Howdy sports fans, it's been a while. Last Sunday, a week before turning 47, I ran my 17th marathon and 6th Marine Corps Marathon. To cut to the chase, I ran a 3:15:52. Not my fastest (4th slowest), but definitely one of the easiest.
As you may recall, my last entry was prior to the Parks Half Marathon back in September. Wait, let me flash back even further. As you may also recall, when I started my marathon training this season with XMP ( the Montgomery County Road Runner's eXperienced Marathon Program), I knew it was going to be a recovery season. I did not put much expectation on running a PR -- my goal was just to complete a marathon without injury. When I started the program, I was in a slower pace group than I was used to. Although I missed my friends in my usual pace group, I kept saying to myself "this is all part of recovery." Of course, the positive benefit of running in a new pace group was getting to meet (and in some cases, re-meet) and run with new friends. As the summer wore on, I felt stronger and stronger. Indeed, as our Tuesday evening speedwork moved from the trails and to the track, I – or rather – my body did not want to run the slower speeds. I joined up with runners in my old pace group when on the track and did speed work approaching my old times. 800m repeats close to 6 minute pace; mile and 1000m repeats at 6:20s. I even began doing my long runs at 8:00s and even 7:45s.
Although I had no trouble with the speed work, I often found myself struggling at the end of the long run to hold the 7:45 pace. Of course, I wrote that off as being totally unrelated to running too fast. Typical me.
So when Parks Half Marathon rolled around, I thought to myself that perhaps I might be back to my old speed. Perhaps I could attempt a low or sub 3 hour at Marine Corps. Parks Half was an excellent testing ground. I decided to start out at a sub-3 marathon pace (6:50) and then if I felt good pick it up half way through. This meant running with the 1:30 pace group. Easy enough, I though.
Well, sports fans, Parks Half provided me with a much needed reality check. Keeping that 6:50 pace was not such a piece of cake! It took pretty much all I had just to hold within eye sight of the 1:30 pace group. I finished in 1:30:24 (a 6:54 pace) – about 4 ½ minutes slower than when I ran Parks before running my sub 3. When I put my time in my trusty McMillan pace calculator, it predicted a 3:15 marathon – which, as it turns out, is what I was thinking I should be targeting all along. Well, that just goes to show you how important a well-placed half marathon can be in a marathon training program.
One more quick Parks anecdote before ending this rather lengthy detour and returning to Marine Corps. In the last mile, I was picking up the pace, trying to finish strong. I was passing a number of other runners. I recall passing one runner (in a green singlet) around the 13 mile mark. He did not seem to be running that hard when I passed him. Anyhow, as I was approaching the finish line, I could hear the “slap” “slap” “slap” of shoes pounding the ground just off my left shoulder as the runner in green passed me right at the finish line. Once across, he promptly doubled over and began emptying the contents of his stomach on the pavement. “Dude,” I thought, “if you wanted to beat me THAT badly…”
Fast forward to last Sunday…Much wizened after Parks, I approached Marine Corps cautiously. I did not want to blow up. I did not want to crash and burn. In other words, I did not want a repeat of last spring’s Boston Marathon. I looked to my first Rehoboth Marathon in 2010 – run at LSD pace, run easy and finish strong. So I decided that 3:15 would be my goal. This translates to a 7:27 pace. I thought this should be eminently do-able. And there was an official “Pacers” pace group for 3:15. My goal, then, was to stick with that pace group – at least to the 14th Street Bridge and see how things went.
And stick to the pace group I did. The pacer – I think his name was Tommy or maybe Dave, I don’t remember – ran with a stick with a “3:15” sign and three red and white balloons. I ran right off his shoulder most of the race. And an easy race it was, I must say. Sticking with the pacer, I rarely looked at my watch – just let the group take me along. We probably had about 15 to 20 people with us at the start. By the half, we were down to about 10 or so.
This year, Marine Corps Marathon returned to an older course by eliminating the “extra” hill going around the reservoir and reintroducing Rock Creek Park. On the one hand, this was a welcome addition. Who wants another steep climb in the early miles of a marathon? And Rock Creek is simply much more enjoyable to run through. Both because you are in Rock Creek Park and because it was an out-and-back, enabling me to see (for the first time in ages) the front runners as they were on their return leg.
On the other hand, the course director (or someone) kind of screwed up on the mileage. Around mile 8, we all noticed that our Garmins measured a 1.3 mile “mile.” My guess is that they overshot the turn-around. We all assumed, and were assured by our pacer, that eventually there would be a 0.7 mile “mile” to compensate and that at the end of the day we were running 26.2 miles. Indeed, our Garmin pace showed us running a pretty even 7:23 pace. So when we hit the half way mark at 1:39:01 (overall pace of 7:34), we didn’t think too much of it (even though my Garmin had me at about 13.3 or so). (That half time tracks for a 3:18 marathon).
Anyhow, I was feeling nice and strong as we left Haines Point and began our up and back passed the Lincoln and then Washington and then Capitol. The weather was near perfect, the crowds spectacular, and my legs were feeling good.
Quick aside on the weather. At the start it was quite chilly. I was running in shorts and t-shirt and running hat. I draped myself in dry cleaning bags at the start to stay warm and had a pair of my sons old sweat socks on my hands as gloves – I figured I would discard them as I warmed up as the race progressed. And although my torso did warm up, my hands never did. I wore those socks on my hands the entire race!!
Another aside – what is the number one cardinal “No No” of marathon racing? Don’t try anything new on race day. Yours truly, sports fans, tried not one but two new things on race day! First, I had run out of chocolate GU during training. Instead of replacing it at my local running store (RnJ), I figured I would buy it at the Expo. Of course, by the time we hit the expo – late in the afternoon the day before the marathon – they were all out! Jordana suggested the only other alternative – chocolate flavored Cliff shots (I learned from Eagleman that I lack the coordination to run and eat the Cliff shot blocks which fuel me through the bike portion of triathlons). Without even tasting one, I bought six to use as fuel. As it turned out, this worked out OK. I am hard pressed to say whether I liked them more or less than GU, but I did not have any GI issues because of them. (Jordana got me a box of GU for my birthday).
The second “new” thing involved water. As you may recall, I ran Boston with my water belt. I decided I would run with Gatorade this time as well. But I did not want to run with a water belt and my bib belt. I have two small 4 oz water bottles with little clip on holders that fit along the water belt belt. I figured I would just attach those clips to my much much thinner bib belt. I figured I would just tighten the bib belt as much as I could bear and the water bottles would not joggle too much. I figured wrong!! Almost immediately, my bib belt loosened as much as it could go, and those two 4 oz water bottles were bouncing up and down like crazy! Crap!! I was not a half mile into a 26.2 mile race when I knew this would not work. So I undid the water bottles and stuck them in my waist band (between my skin and my UnderArmours). Not the most comfortable, but I had no other options (and I am too freaking cheap two discard perfectly good 4 oz water bottles, plus who knew if I could ever find replacements that would fit the clips?)
But I digest…By now we are running up Madison Lane towards the Capitol. I think there were about 10 of us in the pace group – some had dropped off, others had sped up. Our pace leader, Dave or Tommy or whoever, was asking us about our “stories.” Most were trying to qualify for Boston (a 40 -44 year old man needs to run a 3:15:00 or faster to qualify). I told them how I was recovering from injury and wanted to run a 3:15 to give myself a 10 minute cushion for Boston and allow me to register early. That prompted a few minutes of good-natured teasing about being the “old man” in the group, but that was just as quickly followed by comments of “not too shabby” to be a week shy of 47 and running a 3:15.
I should probably add that it was about this time when I saw what is probably my all-time favorite/funniest spectator sign. My previous favorite was "This is the worst parade ever." But this sign just made start laughing (which is not easy to do when running): "If the marathon were easy, it would be called 'your mother'." Images of Darrel Hammond doing his Sean Connery impression on the SNL Jeopardy sketched filled my head.
As we were running down Independence towards the 14th Street Bridge, our pace leader began telling us that if were feeling strong then we should start thinking about picking up the pace. He joked that even though he was our “friendly pace group leader,” he was still an asshole who would try to beat anyone in the group who was near him at the finish. We all laughed. But I did not want to be beat by him (although, he was a very nice guy and told some wonderful stories – whether true or not, they made the time fly and the miles pass by).
As we rounded onto 14th Street near the Washington Monument and headed towards the bridge, I started picking up the pace and began slowly putting distance between myself and the pace group. I try not to look back when I run (throws off the pace – I prefer to use turns as an opportunity to see the competition behind me), but I could hear our pace leader’s voice getting more and more into the distance. And I started gaining and then passing some of the members of our pace group who had split off much earlier.
When we hit the 14th Street Bridge, I was feeling really good. Whether I was actually running faster or whether it was just my perceived exertion, I did not care. By the time I hit Crystal City, I had passed most of the runners that I could remember were in the pace group. I was feeling strong and felt like I was still running faster.
At mile 24 (or 24.3 on my watch), I checked my Garmin and did some quick marathon-addled mental math. My overall pace was still 7:23 but unless there was a very “short” mile coming up, I was not going to hit a 3:15. So I picked up the pace even more. As I rounded the corner just past mile 26 that leads up the hill to the finish, I could see the clock turning 3:15. I put it into high gear and finished the marathon as strong as I ever did.
Final time: 3:15:52, 7:29 pace.
But what I was most pleased with was my second half split: 1:36:51 or 7:24 pace. That’s right, I actually ran negative splits! First time ever.
And I qualified for Boston.
But I do feel bad for the rest of the folks running in the 3:15 pace group. We never did see the “short” mile. The final distance on my Garmin read 26.54 miles (for an average pace of 7:23) but what can you do? While I know I did not run the perfect tangent and thus expect my Garmin distance to measure a little more than 26.2, it should not be THAT much. Indeed, most everyone I spoke with measured about the same over distance as well – and all noticed the long mile around mile 8. So there are a number of runners out there who probably did not meet their goal time, which is too bad.
But that is another lesson for you: it doesn’t matter what mileage your Garmin says, it only matters what the race course says. I always use manual laps triggered by the course’s mile marks. And when I am running for a goal time, I wear a pace band on my wrist to match my time with the course mile marks – I never rely on my Garmin when a goal time is on the line.
