko was annoyed we were walking so much the day before my marathon to find safety pins.
The shot went off and we made our way to the start! As we ran over the timing mat, I hit the start button on my Garmin joining the chorus of running watch beeps. What came first? An immediate and abrupt DOWNHILL. Right out of the gates. Holy Cow. As I took to the descent, I fought like hell to slow down. Coach Gary said to let people pass you in the first 10 miles. And, they DID! I tried to find other runners going slow and tuck in next to them. My quads worked like hell to put on the breaks during that first mile, and I knew this race wasn’t going to be easy. My legs were already exhausted.
The first mile averaged 8:50 pace—shit! Coach Gary said, “run the mile you’re in”. So I let it go and worked harder to slow down. At this point I was running a 9:00 minute pace, 45 seconds slower than my performance in Chicago 2019. I patted myself on the back for slowing down. Apparently, I didn’t slow down enough. By mile four, my legs felt trashed. Miko was waiting to cheer for me at mile 10. I felt somewhat overwhelmed by the thought of running SIX MORE MILES to get to him. SIX MILES. The sun was beating down and I felt HOT.
In the meantime, support came from so many runners on the course. The sign was pinned to my back rather than the front—I knew people would be passing me today and I knew I would need the support as they sped by. (These aren’t exact quotes, it’s the best I can do to remember)
“Congrats Mama!”
“Great job and congratulations!”
“I also gave birth at age 44 and ran a marathon after that! This is incredible”
“I have three children at home and I’m still running marathons. Great job!”
“What is your baby’s name?”
“My husband is blonde haired and blue-eyed. We have three gorgeous half-Filipino children at home!”
“My son is 17 and he is waiting with my husband at the finish line!”
“Hey, I’m four weeks pregnant. Way to go mamma.”
“I’m 8 months pregnant.”
“I’m over 55 and I’m still running after having children. Women are incredible.”
“Boy or girl?”
“You inspire me!”
“I’m a labor and delivery nurse and you’re amazing!” (To which I responded—“you’re an angel”. I hope she heard me.)
“My best friend and partner is behind us and she’s 26 weeks.”
“You’re putting us to shame!” (Said the 65+ female runner speeding past me. Uhh, you’re putting US to shame.)
“Put your bib and metal in the baby scrapbook to remember this accomplishment.”
“Did you drop in weight to do this race?” (A man asked me this one)
“Wow! I’m five months postpartum! Can you believe we did it?”
“All my friends had babies and they are really struggling to get back into running.”
It’s not lost on me that at the 50th anniversary of the women’s (female’s) field that we can celebrate the female body in this way. Not only can females race marathons, but we can also do it postpartum and pregnant. And, over age 40!
I finally made it to my husband. It was super easy to spot him because he had a blow-up sized photograph of baby Mele’s head from a company called “fathead”. Mele is adorable, and I was delighted to see his sweet face in the distance. I stopped quickly to do a cheek kiss with Miko. He looked at me and said, “how are you feeling?” I smiled and calmly said “Tired. It’s going to be a looooong 26.2!” I’m always surprised at how tired I feel, yet I speak as if I’m sitting back drinking my morning coffee. This sure doesn’t feel like “conversation pace”.
My next goal was to make it to Miko at his second cheer spot along mile 22.
I realized after that encounter, I must have “hit the wall.” It might have happened before that. A personal record for me, actually. I’ve hit the wall before, but never before the half-marathon mark. I did my best to take in the surroundings and put-off that first stop and walk that was inevitably coming. (Once the first stop-and-walk happens, the subsequent ones come fast and furious.) I think the first one happened around mile 11?–it’s a blur.
You can hear the Wellesley Scream Tunnel at least a half a mile away; well it seemed that way when I was running towards the campus. A long line of screaming college women/females came out with signs reading “get kissed here” and “stop for a kiss” and “I’ll kiss your dirty face.” Hilarious!
The rest is a blur of miles. Somewhere on A heartbreaking hill, far far from the ACTUAL Heartbreak Hill, I took a stop-and-walk. And, I must have been walking for a while because a spectator noticed me and said “Come on 720! Stay strong!”. (My bib is 19720) Thank God for her, I shook off the walking daze and picked back up again.
One hill by mile 15 or 16 was nearly a “stop-and-cry”. I said to myself, “this has all been so hard.” (by all I mean: the training, comeback, race) I shook that off too and picked back up. From that point on I counted to 20 every time I stopped and walked. That way I could imagine my minutes pace per mile with an extra 20 seconds. Good motivator to start running again.
