562 Runners Can't Be Wrong--2009 Boston Recap (Part I)

About 27 hours ago, I finished my second Boston Marathon...and after 4 hours, 36 minutes, and 53 seconds of running (and some walking), I was...pooped. But happily pooped. There are so many things that made this year so very incredible, so many that I'm opting this year to cut the blogging recap into two posts...so here is the first half, with more to come!

Mile 1: Having discarded my secondhand, gray, old-man style sweatpants (which after their two-day $5 "rental fee" were a steal), and clad in the perfect combination of long-sleeved Under Armour, shorts, and bedazzled singlet, I was ready to run. B, John (right), and I settled into a steady pace, Jim having bolted ahead at the start, shooting for a 3:50 total time. We agreed that the best tact was to settle into a slow, steady pace of 9:15/mile, saving ourselves for speed in the later miles. As we passed the Mile 1 sign, B noted our pace, just over 9 minute/mile. Hmm. We agreed it would be best to slow down a bit for the next mile, as the excitement bolstering us here was sure to fade.

Mile 2: The three of us happily cruised up and down the rolling hills, our feet flying, and our chatter markedly in tandem (a lot of "Can you believe we're doing it? The marathon snuck up this year!" and so on, and so forth). We waved at fans alongside the road, and inhaled the heady scents of barbecue and beer. It was a glorious day for running: upper 40s, overcast, and the rain had held off. Strange, though, despite our efforts to keep to the plan, we'd slid in around 8:53 for pace. Curses.

Mile 3: Despite John's warnings, and my trepidatious feelings about what the speed combined with the downhills (those sneaky downhills got me last year), we continued on at a pretty good clip, though at least above the 9:00/mile mark. The scent of charcoal grills and hamburgers was a feast for the senses, though, sadly, not for the stomach.

Mile 4: At long last, the stiffness eased out of my joints, and I found myself just...running. I high-fived some younger spectators (and tomorrow's runners!), and with renewed spirit, not to mention a big grin, sailed into Mile 5.

Mile 5: The fifth mile passed as much the same as the first four...but come on, is there anything better than running the Boston Marathon? I couldn't help my glee. We were at last again chasing the unicorn.

Mile 6: The three of us trotted together over the 10K mark, Brenda and I yelling excitedly about what was the first text message update to our families. What were they thinking? Were they tracking our progress? I know, now, that my dad's poor cell reception meant that he wasn't--but that my mom was getting my updates, and calling my dad on the landline every time she got one, so that he would know where I was and how it was going.

Mile 7: Somewhere near here, B and I lost John. He'd been grumbling lightly about the quicker-than-anticipated starting pace, and the secret part of my mind was agreeing--had we gone out too fast? I suspected so, and the lack of a quick break to stretch was beginning to wear on my knees, chronically stiff from the six months of training. John had not, however, fallen behind, but had bolted ahead. As we passed knots of people, they cheered our names, and for Dana Farber, some thanking us for what we were doing on behalf of cancer research.

Mile 8: At last, I called a break for a much-needed stretch. Since Brenda doesn't like to stop while she's running we agreed that I'd stop to stretch, and she'd carry on, albeit slower, until I had time to stretch and run to catch up with her. The plan carried off to perfection, my legs thanking me for the stretch.

Mile 9: As we ran, the spectators grew more and more interesting, with a man dressed up as Elvis hip-shaking as he serenaded the runners passing him by. Needless to say we hooted, hollered, and clapped, but did not throw our undergarments at him. (I can't imagine the chafe that would have ensued.)

Mile 10: B and I continued knocking back the miles steadily, slowing down slightly as passed a Mexican restaurant, where the air was thick with the smell of fresh enchiladas, and filled with the sound of loud Latin music. Spectators milled in the parking lot outside, eating and drinking as they watched us go by.

Mile 11: In which I had a running epiphany. Knowing that I needed another stretch of the quads to release the building pressure in my much-beleaguered knees, I told Brenda to carry on, and that I didn't really have another sprint in me to catch her--so she should carry on. This was the truth, but there is also another truth I'd come to realize in Mile 11--we are very different runners, Brenda and I...though I adore to run with her, she prefers to keep herself moving at all times. I, on the other hand, run stronger, faster, and happier, if I can get a stretch and a quick rest in every 3 or 4 miles. Potato, potato, but we both had to run our own race, and thus far, I had been blithely running Brenda's--and I knew I'd come out too fast.

Mile 12: I trundled through Mile 12 merrily, smiling and waving at fans on the sides of the road. Strange, it felt normal to be running "alone" again, though not as much as I'd have thought--but then I'd run large portions of many of the training runs solo. I remembered, too, we are, all of us, never running alone... My mother was at home, walking her long miles in preparation for her first half marathon, my cousin Evan was surely running with me, and there were 561 others running 26.2 miles for cancer research, at the exact moment that I was. We were buoyed by our common goal, our faith, and the wings and fleet feet of those that had come before us, those that had begun the goal that we'd carried on, and that had raised more than $20 million for cancer research.

Mile 13: Halfway into the thirteenth mile, I heard it--the Wellesley Scream Tunnel. I passed a walking runner, tapped him on the shoulder, and yelled, "Come on, the girls are waiting for ya!" He smirked and responded, "I know...I'm just resting up for them!" I grinned ear-to-ear as I ran past the hundreds of screaming co-eds, who screamed all the louder as they saw those of us so obviously renewed by their enthusiasm.

More to come tomorrow:) I know that my three loyal readers will be lying in wait with bated breath...