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

Another day, another 13.1 mile report...Tuesday's admittedly long blog covered the first half of the 2009 Boston Marathon, and today's will cover the rest.

Mile 14: Before I knew it, I was crossing over the half-marathon mark, the chip pad beeping as I crossed it in 2:02.08, a 9:19/mile pace. I gave myself a quick break to stretch and drink, keeping to my standard every 3-mile plan, and knowing that at my next stretch break, I'd be coming up on the first of the Dana-Farber cheering sections, and my beloved. I tossed back the water thoughtfully provided by the BAA folks, washing down a decaf strawberry-banana Gu to replace some of my lost calories.

Mile 15: With more than 14 miles in the hatch, I couldn't help but realize someone was looking out for me. The sniffles of Thursday morning had held off from becoming a full-blown cold, thanks to a steady diet of FortiFense TheraFlu. The 2-inch gash across the bottom of my right foot, compliments of Copley attacking the vicious "Sweatpant Leg Monster" on Saturday night (right before she ate part of a Magic Eraser and I had to call poison control) was covered with a blister coating band-aid, and had I not know it was there...well, I wouldn't have known it was there. I was feeling healthy and strong.

Mile 16: By 16 I was starting to run out of steam. To keep myself going, I alternated between reminding myself that Derry had been fine, and that was 16 miles, and that as of a couple hours before the race, the Dana-Farber team had raised more than $3 million for cancer research.

Mile 17: At last, at long last, I was at the first of the Dana-Farber cheering sections, and my beloved was jumping in to run me the rest of the way home. I was ecstatic for a break, and ecstatic to see my favorite running partner whose enthusiasm was infectious, and just the spark I needed.

Mile 18: My bladder full, and more importantly (at least to me at the time) needing a quick rest, I was glad to realize the Newton firehouse was coming up. While the few people inside seemed surprised to see a bibbed runner, they graciously let me budge in the line for the bathroom.

Mile 19: Easing into Mile 19 brought me through thicker and thicker crowds, and past a set of speakers blaring "Eye of the Tiger." Jared started smiling and shadow-boxing, and I couldn't help but do the same, remembering my montage-like cross-training workouts.

Mile 20: Fatigued, I pulled Jared to the side of the course so I could stretch my aching legs. Knowing the big hill was yet to come, this seemed an ideal spot to grab a few minutes and ease the kinks out. Another runner coasted by us, and felt the need to ask me did I know that the medical tent was just up ahead? (WTF?! I was tired, not dying.) Jared gave him the stinkeye, and muttered, "thanks, but there's only one way to the finish line."

Mile 21: Heartbreak Hill was just ahead, my Everest, my wild ocean, my last big hurdle. The truth is that the Boston Marathon is exactly the way everyone describes it. After cresting the last of the big hills, Heartbreak, the hard part would be over for me, and at past 20 miles, I would only have to make it through a few flat miles to be done. I knew this, and with Jared encouraging me to keep going, to begin running after every tired walk, I made it up and over.

Mile 22: Spirits flagging a bit, and the strength of my legs, flagging in tandem, I started to slow again. A runner passing me tapped me on the back and yelled, "For Nathaniel!", who is my 4-year-old patient partner. Nathaniel is four years old, and after having had a neuroblastoma tumor removed at 3, is cancer-free. I looked at my beloved, and nearly started to cry. He and I like to joke that by his volunteering at Children's Hospital, and my fundraising for Dana Farber, we are building up good karma, and that we won't have to worry about our babies getting sick. Jared says I turned into a "werewolf" with that tap and statement. I'm not sure about that, but I did buckle down, and we got back to some running. Still, I wonder how I'd look as a medaled female teen wolf?

Mile 23: My beloved, recognizing my flagging energy, wasn't certain what to do, or what to think of the strangers high-fiving me. Soon, though, he got into the spirit, and began yelling and fist-pumping, pointing at me, and getting the crowd to yell and cheer even more as we passed. He nudged me over to high-five, and snatched orange slices for me to enjoy along the route. His enthusiasm was contagious, and I found myself digging deep to hash out the last few miles.

Mile 24: At last, the Citgo sign above Fenway came into sight. I knew with this that all I had to do was reach it, and there'd only be a mile to go. A mile to Fenway, and a mile to something even better...

Mile 25: At last! There it was! The sight I'd been looking for. As I bumped my aching legs up over the bridge before Fenway, my beloved at my side, I saw them--the Dana-Farber cheering section, complete with Jack, Jan, and the crew from the patient partner program. I found myself buoyed by their shouts of encouragement, and the smile that sprung from deep within me felt as though it could crack my face with its happiness. This group was the single most beautiful sight of the whole course--and I knew when I saw them that I could, and would, go on and finish strong. With a wave, we trotted on past, easing out of 25, and into what would be the last long mile of the day.

Mile 26: My beloved had pushed me through the last 8 miles, and all too soon it was time to part ways. We mapped out a plan of where to meet afterwards, and then he was squeezing my hand, and telling me not to quit, not to walk--that I was almost there. And I was, as soon enough the Hynes Convention Center was visible, the marker for the last turn onto Boylston.

.2: There it was, the finish line, with its curves of blue and gold arching above Boylston Street. I kicked in, wheezing out the last few block, from Hereford to Gloucester, through Franklin and Dartmouth, and at last, across the chirping chip pads, the sound of the announcer rattling off my name ringing in my ears.

The rest is pretty standard... I more or less staggered down the street with the other runners, where a quiet youth threw a silver "space blanket" over my shoulders. I kept walking along the runner's chute, stopping next to put my foot on a wooden block so a very nice, older man removed the chip from my shoe, before dropping a gloriously heavy medal over my neck. After picking up my bag from the bus, and a bagel and banana from the BAA volunteers, I was ready to head over to the Copley Marriot to meet my better half. After the squeezing and murmuring of lovers, I snagged two cookies and we hit the road for home.

Two free T rides later, we were drinking coffee, ordering Chinese food, and lounging on the couch. Ah...a day well spent.

Last year, I enjoyed running the marathon for Dana Farber, but this year...ah, this year, I fell in love a little.