So, there you have it sports fans. My 17th marathon and 6th Marine Corps. 14th fast overall (and 5th fastest Marine Corps). Jordana pointed out that my first marathon (Marine Corps 2003) was a 3:16:17. “10 years later,” she quipped, “and you’re only 25 seconds faster !?!” I was 637th out of 23,513 finishers, 562nd out of 13,533 males, and 44th out of 1,711 in my age group. Not too shabby.
What next? Not another fall marathon. This is a recovery season and I’m not going to risk another marathon this fall. Still thinking about which spring marathon to run. As of now, I’m thinking trying to run that in the low 3’s and then either later in the spring or next fall attempt a sub-3.
In the immediate future, the turkey trot 10K in Virginia Beach, which I hope to run with Jordana and my two older cross-country running kids. Should be fun. So stay tuned, sports fans…
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Summer Runnin'
Originally posted to my Facebook page on September 1, 2013
Welcome back sports fans, it's been a while...
Where to start, where to start. When I last left you, it was Memorial Day weekend and here we are one summer later on Labor Day weekend.
So perhaps a better title for this would be "how I spent my summer vacation." Running and working.
As I mentioned in my last post, my time at the Memorial 4 miler placed me in 8:15-8:30 LSD pace group in XMP. Somewhat a shock from my normal pace group (7:45's) but I figured, hey this is a rebuilding season. Half of June, all of July, and most of August, I spent doing my long runs at an 8:15 pace. On Tuesdays, I did my speedwork at a commensurate pace (in June and July and early August, we don't do speedwork on the track -- instead we do Tuesday evenings on the Rock Creek bike path: repeats of the Silencer hill, repeats of the Morman Temple hill, or mile repeats at marathon pace). But as I would do my runs (or finish my runs), I would look longingly at my old pace group buddies. Reminding myself that running slower was what my body needed.
But as August progressed and our long runs increased in distance, I found it harder and harder to run 8:15s. More importantly, when we had our first night at the track (4 x 1600m at lactate threshold (or 10K) pace), I knew I couldn't run at an 8:15 pace. Luckily, there were some others who had been running in my group also rehabing from injury. That first night at the track, Noam came up to me and whispered "I just can't run the LT pace for the 8:15 pace group, want to run 6:30's?" Oh joy! Chrissy came over: "what are you running?" "Noam and I are thinking 6:30s." "I'm in." And so we did -- it was like manna from heaven to open up my stride. Last week, we did Yasso 800s (6 x 800m at VO2max) -- we decided to run the 800s in 3:05s. Again, it felt so good.
Then this past weekend, I ran with my old 7:45 buddies for our 22 miler (the 3 bridges run according to the official XMP email even though we only cross 2 bridges: Key Bridge and 14th Street Bridge, still trying to figure out the 3rd bridge...) Running with Dan and Mike and Argaw. It's been since, what, August 2012 that I've run with them? That I've run this pace? It felt so good to run at that pace. Was it tiring? Yeah. It was a bit of a struggle the last mile or so (from the River Road overpass). But I did it. And this morning, I did not feel overly sore (or at least no more sore than I've off-and-on felt since returning to training in March).
This coming weekend is the Parks Half Marathon. The big question is what am I going to do? Part of me is encouraged by my track and distance work. See how fast I can go (to quasi-paraphrase Viv Savage: go as fast as I can for as long as I can). On the other hand, I'm not training for a half marathon, I'm training for a marathon (but then I would have to ask the same question for the latter -- what am I going to do at Marine Corps?), so perhaps I should take it a bit easy. Since beginning XMP, I've thought that my goal for Marine Corps is not to try another PR this season but to stick to my plan of recovery season (let 2014 be my attempt at another PR). I think I'll try for something between 3:10 and 3:15. So maybe at Parks, I'll try for a half marathon pace that will predict a 3:10 marathon. In other words, shoot for sub 1:30 (but not too much sub 1:30).
We'll see...
Welcome back sports fans, it's been a while...
Where to start, where to start. When I last left you, it was Memorial Day weekend and here we are one summer later on Labor Day weekend.
So perhaps a better title for this would be "how I spent my summer vacation." Running and working.
As I mentioned in my last post, my time at the Memorial 4 miler placed me in 8:15-8:30 LSD pace group in XMP. Somewhat a shock from my normal pace group (7:45's) but I figured, hey this is a rebuilding season. Half of June, all of July, and most of August, I spent doing my long runs at an 8:15 pace. On Tuesdays, I did my speedwork at a commensurate pace (in June and July and early August, we don't do speedwork on the track -- instead we do Tuesday evenings on the Rock Creek bike path: repeats of the Silencer hill, repeats of the Morman Temple hill, or mile repeats at marathon pace). But as I would do my runs (or finish my runs), I would look longingly at my old pace group buddies. Reminding myself that running slower was what my body needed.
But as August progressed and our long runs increased in distance, I found it harder and harder to run 8:15s. More importantly, when we had our first night at the track (4 x 1600m at lactate threshold (or 10K) pace), I knew I couldn't run at an 8:15 pace. Luckily, there were some others who had been running in my group also rehabing from injury. That first night at the track, Noam came up to me and whispered "I just can't run the LT pace for the 8:15 pace group, want to run 6:30's?" Oh joy! Chrissy came over: "what are you running?" "Noam and I are thinking 6:30s." "I'm in." And so we did -- it was like manna from heaven to open up my stride. Last week, we did Yasso 800s (6 x 800m at VO2max) -- we decided to run the 800s in 3:05s. Again, it felt so good.
Then this past weekend, I ran with my old 7:45 buddies for our 22 miler (the 3 bridges run according to the official XMP email even though we only cross 2 bridges: Key Bridge and 14th Street Bridge, still trying to figure out the 3rd bridge...) Running with Dan and Mike and Argaw. It's been since, what, August 2012 that I've run with them? That I've run this pace? It felt so good to run at that pace. Was it tiring? Yeah. It was a bit of a struggle the last mile or so (from the River Road overpass). But I did it. And this morning, I did not feel overly sore (or at least no more sore than I've off-and-on felt since returning to training in March).
This coming weekend is the Parks Half Marathon. The big question is what am I going to do? Part of me is encouraged by my track and distance work. See how fast I can go (to quasi-paraphrase Viv Savage: go as fast as I can for as long as I can). On the other hand, I'm not training for a half marathon, I'm training for a marathon (but then I would have to ask the same question for the latter -- what am I going to do at Marine Corps?), so perhaps I should take it a bit easy. Since beginning XMP, I've thought that my goal for Marine Corps is not to try another PR this season but to stick to my plan of recovery season (let 2014 be my attempt at another PR). I think I'll try for something between 3:10 and 3:15. So maybe at Parks, I'll try for a half marathon pace that will predict a 3:10 marathon. In other words, shoot for sub 1:30 (but not too much sub 1:30).
We'll see...
All in the Family
Catching up on blog posts. This was posted to my Facebook account in June 2013:
Howdy sports fans. Last Monday was Memorial Day. What better way to spend it than run a 4 miler? The MCRRC Memorial 4 miler.
Now as some of you may recall, this was one of the first races I ran when I began marathon training back in 2003. This was the third time I've run this race. It would also be my first "speed" run since last summer before getting injured (I've been focusing on rebuilding distance).
Even better, the whole family (well, almost the whole family) was running as well! My oldest was running the 4 miler with me, and the two younger kids were running the mile. Jordana would be watching the gear (and the younger kids when they finished).
It was fun showing the kids our running friends (Jordana knew probably half of the people there!). As I walked to the start line with my oldest, she asked "are those your fast running friends?" "yes" I said as I introducted her. Then we headed to the start and I tried to give her a few last minute pointers.
All too soon, it was time to start. The starter shouted "GO" and we were off. As this was my first short distance race in A LONG TIME I wasn't quite sure what pace to go. I thought I'd try to stay just off the shoulder of my running mates. The first mile is a steep downhill down a residential street, then a sharp left into Rock Creek Park. As a result, we were running at a pretty quick clip. Unfortunately, the course narrows dramatically as it enters the park and I was not positioned to stay right off my friends' shoulders and I watched them gain ground as I was caught behind some slower runners. Once we reached the Rock Creek Trail proper I was able to pick up the pace again.
I cruised through the second and third miles pretty easily, although I could tell I was not used to running that fast for that long. Highlights incluced seeing my daughter as we passed each other twice on the various out-and-backs. She looked pretty strong with nice running form. Curious what she thought of her "old man" speeding along...
Remember that steep downhill at the start? Well, that means a steep uphill at the finish! Why do they do that? Anyhow, I was -- struggling is not the right word -- pushing to keep up my pace as I climbed towards the finish. The nice thing was that my pelvic area was not hurting. I finished in a respectable 26:02 for a 6:31 overall pace.
On the one hand, I was pretty happy with my time. It was my first foray back into speed since my injury AND my pelvic region was never sore during the race. On the other hand, I was a little disappointed with my time. Pre-injury, I could run a 6:30 pace for an entire half marathon, and could run a 10K at a 6:10-6:15 pace. So I was much slower than I know I can run. But, as a friend reminded me, I am on the come back and should not put too much stock into my first short distance race.
Meanwhile, I grabbed a quick cup of gatorade and headed back onto the course to pick up my oldest and run her in. I was a little worried at where she might be. This would be the longest she's raced (in middle school, cross country is 3K or 1.86 miles) and perhaps what she's run in recent weeks (she and Jordana usually run 2 or 3 miles two or so times a week). And it was hot. I am happy to note that I picked her up with only 1/2 mile to go. She was running pretty strong and in good form (she said her ankle was sore, but that is probably due to not have raced/run this distance). I helped her up the hill. And she finished strong with a 37:44. Not bad for little training.
Meanwhile, the younger two ran the 1 mile race (downhill 1/2 mile then back uphill 1/2 mile -- cruel for little kids). My son finished a close second. He learned a valuable lesson -- don't look over your shoulder near the finish to see where your competition is, it only breaks your stride!! They didn't time the mile, but Jordana thinks he may have run sub 8 minutes (maybe close to a 7:30) but we're not sure. Not bad for 11 years old. And the 8 year old run a sub-11 minute mile (we think). Good job Ashe family!!!
So, all in all, it was a good day. The kids ran well. My pelvic region did not hurt. Curious in which XMP pace group a 26:02 4 miler will put me.
Stay tuned sports fans...
Howdy sports fans. Last Monday was Memorial Day. What better way to spend it than run a 4 miler? The MCRRC Memorial 4 miler.
