Photo by Carlos Jose’ Soto Tock
Wouldn’t you think after 26 marathons, a runner would be able to simply relax and get to sleep? Even after 7 previous Boston Marathons, this was still a big deal. I’m not fast by Boston standards but I am able to qualify. So yeah, it’s still a big deal to me and sleep won’t come easy Sunday night. I want to hold my own in my age group, my division. Trying to justify the anxiety is typically how the hours before race day is spent. Was it the discomfort that lie ahead based on the weather conditions, wind, cold, rain, all together in one day? All those elements in one day was new even to this experienced marathoner. What should be worn to keep my core temperature up and my hands, feet warm?
Photo by Carlos Jose’ Soto Tock
The nutrition aspect of the marathon doesn’t bother me anymore. I have a routine. Get up at 5:45 and eat ½ a raisin bagel with honey at 6 am. Take a 5 Hour Energy at 6:50 am to get my system moving. *This works every time so there is no bathroom worries on the course as I can’t drink coffee before a run. At 7:40 am, a Clif Bar. Morning snacking would end with ¾ of a banana at 9:15 am as the bus pulled into Athletes Village.
Ted and I were in the hotel room tuned into the local station watching news live at Hopkinton. The weather didn’t look bad but when we left the room at 8:05 am, it was a different story.
My final outfit for the conditions ahead was as follows. Vaseline and Glide under sports bra and on toes, feet and legs. Compression capri with high knee compression toe socks. I put plastic baggies over my socks. I had an old pair of sneakers to wear to Athletes Village and wrapped my race shoes (Hoka’s) in a plastic bag. A sports bra with a tank top. My outer layer was simply a red EMS rain resistant coat (the hood folded up so it wouldn’t act as a parachute in the wind), a fuel belt, a water proof baseball cap and water proof gloves purchased at North Face the Friday we arrived. The bib number was pinned chest level over the zipper on the red rain coat. There was no way that coat was coming off. I covered the baseball cap with a cheap blue wool hat for extra warmth.
To keep warm before the race, a sweat shirt, pants, old sneakers, a clear plastic garbage bag, and a yellow Marathon Tours rain cape, a thick leaf bag to sit on.
Photo by Carlos Jose’ Soto Tock
Ted walked with me to the buses at Boston Common. The wind and rain beating at us every step of the way. My pants got so wet, they were heavy on the bottom and began falling down. One porto stop before getting on the bus. I had an enjoyable conversation with a lady sitting next to me from Chicago. She was apprehensive how her day would go as she had been injured, only exercising on an elliptical trainer for the last 3 weeks. It seemed all runners had the same worries about whether their training would get them to the finish line in these conditions. When exiting the bus at Athletes Village, cold, wind and rain hit. The mud couldn’t be avoided. Tip toeing across the mud to the end line of porto potties and standing in wet grass made me grateful I had a change of sneakers. The announcer said 20 minutes until Wave 3 could leave.
I made my way behind the tents, on leaves, trying to avoid as much mud as possible. In a corner where two buildings came together there were 3 runners standing with a skid in front of them, acting as a shelf. I inched up and was welcomed in. I put my bags down, laid out the heavy garbage bag and changed my shoes, took off my wet pants. The plastic baggies were left on my feet in hopes they would keep my feet dry until they warmed up once running. Wave three was called.
I went to the potties close to the starting corrals to take off my sweatshirt. The clear garbage bag and yellow cape stayed with me as I still had 10 minutes to go. While waiting for us to start running, I was looking at what everyone was wearing. The variation in attire went from full out winter jackets to simple tanks, shorts and arm warmers. I toyed with keeping my garbage bag on until my body heated up but chose to trust my jacket would work well enough once warmed up. *I should have wrapped my hands in the plastic and run with it for as long as possible.
Within the first 5 miles my hands were soaking wet. Those water proof gloves were not so water proof. I tried to get my gel and chomps out of my fuel belt but the phone had trapped them at the bottom. The glove had to come off in order for me to get my gels. Got the glove off but couldn’t get it back on. Ate 3 chomps and put the rest plus one gel in my rain jacket pocket. My fingers were numb and the gloves were soaked. I started to panic and thought “What if I couldn’t get any more gels? My hands are frozen now, how will I ever make it 21 more miles? Just calm down. You won’t make it if you panic. All these other folk are as uncomfortable as you are. There will be Clif gels at mile 11 ½ and 17. Take deep breaths, there is nothing that can be done except to keep moving forward and try to relax. KEEP GOING! “
It was no good looking at my pace because I didn’t care. The goal was just to finish. At mile 10, another attempt to get a gel out of my pocket. I stopped at a porto potty to get out of the elements. Struggled to get my wet capris pulled back up, took ½ of the gel but there was no way one glove was going back on my hand, it had to hang off my fingers. On occasion, I thought I felt the baggy over my sock bunch up but it didn’t. I kept them on throughout the entire race and they didn’t cause any discomfort. Not sure they helped but I am glad they stayed on. I looked longingly at the medical tent wanting to stop so badly but thinking that everyone around me is running and I’m just cold, not hurt, not sick, just keep running. At mile 11 1/2 , the Clif Gels were being handed out. I took two, trying to hold onto them, dropping one after about a mile. My teeth proved unsuccessful in opening the gel and I was only able to squeeze a little bit out of the small slit. It was just going to be a carb-depletion run, trying to console myself with the thought that when marathons were first run, there was no such thing as gels.