Next I remember a long stretch of beautiful mid-century modern homes to my left. Some people here have great taste.
Somehow, I made it to mile 20! For as slow as I was moving, the miles were coming at me fast. It’s strange to wish the marathon could both last forever and be finished, all at the same time.
Soon I was running up yet ANOTHER hill. Just like any other on this entire course. I realized this might be it: the famous Heartbreak Hill? I looked around and asked, “Is this it?” In my stupor, I wanted confirmation. “Is this Heartbreak Hill?”
A spectator said “great job!”
I asked again, “Is this IT though?”
To which he replied: “Yea! This is it!”
I finally experienced Heartbreak Hill and cheered at the top.
Now I can check that off my bucket list.
There were drunken college students everywhere slurring “you’vff got thithss. You’rrr sthooo sthrong!” It smelled like a frat party. Some students piled on top of a canopy over the front door of a dorm building. They were so drunk they weren’t even watching the race.
Soon I saw Mele’s poster-sized face ahead of me. I made it to Miko’s second cheer spot! After a cheer and a cheek kiss, he asked, “how are you feeling?” (AKA, he knew it wasn’t going well) I told him I hit the wall a while back, but with a smile.
Another mother on the course chatted with me about being a mom and a runner. She asked me how I was feeling. I told her I felt grateful to be here. And, that I hit the wall around mile 10, so I’m taking it one mile at a time. She replied, “and that’s all you can do both here and in life.” Off she went ahead of me.
Was it before or after Heartbreak Hill—I don’t remember. But, someone on runners left, a guy, pointed to me and said: “I ran Chicago with you! 2019!” I didn’t see his face, but I smiled and waved. Who was that? Perhaps he came in for a massage at Finish Line Physical Therapy when I worked there?
CITGO
There it was. It was the infamous sign letting you know that you’re making your way into Boston. I survived to this point, and I felt so proud of how hard I worked to stay in this race. I kept running despite terrific discomfort and fatigue. And, what I’m most proud of, was not getting down on myself for hitting the wall so early. I didn’t berate myself. I didn’t even get angry that the race didn’t pan out the way I wanted it to. I just ran each mile I was in, stayed present. I worked hard not to disassociate with my body. I allowed my brain to see, feel and hear everything around me.
Somewhere between 23 and 24, a female ahead of me was walking. I placed my hand quickly on her shoulder and said something like “you got this, let’s go!” I can’t remember what she replied as I passed her. Shortly after that, I was the one walking. She came up behind me, took my hand and said, let’s go. Thank God for her—I ran, however slow, from mile 25-26.2 without stopping because of her. (It’s a small world—we connected in the finish area. I was her massage therapist at Finish Line PT! If you’re reading this Denny, I’m SO grateful for you!)
The highway ramp down and up to Hertford—incredible. I watched the pros race it so many times on TV. I was running it now!
Hertford—the crowds thickened. It sounded more and more like the NYC Marathon course I know and love with cheers coming in all directions. Just before my left turn, Shalane Flanagan was running with a woman who had only part of her leg because of the bombing in 2013. I told that female she was amazing. (I actually didn’t see Shalane on the course, only her running partner. I read in the newspaper afterward who she/he/they was and why they were running together.) People have overcome a great deal to finish this race.
Coach Gary warned me that the finish is much further than you anticipate after getting on Boylston. I kept that in mind before making the “sweetest left turn”.
Boylston—The crowds were LOUDER and THICKER than First Avenue on a crisp November day in NYC. Boylston’s decibels rivaled the Lafayette crowds in Brooklyn! Coach Gary was right. The finish is much further away than you think, and I’m grateful for that. It means I had the opportunity to enjoy the race I had worked so hard to get into. The crowds, the sun, the athletes. My guess is that 99% of people running today are head-over-heels crazy for running. And, today, we all finished together, in love, no matter how punishing or rewarding our experience on the course was.
There are some athletes out there who may read this and think I’m a total amateur runner going out too fast. To that I say: you’ve never made a mistake, crashed and burned on the Boston Marathon course? You’ve never ran marathon after marathon attempting to qualify for Boston and then messed it up when you got there? Yep, this is my second slowest marathon finish with positive splits. But, I hung in every mile and it took all the strength I had to do it.
Cheers to one of my STRONGEST marathons to date.
P.S. As I was packing my bags to head home, I found, in a small zipper pocket of my travel bag, four bright gold Tracksmith safety pins from my “BQ tank”.