Now as some of you may recall, this was one of the first races I ran when I began marathon training back in 2003. This was the third time I've run this race. It would also be my first "speed" run since last summer before getting injured (I've been focusing on rebuilding distance).
Even better, the whole family (well, almost the whole family) was running as well! My oldest was running the 4 miler with me, and the two younger kids were running the mile. Jordana would be watching the gear (and the younger kids when they finished).
It was fun showing the kids our running friends (Jordana knew probably half of the people there!). As I walked to the start line with my oldest, she asked "are those your fast running friends?" "yes" I said as I introducted her. Then we headed to the start and I tried to give her a few last minute pointers.
All too soon, it was time to start. The starter shouted "GO" and we were off. As this was my first short distance race in A LONG TIME I wasn't quite sure what pace to go. I thought I'd try to stay just off the shoulder of my running mates. The first mile is a steep downhill down a residential street, then a sharp left into Rock Creek Park. As a result, we were running at a pretty quick clip. Unfortunately, the course narrows dramatically as it enters the park and I was not positioned to stay right off my friends' shoulders and I watched them gain ground as I was caught behind some slower runners. Once we reached the Rock Creek Trail proper I was able to pick up the pace again.
I cruised through the second and third miles pretty easily, although I could tell I was not used to running that fast for that long. Highlights incluced seeing my daughter as we passed each other twice on the various out-and-backs. She looked pretty strong with nice running form. Curious what she thought of her "old man" speeding along...
Remember that steep downhill at the start? Well, that means a steep uphill at the finish! Why do they do that? Anyhow, I was -- struggling is not the right word -- pushing to keep up my pace as I climbed towards the finish. The nice thing was that my pelvic area was not hurting. I finished in a respectable 26:02 for a 6:31 overall pace.
On the one hand, I was pretty happy with my time. It was my first foray back into speed since my injury AND my pelvic region was never sore during the race. On the other hand, I was a little disappointed with my time. Pre-injury, I could run a 6:30 pace for an entire half marathon, and could run a 10K at a 6:10-6:15 pace. So I was much slower than I know I can run. But, as a friend reminded me, I am on the come back and should not put too much stock into my first short distance race.
Meanwhile, I grabbed a quick cup of gatorade and headed back onto the course to pick up my oldest and run her in. I was a little worried at where she might be. This would be the longest she's raced (in middle school, cross country is 3K or 1.86 miles) and perhaps what she's run in recent weeks (she and Jordana usually run 2 or 3 miles two or so times a week). And it was hot. I am happy to note that I picked her up with only 1/2 mile to go. She was running pretty strong and in good form (she said her ankle was sore, but that is probably due to not have raced/run this distance). I helped her up the hill. And she finished strong with a 37:44. Not bad for little training.
Meanwhile, the younger two ran the 1 mile race (downhill 1/2 mile then back uphill 1/2 mile -- cruel for little kids). My son finished a close second. He learned a valuable lesson -- don't look over your shoulder near the finish to see where your competition is, it only breaks your stride!! They didn't time the mile, but Jordana thinks he may have run sub 8 minutes (maybe close to a 7:30) but we're not sure. Not bad for 11 years old. And the 8 year old run a sub-11 minute mile (we think). Good job Ashe family!!!
So, all in all, it was a good day. The kids ran well. My pelvic region did not hurt. Curious in which XMP pace group a 26:02 4 miler will put me.
Stay tuned sports fans...
Friday, May 3, 2013
Boston Marathon Recap
Howdy sports fans: now for the only post I was planning to write about the Boston Marathon...
For starters, let's just get everything out in the open -- I ran the slowest of my 16 marathons on April 15, a 3:43:48. Oh well -- just a bit slower than my first Boston in 2004 (when the starting temperature was in the mid to upper 80s).
But I'm getting ahead of myself. The weekend started out with an uneventful flight to Boston. Jordana and I checked in to our hotel (near the TD Center) and then hit the expo to get our race packets.
After getting our bibs and shirts, we toured the expo. While there I met running legend Bart Yasso of the Yasso 800s.
After the expo, we took the T to the Italian district for a delicious pasta dinner. According to some of the kids in the restaurant, the owner of the Florida Marlins (they were playing the Sox) was also a dinner guest.
The next day (Sunday), we were up early to watch the Invitational Mile -- local high school kids race, followed by elites. It was cold and windy but very exciting. There was a huge Jumbotron hanging downtown near the finish that allowed you to text a message. Hmmm....
After watching the milers, we went back to the expo. We spent the better part of the day walking around the various booths and attending some very interesting lectures. I met the Boston Marathon race director, Dave McGillivray -- a very interesting man. He was always the last picked in school for sports because of his size, but grew up to run a very competitive marathon.
Then we listened to the legends of Boston, including Bart Yasso, Bill Rodgers, Katherine Switzer, and Amby Burfoot.
Followed by Dean Karnazes -- ultramarathon guru. It was a fun day. We went back to the hotel to drop off our stuff and then headed out to the official pre-race pasta party with our club friends Jackie, Patricia, Bob, and Giovanna.
Then off to bed.
Marathon day dawned bright and cool -- race forecast called for near perfect conditions (mid to upper 50s). We made our PB&Js and packed up our drop bags and headed off to Boston Commons for the buses to Hopkinton.
Hopkinton was a lot of fun. The club (Montgomery County Road Runners) had staked out an area (conveniently near the porta-johns). We dropped our gear and spent a pleasant hour or two waiting until it was time to head to the start line.
All too soon, it was time to head to the start. I was in Wave 1 which started at 10, Jordana was in Wave 3 which started at 10:40. We gave each other a good luck kiss and I was off for the 1/2 mile or so walk to the start line and specifically, corral #5.
At Boston, your Wave and Corral assignments are based on your qualifying time -- basically starting everyone who runs about the same marathon time near each other. My qualifying time of 3:02 was from Marine Corps 2011. I was nowhere near capable of running that fast this day. I thought about starting further back, but, hey, I busted my ass to run that qualifying time and I'd be damned if I wasn't going to start in my assigned corral!!!
Anyhow, soon enough it was 10:00. The gun went off and we started....walking. Yep. Corral number 5 means there were about 4000 runners in front of me that had to cross the start line before I could. It took about 2 minutes or so of walking before I crossed the timing mats, started my watch, and began the 117th running of the Boston Marathon (my 4th).
As I mentioned in previous notes, I decided to run this one somewhat conservatively. I was more worried about my pubic bones than I was my lack of training. I also experimented by running with my water bottle -- I still took water/gatorade at the water stops but I didn't want to feel limited to those stations if I was feeling thirsty. More importantly, I wanted to take my gu's on a 45 minute schedule rather than try to time them to water stations. Anyhow, I went out between 7:30 and 7:45. To be honest, I didn't look at my watch that much and decided to run more on perceived exertion. My 5K split was 23:38 which put me at a 7:37 pace. About right between where I wanted to be.
I spent a lot of time giving high fives and taking pictures. Here are a few along the course as I passed through Ashland
and Framingham
and Natick
For most of the first half, I was pretty consistent with my time. Hit the 10K split at 47:28 for a 7:39 pace. Hit 15K at 1:11:38 for a 7:42 pace. Passed 20K at 1:36:19 for a 7:46 split. Okay, Okay, my times were slowly drifting, but I really didn't care. I was having a fun time. Somewhere before Wellesley, I did start feeling some twinges in my pubic area. I didn't really slow down that much, knowing the course would take care of that for me.
As I said, I was having fun. Soon I was entering
Wellesley. And that means only one thing -- coeds! Screaming, cheering coeds. I was also taking video (which for some reason I can't seem to upload into my notes). Suffice it to say that it took 4 Bostons for me to draw up enough courage to kiss a Wellesley girl. But I made up for it by kissing 4 different girls along the way. It was a lot of fun.
But all too soon we were passed Wellesley college and into the town proper. I crossed the half-way point in 1:41:47 -- a 7:46 pace. I only needed to maintain a 7:49 overall pace to run a BQ (3:25), so I was feeling pretty good about myself. My pubic bone felt less sore. But my quads and my adductors were feeling increasingly sore. You see, the first half of Boston is net downhill and your quads take a pounding absorbing all that impact. I wasn't tired, I was just sore.
Meanwhile, I kept running on and soon left Wellesley for
Newton. Now Newton means only one thing -- hills. From about mile 15 until about mile 21, the course takes you on a series of increasingly challenging uphills, culminating in Heartbreak Hill between around mile 20 and 21. My quads are really starting to hurt now, and the pubic bones were getting a little sore. My times reflect this. My 25K split was 2:01:35 for a 7:50 overall pace (bye bye BQ). And my 30K split was 2:29:04 for an even 8:00 overall pace. Definitely bye bye BQ.
My lack of quality training was definitely taking its toll on my legs. I took my first walking break around mile 16. I started to walk at the beginning of the water station and walked through the station, resuming running at the end of the station. I did this again around mile 20 just before Heartbreak Hill began. As tired and sore and under-trained as I was, I was determined to run, however slowly, up Heartbreak Hill. And guess what? I did. It took what seemed like forever, but I ran up and over Heartbreak.
Having crested Heartbreak, it's all downhill. Just about a 10K to go. The course now descends into Brookline and crowds start really getting thick.
As difficult as going up Heartbreak is, some consider it even more painful going down. Your quads are shot and here you have a lovely downhill that you are too sore to take advantage of. But to be honest, I did pick up a bit of pace going down into Brookline. But once the course elevation leveled off, I was back to what felt like a plodding pace. I was actually concerned that I might have to walk the entire rest of the race. My 35K split was 2:58:42 or an 8:14 overall pace (can you believe I finished the entire Rehoboth Marathon in about that time, and here I still had several miles to go!). I took another walking break with around mile 23. Resuming running after that break was so painful in the quads that I resolved that I would not walk until after crossing the finish line (for fear of just totally cramping up!) Instead, I kept getting slower and slower. My 40K split was 3:30:11 for an overall pace now of 8:28.
But the miles were ticking away. I kept waiting for it. Where was it? The sign that said you're almost done. The CITGO sign! Yes! There it was; there it mercifully was...
The CITGO sign means only one thing -- about a mile left.
Of course, I had one more hill to go. The course (with less than about 3/4 of a mile to go) goes down and up an underpass (where the course goes under Massachusetts Ave). It's not a very big hill -- more like a dip in the road. But after 25+ miles, with totally blown quads, it is a most unkind hill. But down and up I went. Then the right turn onto Hereford Street, and the left onto Boylston!