Sights and sounds: There was a barefoot runner. There was a man in just shorts, no shirt. There were skinny runners in nothing but arm sleeves, tank tops and short race shorts. Runners with no socks and bleeding ankles. How could they not feel the cold when my body was shutting down? It was so cold that a guy in a Santa Claus suit sat along the course cheering us on (I think he is there every year?!). There were kids braving the cold, cheering us on with hands held high. The Wellesely screamers were out in full force. It was around Boston College where there was a noticeable lack of spectators from all previous years.
The rain and wind came in biting waves. It let up then down poured. Gusting wind, then let up. I truly believed it had to get better but it didn’t, the rain got heavier and the winds never died. I tried to look forward to conquering the hills as usual but my conquest resulted in only the first two. I was beaten and gave into a walk. Once I stopped to walk, I wondered if I would be able to run again being so stiff with cold. Somehow I was able to jog along, trying to focus on getting to Cleveland Circle. The joy of dropping into Cleveland Circle wasn’t the same as previous years. It offered no relief only large unavoidable puddles of water. Although there were only 4 miles to go, the effort was hard and the motivation gone. By mile 23 there was a strong urge to quit. My jaw was tight and aching. Hamstrings hurt, legs stiff and heavy with cold. Hereford was thickly littered with plastic bags, coats, gloves, all items that runners had used to block the elements. This was the very first Boston Marathon that I walked on Boylston street toward the finish line. It felt awful not having the desire nor strength to run to that finish line. Walk. Jog. Walk. Jog. I was done. Crossing that finish line never felt so good and so bad at the same time. I didn’t need water, just the heat sheet. The volunteer wrapped me in it so tight it was perfect but it didn’t stop the shivering.
Ted and I were supposed to meet at the church on the corner before Boston Common but I couldn’t make it. Instead, I cut right to the family meet and greet area, tempted to stop in the med tent as my body was shaking badly. Instead, I fumbled to get my phone and was only able to call Ted once I got into a tall glass building (200 Clarendon) where other runners were entering, seeking warmth. I was crying, shaking, feeling so cold. I wasn’t alone. Once Ted found me, we sat for 10 minutes before heading back outside towards the hotel.
After getting help peeling off wet clothes and getting into a very hot bath, I felt great. In fact, feeling that good after running a marathon makes you feel rotten like you didn’t give it all you had. It isn’t long before depression sets in as you begin to forget the discomfort and wonder it you’ll ever achieve your goal again. No doubt the weather factored into the results but was there a way to run this year in those conditions that would have enabled me to meet my goal?
Final result: 4:11:10. Finished 7307 out of all 11604 women. Finished 241 out of 669 in my age group.
Thoughts for future races if ever in these conditions again: Base layer should be sports tank with long sleeve shirt on top. Thick running tights with long injinji toe socks (cover legs and feet with Vaseline/Glide) and a waterproof sock over the top. Bring dry sneakers to change into before the race. Plastic gloves over the top of a large mitten to keep hands dry and enable me to get a wet mitten on and off with ease. Waterproof baseball cap with head band and hat. Waterproof rain jacket on top. Keep clear garbage bag on as long as possible. Try to put gels in a place that is accessible even with cold hands.
After the race, I thought never again will I run in those conditions but now I’ve had a week to think about it, I WOULD do it again but with better preparation.
Post race celebration libations regardless of disappointment…or maybe to drown my sorrows.
Honey Pot Sour. Not quite strong.
Red wine flight. Every one was good.
We enjoyed a light meal at Earls where I had the Honey Pot Sour. After walking a bit, we had a bit more to eat at Eataly. Such an interesting conglomeration of gourmet foods to buy and three different places to eat. This is where we enjoyed the flight of red wine.
I hope next year will be different race wise. As for our excursions and foods, the weekend was perfect. Thinking of looking into staying at either Lenox or Fairfield Copley next year.
Joanne