Boylston Street! Yeehaw! A little over a quarter mile to go. There is something magical about that street. All the pain in your quads and calfs and shins and pubic bones and wherever, all the tiredness, it all just seems to disappear. The finish line is in sight. The crowds are screaming and cheering. And your pace picks up. I was feeling great and finished strong. 3:43:48 -- for an overall pace of 8:33. My slowest marathon ever!
It wasn't fast. It wasn't pretty. But I was done. I finished. I ran better than I thought I would and I ran worse than I thought I would.
I ran better because there were times since last September that I thought I'd never run again, let alone run a marathon. Hell, there were a few moments during the race that I was worried if I'd be able to finish. And here I was, I'd finished Boston.
But I also ran worse that I thought. It was my slowest marathon by far -- slower even than in 2004 when I ran Boston in the upper 80's/low 90's. As happy as I was that I finished with only a few twinges in my pubic bone, I was disappointed in my time. I did not run a BQ, I did not even run faster than my then slowest time. You have to respect the course -- it is very difficult. By all rights, I should not have even been running. I had not run a single hill since July 2012 before I got injured. I had done one, only one, 20 miler as part of my training. Hell, 16 weeks out I was barely running 8 mile long runs. I think I had maybe one, maybe two weeks with mileage over 40. I was sorely undertrained, and it showed.
But, but, you have to focus on the positive. Always have multiple goals. I had three goals -- I did not achieve two of them, but I did achieve probably the most important...
I came back from a pre-stress fracture to the left femoral neck and stress fracture to the pubic symphysis and finished, under my own power, the Boston Marathon.
And that, friends, is what really mattered.
For starters, let's just get everything out in the open -- I ran the slowest of my 16 marathons on April 15, a 3:43:48. Oh well -- just a bit slower than my first Boston in 2004 (when the starting temperature was in the mid to upper 80s).
But I'm getting ahead of myself. The weekend started out with an uneventful flight to Boston. Jordana and I checked in to our hotel (near the TD Center) and then hit the expo to get our race packets.
After getting our bibs and shirts, we toured the expo. While there I met running legend Bart Yasso of the Yasso 800s.
After the expo, we took the T to the Italian district for a delicious pasta dinner. According to some of the kids in the restaurant, the owner of the Florida Marlins (they were playing the Sox) was also a dinner guest.
The next day (Sunday), we were up early to watch the Invitational Mile -- local high school kids race, followed by elites. It was cold and windy but very exciting. There was a huge Jumbotron hanging downtown near the finish that allowed you to text a message. Hmmm....
After watching the milers, we went back to the expo. We spent the better part of the day walking around the various booths and attending some very interesting lectures. I met the Boston Marathon race director, Dave McGillivray -- a very interesting man. He was always the last picked in school for sports because of his size, but grew up to run a very competitive marathon.
Then we listened to the legends of Boston, including Bart Yasso, Bill Rodgers, Katherine Switzer, and Amby Burfoot.
Followed by Dean Karnazes -- ultramarathon guru. It was a fun day. We went back to the hotel to drop off our stuff and then headed out to the official pre-race pasta party with our club friends Jackie, Patricia, Bob, and Giovanna.
Then off to bed.
Marathon day dawned bright and cool -- race forecast called for near perfect conditions (mid to upper 50s). We made our PB&Js and packed up our drop bags and headed off to Boston Commons for the buses to Hopkinton.
Hopkinton was a lot of fun. The club (Montgomery County Road Runners) had staked out an area (conveniently near the porta-johns). We dropped our gear and spent a pleasant hour or two waiting until it was time to head to the start line.
All too soon, it was time to head to the start. I was in Wave 1 which started at 10, Jordana was in Wave 3 which started at 10:40. We gave each other a good luck kiss and I was off for the 1/2 mile or so walk to the start line and specifically, corral #5.
At Boston, your Wave and Corral assignments are based on your qualifying time -- basically starting everyone who runs about the same marathon time near each other. My qualifying time of 3:02 was from Marine Corps 2011. I was nowhere near capable of running that fast this day. I thought about starting further back, but, hey, I busted my ass to run that qualifying time and I'd be damned if I wasn't going to start in my assigned corral!!!
Anyhow, soon enough it was 10:00. The gun went off and we started....walking. Yep. Corral number 5 means there were about 4000 runners in front of me that had to cross the start line before I could. It took about 2 minutes or so of walking before I crossed the timing mats, started my watch, and began the 117th running of the Boston Marathon (my 4th).
As I mentioned in previous notes, I decided to run this one somewhat conservatively. I was more worried about my pubic bones than I was my lack of training. I also experimented by running with my water bottle -- I still took water/gatorade at the water stops but I didn't want to feel limited to those stations if I was feeling thirsty. More importantly, I wanted to take my gu's on a 45 minute schedule rather than try to time them to water stations. Anyhow, I went out between 7:30 and 7:45. To be honest, I didn't look at my watch that much and decided to run more on perceived exertion. My 5K split was 23:38 which put me at a 7:37 pace. About right between where I wanted to be.
I spent a lot of time giving high fives and taking pictures. Here are a few along the course as I passed through Ashland
and Framingham
and Natick
For most of the first half, I was pretty consistent with my time. Hit the 10K split at 47:28 for a 7:39 pace. Hit 15K at 1:11:38 for a 7:42 pace. Passed 20K at 1:36:19 for a 7:46 split. Okay, Okay, my times were slowly drifting, but I really didn't care. I was having a fun time. Somewhere before Wellesley, I did start feeling some twinges in my pubic area. I didn't really slow down that much, knowing the course would take care of that for me.
As I said, I was having fun. Soon I was entering
Wellesley. And that means only one thing -- coeds! Screaming, cheering coeds. I was also taking video (which for some reason I can't seem to upload into my notes). Suffice it to say that it took 4 Bostons for me to draw up enough courage to kiss a Wellesley girl. But I made up for it by kissing 4 different girls along the way. It was a lot of fun.
But all too soon we were passed Wellesley college and into the town proper. I crossed the half-way point in 1:41:47 -- a 7:46 pace. I only needed to maintain a 7:49 overall pace to run a BQ (3:25), so I was feeling pretty good about myself. My pubic bone felt less sore. But my quads and my adductors were feeling increasingly sore. You see, the first half of Boston is net downhill and your quads take a pounding absorbing all that impact. I wasn't tired, I was just sore.
Meanwhile, I kept running on and soon left Wellesley for
Newton. Now Newton means only one thing -- hills. From about mile 15 until about mile 21, the course takes you on a series of increasingly challenging uphills, culminating in Heartbreak Hill between around mile 20 and 21. My quads are really starting to hurt now, and the pubic bones were getting a little sore. My times reflect this. My 25K split was 2:01:35 for a 7:50 overall pace (bye bye BQ). And my 30K split was 2:29:04 for an even 8:00 overall pace. Definitely bye bye BQ.
My lack of quality training was definitely taking its toll on my legs. I took my first walking break around mile 16. I started to walk at the beginning of the water station and walked through the station, resuming running at the end of the station. I did this again around mile 20 just before Heartbreak Hill began. As tired and sore and under-trained as I was, I was determined to run, however slowly, up Heartbreak Hill. And guess what? I did. It took what seemed like forever, but I ran up and over Heartbreak.
Having crested Heartbreak, it's all downhill. Just about a 10K to go. The course now descends into Brookline and crowds start really getting thick.
As difficult as going up Heartbreak is, some consider it even more painful going down. Your quads are shot and here you have a lovely downhill that you are too sore to take advantage of. But to be honest, I did pick up a bit of pace going down into Brookline. But once the course elevation leveled off, I was back to what felt like a plodding pace. I was actually concerned that I might have to walk the entire rest of the race. My 35K split was 2:58:42 or an 8:14 overall pace (can you believe I finished the entire Rehoboth Marathon in about that time, and here I still had several miles to go!). I took another walking break with around mile 23. Resuming running after that break was so painful in the quads that I resolved that I would not walk until after crossing the finish line (for fear of just totally cramping up!) Instead, I kept getting slower and slower. My 40K split was 3:30:11 for an overall pace now of 8:28.
But the miles were ticking away. I kept waiting for it. Where was it? The sign that said you're almost done. The CITGO sign! Yes! There it was; there it mercifully was...
The CITGO sign means only one thing -- about a mile left.
Of course, I had one more hill to go. The course (with less than about 3/4 of a mile to go) goes down and up an underpass (where the course goes under Massachusetts Ave). It's not a very big hill -- more like a dip in the road. But after 25+ miles, with totally blown quads, it is a most unkind hill. But down and up I went. Then the right turn onto Hereford Street, and the left onto Boylston!
Boylston Street! Yeehaw! A little over a quarter mile to go. There is something magical about that street. All the pain in your quads and calfs and shins and pubic bones and wherever, all the tiredness, it all just seems to disappear. The finish line is in sight. The crowds are screaming and cheering. And your pace picks up. I was feeling great and finished strong. 3:43:48 -- for an overall pace of 8:33. My slowest marathon ever!
It wasn't fast. It wasn't pretty. But I was done. I finished. I ran better than I thought I would and I ran worse than I thought I would.
I ran better because there were times since last September that I thought I'd never run again, let alone run a marathon. Hell, there were a few moments during the race that I was worried if I'd be able to finish. And here I was, I'd finished Boston.
But I also ran worse that I thought. It was my slowest marathon by far -- slower even than in 2004 when I ran Boston in the upper 80's/low 90's. As happy as I was that I finished with only a few twinges in my pubic bone, I was disappointed in my time. I did not run a BQ, I did not even run faster than my then slowest time. You have to respect the course -- it is very difficult. By all rights, I should not have even been running. I had not run a single hill since July 2012 before I got injured. I had done one, only one, 20 miler as part of my training. Hell, 16 weeks out I was barely running 8 mile long runs. I think I had maybe one, maybe two weeks with mileage over 40. I was sorely undertrained, and it showed.
But, but, you have to focus on the positive. Always have multiple goals. I had three goals -- I did not achieve two of them, but I did achieve probably the most important...
I came back from a pre-stress fracture to the left femoral neck and stress fracture to the pubic symphysis and finished, under my own power, the Boston Marathon.
And that, friends, is what really mattered.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
What I saw at the finish
Hello sports fans, as promised, I will attempt to relate what I saw and experienced during the terrorist attack at the Boston Marathon finish on April 15, 2013.
I was in Wave 1/Corral 5, which meant I started at 10 am. My wife, Jordana, was in Wave 3/Corral 1, which started at 10:40am. As I will recount in a later note on the race itself, I ran my slowest marathon -- a 3:43:48. I finished, then, around 1:43. Once you cross the finish line, you pass tables with water, then tables with gatorade. Then you get your space blanket, then you medal. Then you pass tables with post-race food, after which you head to the bag buses.
I had done all that, gone to my bag bus and retrieved my drop bag. I had put on my sweatpants and sweatshirt, retrieved my cell phone, and even called my Mom to say that I had finished. It was about 2:20 by now.
Before the race, either on Sunday or on the bus to Hopkinton, Jordana had mentioned that her principal (or maybe it was the head of the IB team) hoped that they could get some pictures of her running to post at her high school. I joked that we'd have to break down and fork out the money for some MarathonFoto professional shots. But I also mentioned that maybe I'd take some pictures of her, since I had planned to run with a camera. Indeed, during the early part of the marathon I thought that maybe I'd go back to the finish line to take pictures of Jordana as she crossed -- what else was I going to do.
As it turned out, I ran much slower than I thought and there was not a lot of time before I expected Jordana to finish. So I stood near the intersection of Boylston and Berkley Streets, just past the food tables and just before the baggage buses (see finish line map above). I figured I would be able to meet up with Jordana as she headed to get her drop bag. Indeed, I saw several of my MCRRC friends pass by -- Ken, Julie, and Bill. We exchanged pleasantries and "how did it go" and they went on to get their bags and then the bar where the club runners were all going to meet.
Jordana had thought that maybe she might run around a 3:50 or so, but had gotten an IT band injury three weeks before the race so didn't know how fast she would go. I figured that her pride would drive her to at least run sub-4:00 even if she were having an off race.
So there I was, leaning against a structure in the middle of the intersection gazing down Boylston in the direction of the finish line. Scanning the oncoming runners for Jordana. I figured she had finished by now if she ran as she planned, but who knew...
Then I heard a tremendous BOOM and saw a large white-grey cloud billow up over and around the finish line apparatus. A few seconds later, I heard another BOOM and saw another ominous white-grey cloud a little further behind the finish line.
Below is a picture of the finish line taken the day before.
As you can see, there is a large structure right at the finish that the runners run under (the structure, among other things, holds the various marathon photographers taking pictures of the runners). Because of that, I could not see the fireball caused by the explosions. Nor could I see any victims. All I could see was the smoke from the explosion. If you look at the map above, the first explosion occurred just in front of the finish line (about where the second yellow arrow was located). The second explosion occurred further away, just past the edge of the map.
At the first explosion, I thought: was that some sort of ceremonial cannon going off? But they never did that in the past 3 Bostons I had ran. Maybe it was an electrical generator or transformer that had blown -- I recalled seeing lots of electrical equipment around the finish -- powering sound systems, the timing mats, jumbotron. Honestly, friends, the thought that what I saw and heard was a bomb was not even in the realm of possibilities in my mind.
But when the second explosion went off...then I knew this is not good. Sort of like on 9/11 -- when the first plane hit, you thought horrible accident. But when the second one hit, you knew everything had changed. Same here. For 12 seconds, I thought horrible accident. Then it became, oh my God, those were bombs. Indeed, other runners around me with smartphones all started commenting -- those were bombs.
There was confusion and unsubstantiated rumors began flying past my ears -- hundreds dead, no dead, hundreds wounded, no one hurt. Nobody knew anything. The yellow jacketed volunteers were as in the dark as we were. But strangely there was no panic -- no mass running. The runners kept moving on, moving past, obviously trying to get to safety, but there was no panic.
Almost immediately after the second blast, the sirens came. You could hear them on both side streets. I could see them at the finish line, through the smoke, only 2 1/2 blocks away.
At second number 13, I snapped out of my confusion. One thought now filled my brain: where was Jordana? where was my wife? Was she safe? Was she hurt? Was she...no, I refused to allow myself to continue down that line of thought. I don't believe in ESP but something told me that she had crossed the finish line -- I kept looking at my watch, doing the mental math. She had to have finished. But where was she? A mass of silver blanketed runners kept streaming past -- I could not advance up Boylston. The side streets were no easier -- firetrucks and ambulances were racing down them. But in any event I had no idea where she was, how to find her.
I looked and searched and worried. I climbed up a lifeguard stand for a better view but had to come down because it had to be moved out of the way for rescue vehicles. She had no phone. How would I find her? I knew she would be scared. Did she think I went to the finish line?
I don't know if it was 5 or 10 minutes. It was the longest, scariest time of my life. Then my cell phone started buzzing with a number I did not recognize. Part of me did not want to answer the phone -- what if it was that dreaded call no one ever wants to receive? I pushed that thought out and answered the phone. It was Jordana -- she was crying. "I'm scared. What's happening? Please get me." "Where are you?" I asked. "I don't know," she sobbed, "I'm lost. I don't know where I am." "I'm near the bag buses" I say, "Can you tell me what street you are on?" "I don't know." "Give the phone to its owner, maybe they know" "St James I think" and then the call dropped.
Thank God - she was safe, and she knew I was safe. I knew she was on St. James street, whereever that was. I found a yellow jacketed volunteer and asked where St. James was. It was the next street over (see the above map). But where along that street? I walked down Berkley street towards St. James. Race staff were yelling into megaphones to clear the street (St. James, that is) as rescue vehicles raced down.
It was at this point that I saw the only instance of panic. All of the sudden, I turned around and looked in the direction of Boylston. There was screaming and people running for the lives down Boylston away from the finish line -- some kept running down Boylston, others turned on Berkely and ran past me. I felt a wave of panic but struggled to remain calm. I had to find Jordana -- she was somewhere out here, scared, waiting for me. But where. Meanwhile, that panicked crowd dissipated within a minute and the strange quasi-calm among the people returned.
I resumed scanning the streets. I walked back to Boylston to Jordana's bag bus (about halfway between Berkely and Arlington Streets on Boylston). I asked if her bag was still there, maybe she found her way. No, the bag was still there. Meanwhile, I keep pressing redial over and over -- trying to call the number she called me from. But no signal. I knew everyone was trying to call -- overloading the system. I was shouting out her name over the noise "Jordana! Jordana!"
I walked back to Berkley and headed back to the intersection at St. James. I was just about to climb up a barricade for a better view when I saw her on the other side of the intersection. She was wrapped in her silver heat blanket sobbing, a yellow-jacketed volunteer had her arm around her trying to comfort her. I hope I never see that sight again. I ran across the street and took her from the volunteer. "Take me away from here." she said, "I don't want to meet up with our friends. I just want to go back to the hotel. I just want to go home." "It's OK" I said, "we're safe. Let's get your bag." "Forget my bag, let's just go." "We have to walk past it to get to Boston Commons."
So we walked up Berkely to Boylston to her bag bus. We retrieved her drop bag. She was shivering, so I made her put her sweats on. I grabbed her gear and we started walking towards Boston Commons. Every so often, I turned and looked behind me -- in the growing distance, the finish line was ablaze with the flashing blue lights of emergency vehicles.
As we were walking, Jordana was able to give me details of where she was. She had crossed the finish line only about 10 minutes before the bombs went off. She kept saying that if she had stopped to walk . . . But you didn't stop, I would remind her. Anyhow, she had just received her medal when the first bomb went off. If you look at the map of the finishers area (above), she was about 2 blocks away from the first bomb. (I was at the intersection of Boylston and Berkely, about 1/2 block further away.)(Today, Jordana and I were watching and rewatching the FBI surveillance videos of the finish area. The videos show both bombers still with their backpacks at time stamps 14:37:34-45. Jordana crossed the finish line at 14:38:39. Thus, Jordana ran past both bombers as they were about to place the bombs!) She turned around to see what happened and saw the second explosion further down. As with me, the structures at the finish line prevented her from seeing anything more than the white-grey cloud of smoke. She said that almost immediately, security personnel were rushing to the scene. The barricades that separated the runner's area from the sidewalks in the finishers area were removed and runners were directed off Boylston. She said it was very confusing, but thinks she was directed through Copley Square onto St. James. She was scared and frightened. She had no phone and no way to contact me. She was worried that I might have gone to the finish line to take pictures of her. Jordana said that she asked several runners if she could borrow their phone to try and call me. The first time, she could not get through. The runner hugged her and said everything would be OK. Then they were separated in the confusion. Jordana asked at least one more runner if she could borrow his phone. That time she was able to get a connection and we were able to talk with each and know that each of us was safe.
These small acts of kindness are what struck me about the day. Yesterday (Thursday), a colleague forwarded me a video on CNN. http://www.cnn.com/video/?hpt=hp_t2#/video/us/2013/04/17/pkg-kaye-acts-of-heroism.cnn The video was entitled Acts of Heroism. At 1:40 into the video, CNN interviews a runner by the name of Julie Jeske. The narrator notes that she had finished about 10 minutes before the bomb blast and lent her phone to a runner franticly searching for her husband. Ms. Jeske says she gave the runner a hug and assured her everything would be OK and that her husband was safe. Then the video went on to interview others. That was the same time as Jordana. I forwarded the video and, indeed, Jordana recognized the woman. Amazing. Using the BAA's results page, I was able to learn the town where Ms. Jeske lived. I googled it and sent her the following email. I won't deny that my eyes welled as I typed the email.
I wrote:
To my surprise and pleasure, Julie replied back. She wrote:
Really, it was the least I could do -- these strangers, who probably were as much worried and scared as Jordana, did not have to stop, did not have to lend their cellphones to a stranger, did not have to give a brief moment's comfort. But they did. And that means worlds.
Back to the story. It wasn't long before we reached Boston Commons (which was along the way to our hotel). I took out my blackberry and somehow was able to get through to my Mom. She proceeded to describe in detail what she was hearing on CNN: that it was a terrorist attack; two bombs; at least three dead; hundreds wounded; airports closed; subway shutdown; bridges and tunnels in and out of Boston on lockdown. I assured her we were OK. Meanwhile, our personal cellphones were buzzing away with incoming texts from friends wanting to make sure we were OK. But the Verizon network was jammed and we could not send out any reply texts saying we were safe. Somehow, I was able to get emails out with my blackberry. I took a picture of Jordana and I with our medals in Boston Commons, and emailed it to my folks, Jordana's folks, and our siblings.
Meanwhile, my brother posted on Facebook: "Many thanks for inquiries about my brother and his wife. They finished the Boston Marathon and are safely on their way home. Our thoughts are with those hurt in what appear to be deliberate attacks." And tagged our names. At least our friends on Facebook would know that we were OK. Indeed, Rebecca, a friend at work, sent this email to my division: Subject: Greg is fine. Message: Leah just told me about at the attacks at the Boston Marathon. From Greg's facebook page: and she repeated my brother's post." So at least, word was getting out through the confusion to our friends and family back home that we were safe.
Now, all was not total gloom. Here, I think, is a somewhat amusing anecdote of when I tried to call my own family. I was trying without luck to call my older daughter. Her phone would ring once or twice, but then the calls kept dropping. Eventually, the call connected. "What?" my almost 14 year old asked in a somewhat exasperated voice. "Why do you keep calling and hanging up!?!" I replied, "H***, I wasn't sure if you had heard there were some explosions near the finish line. Mommy and I are safe. We're heading back to our hotel" Nonplussed, she replied (and I'm paraphrasing somewhat), "OK, great, anything else? Bye." Okay -- didn't want to interrupt whatever her busy 8th grade life! Relatedly, when we finally got home, the first thing my 11 year old son said upon seeing us was "Dad! The Nationals are beating the Marlins 10 - 0!" To her credit, I don't think my 13 year old knew what was going on when I first called. About an hour later, I got a text from her: "The bombing is all over the news and social media and call this number if you see anything suspicious 617-222-1212." Great, from unconcerned teenage to McGruff the Crime Dog! These anecdotes were a welcome respite to an otherwise anxious afternoon.
We finally made it back to our hotel. Keep in mind, we had both just run 26.2 miles on a very grueling Boston course. Our legs (quads particularly) were shot. So this was a slow and somewhat painful walk. Back at the hotel, we and other runners were gathered around the hotel computer and TV in the lobby watching CNN trying to learn what was happening. The front desk called the airport for us and we learned that, in fact, the airport was not shut down (the airspace over finish area was restricted). We also learned the T was not shutdown (only the Green line). A cab driver also confirmed that the bridges and tunnels in and out Boston were not, in fact, on lockdown. But we didn't know if that would last.
We were supposed to fly out at 8 that night, but decided to just get to the airport and see if we could catch an earlier flight. Our cab ride went without incident. At the USAir desk, the agent said there was a 6pm flight available (it was now around 5pm) and that given what we had went through he waived the $75 per ticket change fee. Of course, Jordana was still in somewhat of shock and fear -- questioning everyone if security was being increased. I tried to reassure her that flying was probably as safe right now as it would ever be. We got through security and to the boarding gate. The agents allowed all the marathoners (there were a few of us) to pre-board. Jordana was a little nervous (sometimes very nervous) during the flight. Every bit of turbulence threatened tears. "I just want to get off this plane and get out of the airport in DC then I'll feel safe" I tried to calm her down "We're fine," I said "for whatever reason the terrorists targeted the marathon; not planes, not subways. We're safe. Besides, if you get too frantic they'll make an emergency landing and we don't want that!" Indeed, at one point during the flight the flight attendant came over to me and asked, somewhat seriously, "is your wife OK? does she need anything?" "She's OK" I assured the attendant, "maybe a glass of water." Needless to say, the flight was uneventful. We landed at National. Took the shuttle to our car, and drove home.
We were very glad to walk in the door and hug our kids. Almost as glad as the hot showers we took later, to finally wash off the days blood, sweat, and tears.
Since then, we (as with most everyone else -- race participants and others alike) have been trying to process what happened. Would we ever run a large marathon again? On the plane, Jordana swore she'll never do another one again but I doubt she means it. I've been largely distracted at work --- spending an inordinate amount of time on CNN watching developments. I've been mostly successful in avoiding the game of mental what ifs. What if she had run slower? What if I had gone to the finish line to take pictures? Writing these notes has been helpful.
And as my legs become less sore, my mind becomes more at ease. And my determination to run more marathons has not faltered. I won't be running Boston next year. Not because of two "stunted little people" to quote our President. But for more mundane reasons -- it falls on Passover next year and (and to my chagrin) I haven't run a Boston qualifying time yet for 2014. Because that is what Boston really is about: striving and pushing yourself to the limit to run that qualifying time. But don't worry, I'll run Boston again sometime in the future. To again quote our President "you can bet on it!"
I was in Wave 1/Corral 5, which meant I started at 10 am. My wife, Jordana, was in Wave 3/Corral 1, which started at 10:40am. As I will recount in a later note on the race itself, I ran my slowest marathon -- a 3:43:48. I finished, then, around 1:43. Once you cross the finish line, you pass tables with water, then tables with gatorade. Then you get your space blanket, then you medal. Then you pass tables with post-race food, after which you head to the bag buses.
I had done all that, gone to my bag bus and retrieved my drop bag. I had put on my sweatpants and sweatshirt, retrieved my cell phone, and even called my Mom to say that I had finished. It was about 2:20 by now.
Before the race, either on Sunday or on the bus to Hopkinton, Jordana had mentioned that her principal (or maybe it was the head of the IB team) hoped that they could get some pictures of her running to post at her high school. I joked that we'd have to break down and fork out the money for some MarathonFoto professional shots. But I also mentioned that maybe I'd take some pictures of her, since I had planned to run with a camera. Indeed, during the early part of the marathon I thought that maybe I'd go back to the finish line to take pictures of Jordana as she crossed -- what else was I going to do.
As it turned out, I ran much slower than I thought and there was not a lot of time before I expected Jordana to finish. So I stood near the intersection of Boylston and Berkley Streets, just past the food tables and just before the baggage buses (see finish line map above). I figured I would be able to meet up with Jordana as she headed to get her drop bag. Indeed, I saw several of my MCRRC friends pass by -- Ken, Julie, and Bill. We exchanged pleasantries and "how did it go" and they went on to get their bags and then the bar where the club runners were all going to meet.
Jordana had thought that maybe she might run around a 3:50 or so, but had gotten an IT band injury three weeks before the race so didn't know how fast she would go. I figured that her pride would drive her to at least run sub-4:00 even if she were having an off race.
So there I was, leaning against a structure in the middle of the intersection gazing down Boylston in the direction of the finish line. Scanning the oncoming runners for Jordana. I figured she had finished by now if she ran as she planned, but who knew...
Then I heard a tremendous BOOM and saw a large white-grey cloud billow up over and around the finish line apparatus. A few seconds later, I heard another BOOM and saw another ominous white-grey cloud a little further behind the finish line.
Below is a picture of the finish line taken the day before.
As you can see, there is a large structure right at the finish that the runners run under (the structure, among other things, holds the various marathon photographers taking pictures of the runners). Because of that, I could not see the fireball caused by the explosions. Nor could I see any victims. All I could see was the smoke from the explosion. If you look at the map above, the first explosion occurred just in front of the finish line (about where the second yellow arrow was located). The second explosion occurred further away, just past the edge of the map.
At the first explosion, I thought: was that some sort of ceremonial cannon going off? But they never did that in the past 3 Bostons I had ran. Maybe it was an electrical generator or transformer that had blown -- I recalled seeing lots of electrical equipment around the finish -- powering sound systems, the timing mats, jumbotron. Honestly, friends, the thought that what I saw and heard was a bomb was not even in the realm of possibilities in my mind.
But when the second explosion went off...then I knew this is not good. Sort of like on 9/11 -- when the first plane hit, you thought horrible accident. But when the second one hit, you knew everything had changed. Same here. For 12 seconds, I thought horrible accident. Then it became, oh my God, those were bombs. Indeed, other runners around me with smartphones all started commenting -- those were bombs.
There was confusion and unsubstantiated rumors began flying past my ears -- hundreds dead, no dead, hundreds wounded, no one hurt. Nobody knew anything. The yellow jacketed volunteers were as in the dark as we were. But strangely there was no panic -- no mass running. The runners kept moving on, moving past, obviously trying to get to safety, but there was no panic.
Almost immediately after the second blast, the sirens came. You could hear them on both side streets. I could see them at the finish line, through the smoke, only 2 1/2 blocks away.
At second number 13, I snapped out of my confusion. One thought now filled my brain: where was Jordana? where was my wife? Was she safe? Was she hurt? Was she...no, I refused to allow myself to continue down that line of thought. I don't believe in ESP but something told me that she had crossed the finish line -- I kept looking at my watch, doing the mental math. She had to have finished. But where was she? A mass of silver blanketed runners kept streaming past -- I could not advance up Boylston. The side streets were no easier -- firetrucks and ambulances were racing down them. But in any event I had no idea where she was, how to find her.
I looked and searched and worried. I climbed up a lifeguard stand for a better view but had to come down because it had to be moved out of the way for rescue vehicles. She had no phone. How would I find her? I knew she would be scared. Did she think I went to the finish line?
I don't know if it was 5 or 10 minutes. It was the longest, scariest time of my life. Then my cell phone started buzzing with a number I did not recognize. Part of me did not want to answer the phone -- what if it was that dreaded call no one ever wants to receive? I pushed that thought out and answered the phone. It was Jordana -- she was crying. "I'm scared. What's happening? Please get me." "Where are you?" I asked. "I don't know," she sobbed, "I'm lost. I don't know where I am." "I'm near the bag buses" I say, "Can you tell me what street you are on?" "I don't know." "Give the phone to its owner, maybe they know" "St James I think" and then the call dropped.
Thank God - she was safe, and she knew I was safe. I knew she was on St. James street, whereever that was. I found a yellow jacketed volunteer and asked where St. James was. It was the next street over (see the above map). But where along that street? I walked down Berkley street towards St. James. Race staff were yelling into megaphones to clear the street (St. James, that is) as rescue vehicles raced down.
It was at this point that I saw the only instance of panic. All of the sudden, I turned around and looked in the direction of Boylston. There was screaming and people running for the lives down Boylston away from the finish line -- some kept running down Boylston, others turned on Berkely and ran past me. I felt a wave of panic but struggled to remain calm. I had to find Jordana -- she was somewhere out here, scared, waiting for me. But where. Meanwhile, that panicked crowd dissipated within a minute and the strange quasi-calm among the people returned.
I resumed scanning the streets. I walked back to Boylston to Jordana's bag bus (about halfway between Berkely and Arlington Streets on Boylston). I asked if her bag was still there, maybe she found her way. No, the bag was still there. Meanwhile, I keep pressing redial over and over -- trying to call the number she called me from. But no signal. I knew everyone was trying to call -- overloading the system. I was shouting out her name over the noise "Jordana! Jordana!"
I walked back to Berkley and headed back to the intersection at St. James. I was just about to climb up a barricade for a better view when I saw her on the other side of the intersection. She was wrapped in her silver heat blanket sobbing, a yellow-jacketed volunteer had her arm around her trying to comfort her. I hope I never see that sight again. I ran across the street and took her from the volunteer. "Take me away from here." she said, "I don't want to meet up with our friends. I just want to go back to the hotel. I just want to go home." "It's OK" I said, "we're safe. Let's get your bag." "Forget my bag, let's just go." "We have to walk past it to get to Boston Commons."
So we walked up Berkely to Boylston to her bag bus. We retrieved her drop bag. She was shivering, so I made her put her sweats on. I grabbed her gear and we started walking towards Boston Commons. Every so often, I turned and looked behind me -- in the growing distance, the finish line was ablaze with the flashing blue lights of emergency vehicles.
As we were walking, Jordana was able to give me details of where she was. She had crossed the finish line only about 10 minutes before the bombs went off. She kept saying that if she had stopped to walk . . . But you didn't stop, I would remind her. Anyhow, she had just received her medal when the first bomb went off. If you look at the map of the finishers area (above), she was about 2 blocks away from the first bomb. (I was at the intersection of Boylston and Berkely, about 1/2 block further away.)(Today, Jordana and I were watching and rewatching the FBI surveillance videos of the finish area. The videos show both bombers still with their backpacks at time stamps 14:37:34-45. Jordana crossed the finish line at 14:38:39. Thus, Jordana ran past both bombers as they were about to place the bombs!) She turned around to see what happened and saw the second explosion further down. As with me, the structures at the finish line prevented her from seeing anything more than the white-grey cloud of smoke. She said that almost immediately, security personnel were rushing to the scene. The barricades that separated the runner's area from the sidewalks in the finishers area were removed and runners were directed off Boylston. She said it was very confusing, but thinks she was directed through Copley Square onto St. James. She was scared and frightened. She had no phone and no way to contact me. She was worried that I might have gone to the finish line to take pictures of her. Jordana said that she asked several runners if she could borrow their phone to try and call me. The first time, she could not get through. The runner hugged her and said everything would be OK. Then they were separated in the confusion. Jordana asked at least one more runner if she could borrow his phone. That time she was able to get a connection and we were able to talk with each and know that each of us was safe.
These small acts of kindness are what struck me about the day. Yesterday (Thursday), a colleague forwarded me a video on CNN. http://www.cnn.com/video/?hpt=hp_t2#/video/us/2013/04/17/pkg-kaye-acts-of-heroism.cnn The video was entitled Acts of Heroism. At 1:40 into the video, CNN interviews a runner by the name of Julie Jeske. The narrator notes that she had finished about 10 minutes before the bomb blast and lent her phone to a runner franticly searching for her husband. Ms. Jeske says she gave the runner a hug and assured her everything would be OK and that her husband was safe. Then the video went on to interview others. That was the same time as Jordana. I forwarded the video and, indeed, Jordana recognized the woman. Amazing. Using the BAA's results page, I was able to learn the town where Ms. Jeske lived. I googled it and sent her the following email. I won't deny that my eyes welled as I typed the email.
I wrote:
Julie,
We've never met, but you met my wife on Monday. I was watching video on cnn.com (Boston Bombings: Acts of Heroism). You were interviewed in which you mentioned you had lent your phone to a frantic runner searching for her husband. That was my wife, Jordana. THe narrator mentioned that you had finished about 10 minutes before the bombs, as did my wife. I forwarded a link of the video to my wife and she recognized you.
I just wanted to say thank you for letting her borrow your phone and for comforting her."
I had started in Wave 1 and was waiting for her near the baggage buses when the bombs went off. Jordana was scared that I had gone to the finish line to watch her. We found each other and made it home safely.
I've always believed that running brings out the best in people, and that marathoners are one large extended family. Monday confirmed that.
Again, thank you for your kindness to my wife. Congratulations on finishing the marathon. And best of luck in your next race!
Regards,
Gregory Ashe
To my surprise and pleasure, Julie replied back. She wrote:
I am so glad to hear you are alright. Your safety has weighed heavily on my mind. I think about how we witnessed the worst of humanity and the best of humanity in 12 short seconds. I am humbled by your email as it was such a small gesture to comfort someone who was so distraught.Shortly after the email exchange, I dialed the number of the phone on which Jordana was able to get through to me. It went to the voicemail of Neil Gottlieb. I left a message thanking him for his kindness.
Take care and thank you so much for reaching out to me.
Julie
Really, it was the least I could do -- these strangers, who probably were as much worried and scared as Jordana, did not have to stop, did not have to lend their cellphones to a stranger, did not have to give a brief moment's comfort. But they did. And that means worlds.
Back to the story. It wasn't long before we reached Boston Commons (which was along the way to our hotel). I took out my blackberry and somehow was able to get through to my Mom. She proceeded to describe in detail what she was hearing on CNN: that it was a terrorist attack; two bombs; at least three dead; hundreds wounded; airports closed; subway shutdown; bridges and tunnels in and out of Boston on lockdown. I assured her we were OK. Meanwhile, our personal cellphones were buzzing away with incoming texts from friends wanting to make sure we were OK. But the Verizon network was jammed and we could not send out any reply texts saying we were safe. Somehow, I was able to get emails out with my blackberry. I took a picture of Jordana and I with our medals in Boston Commons, and emailed it to my folks, Jordana's folks, and our siblings.
Meanwhile, my brother posted on Facebook: "Many thanks for inquiries about my brother and his wife. They finished the Boston Marathon and are safely on their way home. Our thoughts are with those hurt in what appear to be deliberate attacks." And tagged our names. At least our friends on Facebook would know that we were OK. Indeed, Rebecca, a friend at work, sent this email to my division: Subject: Greg is fine. Message: Leah just told me about at the attacks at the Boston Marathon. From Greg's facebook page: and she repeated my brother's post." So at least, word was getting out through the confusion to our friends and family back home that we were safe.
Now, all was not total gloom. Here, I think, is a somewhat amusing anecdote of when I tried to call my own family. I was trying without luck to call my older daughter. Her phone would ring once or twice, but then the calls kept dropping. Eventually, the call connected. "What?" my almost 14 year old asked in a somewhat exasperated voice. "Why do you keep calling and hanging up!?!" I replied, "H***, I wasn't sure if you had heard there were some explosions near the finish line. Mommy and I are safe. We're heading back to our hotel" Nonplussed, she replied (and I'm paraphrasing somewhat), "OK, great, anything else? Bye." Okay -- didn't want to interrupt whatever her busy 8th grade life! Relatedly, when we finally got home, the first thing my 11 year old son said upon seeing us was "Dad! The Nationals are beating the Marlins 10 - 0!" To her credit, I don't think my 13 year old knew what was going on when I first called. About an hour later, I got a text from her: "The bombing is all over the news and social media and call this number if you see anything suspicious 617-222-1212." Great, from unconcerned teenage to McGruff the Crime Dog! These anecdotes were a welcome respite to an otherwise anxious afternoon.
We finally made it back to our hotel. Keep in mind, we had both just run 26.2 miles on a very grueling Boston course. Our legs (quads particularly) were shot. So this was a slow and somewhat painful walk. Back at the hotel, we and other runners were gathered around the hotel computer and TV in the lobby watching CNN trying to learn what was happening. The front desk called the airport for us and we learned that, in fact, the airport was not shut down (the airspace over finish area was restricted). We also learned the T was not shutdown (only the Green line). A cab driver also confirmed that the bridges and tunnels in and out Boston were not, in fact, on lockdown. But we didn't know if that would last.
We were supposed to fly out at 8 that night, but decided to just get to the airport and see if we could catch an earlier flight. Our cab ride went without incident. At the USAir desk, the agent said there was a 6pm flight available (it was now around 5pm) and that given what we had went through he waived the $75 per ticket change fee. Of course, Jordana was still in somewhat of shock and fear -- questioning everyone if security was being increased. I tried to reassure her that flying was probably as safe right now as it would ever be. We got through security and to the boarding gate. The agents allowed all the marathoners (there were a few of us) to pre-board. Jordana was a little nervous (sometimes very nervous) during the flight. Every bit of turbulence threatened tears. "I just want to get off this plane and get out of the airport in DC then I'll feel safe" I tried to calm her down "We're fine," I said "for whatever reason the terrorists targeted the marathon; not planes, not subways. We're safe. Besides, if you get too frantic they'll make an emergency landing and we don't want that!" Indeed, at one point during the flight the flight attendant came over to me and asked, somewhat seriously, "is your wife OK? does she need anything?" "She's OK" I assured the attendant, "maybe a glass of water." Needless to say, the flight was uneventful. We landed at National. Took the shuttle to our car, and drove home.
We were very glad to walk in the door and hug our kids. Almost as glad as the hot showers we took later, to finally wash off the days blood, sweat, and tears.
Since then, we (as with most everyone else -- race participants and others alike) have been trying to process what happened. Would we ever run a large marathon again? On the plane, Jordana swore she'll never do another one again but I doubt she means it. I've been largely distracted at work --- spending an inordinate amount of time on CNN watching developments. I've been mostly successful in avoiding the game of mental what ifs. What if she had run slower? What if I had gone to the finish line to take pictures? Writing these notes has been helpful.
And as my legs become less sore, my mind becomes more at ease. And my determination to run more marathons has not faltered. I won't be running Boston next year. Not because of two "stunted little people" to quote our President. But for more mundane reasons -- it falls on Passover next year and (and to my chagrin) I haven't run a Boston qualifying time yet for 2014. Because that is what Boston really is about: striving and pushing yourself to the limit to run that qualifying time. But don't worry, I'll run Boston again sometime in the future. To again quote our President "you can bet on it!"
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Reflections on Boston 2013
What do you say about a day that started out with great race conditions? Upper 40s, little wind, going up into the 50s. Then, some time over 4 hours into the race, two horrific blasts near the finish line mar that wonderful experience.
In my next note, I'll describe my experience at the finish (about 2 blocks or so away). But for now, I wanted to share the words of Amby Burfoot. Amby is one of the editors of Runner's World and he won the Boston Marathon in the late 60s. The day before, Jordana and I attended a seminar at the expo entitled Legends of Boston: Amby and several other Boston greats (including Katherine Switzer and Bill Rogers) talked about Boston in the "good old days." He was out there on the course with me yesterday, and was one of the thousands of runners who did not finish because the race was closed after the explosions.
Amby writes:
Burfoot's words just resonated with me. Running is the sport of the everyman. You don't need special talent to participate. Just drive, willingness, endurance, stamina, and mental toughness. Running crosses the color line, gender line, nationalities, religion. There is no black or white, Christian or Jew or Muslim, male or female, American or British or East African or Japanese. Just fellow runners. Sure we engage in healthy competition -- but we are all friends on the race course. When you pass a fellow runner who is hurting, you invariably call out "hang in there!" or "looking in strong!" We all want each other to succeed. To get that PR to qualify for Boston. Because your success in no way diminishes mine. Everyone toeing the start line of a race -- be it the marathon or triathlon or 10K or 5K -- truly is a winner already. The medal or the t-shirt is just an afterthought, icing on the cake.
The coward or cowards who perpetrated this attack mean less than nothing to me. Flies I bat away and ignore. They will not stop me from running, from racing. My body may break down or I may get more injuries keeping me from competing in the sport I love. But no person or crackpot ideology is going to prevent me from toeing the start line of my next race.
And don't let them stop you either, sports fans. The roads and trails and paths belong to us.
In my next note, I'll describe my experience at the finish (about 2 blocks or so away). But for now, I wanted to share the words of Amby Burfoot. Amby is one of the editors of Runner's World and he won the Boston Marathon in the late 60s. The day before, Jordana and I attended a seminar at the expo entitled Legends of Boston: Amby and several other Boston greats (including Katherine Switzer and Bill Rogers) talked about Boston in the "good old days." He was out there on the course with me yesterday, and was one of the thousands of runners who did not finish because the race was closed after the explosions.
Amby writes:
This wasn’t just an attack against the Boston Marathon. It was an attack against the American public and our democratic use of the streets. We have used our public roadways for annual parades, protest marches, presidential inaugurations, marathons, and all manner of other events. The roads belong to us, and their use represents an important part of our free and democratic tradition.
I trust and believe that will not change in the future--not in Boston, not at the Boston Marathon, and not at other important public events. Yes, we must be ever-vigilant. We can not cover our eyes and ears, and pretend violent acts don’t threaten our great institutions.
But our institutions did not become great by following a path of timidity and cowardice. And we can only hope that, when pummeled, as the Boston Marathon was today, they will rise again, stronger than ever.
Burfoot's words just resonated with me. Running is the sport of the everyman. You don't need special talent to participate. Just drive, willingness, endurance, stamina, and mental toughness. Running crosses the color line, gender line, nationalities, religion. There is no black or white, Christian or Jew or Muslim, male or female, American or British or East African or Japanese. Just fellow runners. Sure we engage in healthy competition -- but we are all friends on the race course. When you pass a fellow runner who is hurting, you invariably call out "hang in there!" or "looking in strong!" We all want each other to succeed. To get that PR to qualify for Boston. Because your success in no way diminishes mine. Everyone toeing the start line of a race -- be it the marathon or triathlon or 10K or 5K -- truly is a winner already. The medal or the t-shirt is just an afterthought, icing on the cake.
The coward or cowards who perpetrated this attack mean less than nothing to me. Flies I bat away and ignore. They will not stop me from running, from racing. My body may break down or I may get more injuries keeping me from competing in the sport I love. But no person or crackpot ideology is going to prevent me from toeing the start line of my next race.
And don't let them stop you either, sports fans. The roads and trails and paths belong to us.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Gettin' Ready for Boston
Howdy sports fans, it's been a while. Thought I'd drop a brief note in advance of this Monday's Boston Marathon.
My last marathon was May 2012 (not my best performance either). I'm starting to wonder if maybe I overdid things in 2011 -- highest mileage year evah, lots of races (4 marathons, one half ironman, two olympic triathlons, half marathon) -- and things caught up to me last summer. Hmmmm, something to think about.
Meanwhile, the training has been going well. As I mentioned previously, I've been doing a very conservative return to running. Starting in early December, I've been slowly building back my base and my mileage. I'll worry about speed later. I went from 3 miles 3 times a week to a weekly base of 6 miles 4 times a week + long run. And my long run schedule has been a very conservative build up of 2 additional miles per long run: I started out with a 6 mile "long" run, then 8, then 10, 12, 14, 16, 18, and yes one 20 miler, then back to 16 and then 10 this past Sunday. I haven't run more than about 45 miles max per week. And as I said, forget about speedwork: at best, I've done a few low 7's "tempo" runs. I think I may have done one run sub 7. But no true speedwork. My goal, of course, is just to start and finish Boston on Monday.
When I started my long run progression, I'd like to say that my pubic area was A-OK. But there was still some low level soreness. Nothing sharp or debilitating. Sort of a mild dull ache -- the kind of pressury ache you feel when you have to urinate and are holding it in. It would either go away after a few miles, or I just got used to it. BUT, my final 16 miler and definitely the 10 miler I ran last Sunday actually felt good. I don't think (or can't remember) feeling that dull ache. I'm not going to press my luck on that.
I think the bone stimulator I've been using every night is finally paying off. At my last orthopedist visit, he prescribed a bone stimulator. It's a small ultrasound transponder (about the size of half-dollar) that I place over the pubic symphysis for 20 minutes. According to the Exogen website, 20 minutes of ultrasound a day helps accelerate the healing of bone related injuries. So there you have it.
Anyhoo, Boston is Monday. What are my goals? My primary goal is simply to start and finish the race under my own power. I'm hopeful I've done enough training to accomplish that. To be honest, I've probably put in about as much mileage as I did before I started doing XMP or Boston Bound with MCRRC -- and I finished several marathons in decent time training at low mileage. So I'm mostly confident that I'll achieve the goal of finishing.
My next goal is to not run my slowest marathon. That means running faster than I did in the 2004 Boston Marathon. That year (when they still had the noon start) it was in the upper 80s near 90 at the start and only got hotter. I ran a 3:45. So, I'd like to run at least a 3:44 if not faster.
My last goal is to run a BQ (i.e., a Boston qualifying time). Ahhh the advantages of age -- as a 47 year old male, I need to run a 3:25 to qualify for Boston. That's about 25 minutes slower than I was doing pre-2nd injury, which translates to about 1 minute per mile slower pace. I put this as my last goal because, frankly, I'm not sure if I can do it. That translates to a 7:49 pace. True, I've been doing my long runs at about 8:15 pace; but I'm just not sure. My plan is to see how long I can keep that pace, but I am fully prepared to slow it down if things start feeling sore.
Anyhow, sports fans, there you have it. I'll probably post more from Boston. Until then....GO NATS!!!
My last marathon was May 2012 (not my best performance either). I'm starting to wonder if maybe I overdid things in 2011 -- highest mileage year evah, lots of races (4 marathons, one half ironman, two olympic triathlons, half marathon) -- and things caught up to me last summer. Hmmmm, something to think about.
Meanwhile, the training has been going well. As I mentioned previously, I've been doing a very conservative return to running. Starting in early December, I've been slowly building back my base and my mileage. I'll worry about speed later. I went from 3 miles 3 times a week to a weekly base of 6 miles 4 times a week + long run. And my long run schedule has been a very conservative build up of 2 additional miles per long run: I started out with a 6 mile "long" run, then 8, then 10, 12, 14, 16, 18, and yes one 20 miler, then back to 16 and then 10 this past Sunday. I haven't run more than about 45 miles max per week. And as I said, forget about speedwork: at best, I've done a few low 7's "tempo" runs. I think I may have done one run sub 7. But no true speedwork. My goal, of course, is just to start and finish Boston on Monday.
When I started my long run progression, I'd like to say that my pubic area was A-OK. But there was still some low level soreness. Nothing sharp or debilitating. Sort of a mild dull ache -- the kind of pressury ache you feel when you have to urinate and are holding it in. It would either go away after a few miles, or I just got used to it. BUT, my final 16 miler and definitely the 10 miler I ran last Sunday actually felt good. I don't think (or can't remember) feeling that dull ache. I'm not going to press my luck on that.
I think the bone stimulator I've been using every night is finally paying off. At my last orthopedist visit, he prescribed a bone stimulator. It's a small ultrasound transponder (about the size of half-dollar) that I place over the pubic symphysis for 20 minutes. According to the Exogen website, 20 minutes of ultrasound a day helps accelerate the healing of bone related injuries. So there you have it.
Anyhoo, Boston is Monday. What are my goals? My primary goal is simply to start and finish the race under my own power. I'm hopeful I've done enough training to accomplish that. To be honest, I've probably put in about as much mileage as I did before I started doing XMP or Boston Bound with MCRRC -- and I finished several marathons in decent time training at low mileage. So I'm mostly confident that I'll achieve the goal of finishing.
My next goal is to not run my slowest marathon. That means running faster than I did in the 2004 Boston Marathon. That year (when they still had the noon start) it was in the upper 80s near 90 at the start and only got hotter. I ran a 3:45. So, I'd like to run at least a 3:44 if not faster.
My last goal is to run a BQ (i.e., a Boston qualifying time). Ahhh the advantages of age -- as a 47 year old male, I need to run a 3:25 to qualify for Boston. That's about 25 minutes slower than I was doing pre-2nd injury, which translates to about 1 minute per mile slower pace. I put this as my last goal because, frankly, I'm not sure if I can do it. That translates to a 7:49 pace. True, I've been doing my long runs at about 8:15 pace; but I'm just not sure. My plan is to see how long I can keep that pace, but I am fully prepared to slow it down if things start feeling sore.
Indeed, I plan to bring a small camera and take pictures and video along the course. Make a sort of race diary. As much as I love the Boston Marathon, this course has kicked my ass every time I've run it (visited the medical tent 2 out 3 times I've run it -- 4th times a charm?) And it's not cheap -- luckily we had a bunch of credit card points so Jordana and I could fly out and stay for free. Soooo, I'm not sure how often or when I intend to come back. I want to make the most of this one. Hell, I might even kiss some of the Wellesley co-eds!
Anyhow, sports fans, there you have it. I'll probably post more from Boston. Until then....GO NATS!!!
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