I have been unable for the past month plus now to figure out how to describe Boston. It went beyond my expectations in so many different ways, but every time somebody asks me how the race went I am not sure if I am supposed to simply say amazing, or if I am supposed to give details related to my own run. Most likely sane people care very little how somebody in the middle of the pack's race actually went . . . but, shocker, I am going to do a quick paragraph summary before actually talking about the experience of Boston 2014:
I went out as close to 3 hour pace as I could, and pretty much ran my planned splits till about mile 18-20 when things gradually ground to a halt. Ironically, it came as little surprise to me that my body/mind shut down in the final 10km - I felt it coming from early on in the day. Although I was able to maintain pace for the first half to 3/4s of the race, it was pretty clear from the outset that I was working harder than normal and my self talk was more negative than normal. My strategy then became one of simply trying to maintain pace as long as I could and see if my body/mind might bounce back in the later miles. No such luck. Not sure if my struggles were related to getting older, loss of fitness from being injured, loss of energy from having run harder than expected the month before at Antelope, having an off day, dehydration, playing too much prior to the race, or some such combination of said factors. In either case, I was able to hold on just enough to qualify for Boston next year and genuinely felt like I left what I had out on the road but missed my personal time goals by about a dozen minutes - and running goes on.
As far as the experience itself, Boston was in a class all its own. The crowds were amazing. The city was amazing. The stories were amazing. The simple fact that the race went on as grand as ever was amazing. And so here are a few of the images and or scenes that have stayed with me (and what I want to get down so that in a few years I can recollect them through the haze):
A crazy sort of silence as we walked downhill toward the starting corrals from the pre-race grouping area. I am not sure if other runners experienced this, or if I just ended up in a weird group, but it was an intense moment as a few thousand people walked together in relative stillness.
A boy standing in the crowd with his family cheering as loudly as possible and holding a sign that said, "Thank You - thanks for being here."
A phone conversation overheard the night before in which a mother talked about her daughter returning to all the places she had struggled to forget/remember from last year's race. Her daughter had been fine, had just finished her first Boston Marathon and was recovering in the medical tent when the bombs went off. The day and her memories completely changed in an instant, now she was back ready to run again.
The pre-race excitement Bostonians seemed to have in abundance this year. I got to hang out a good deal with Rick and Elizabeth (Alta friends who live in Boston most of the non-snow part of the year) before the race and it was so cool to hear their stories about the race, their strategies for watching on race day, and about the city in general. It gave the crowd a much more personal feel. I have to say in general the crowd this year was not only bigger than I remember from the other time I ran Boston, but also seemed more focused on the runners and the race - instead of the race simply being an excuse to party (which I completely understand and appreciate) it seemed like the race itself was the celebration. I am not quite sure how to put that into words, but I have never been in a race (road or trail) where there was such synergy between the participants and the audience. It was almost like the spectators themselves were actively participating in the race - this was of course nowhere more true than going through the Wellesley Tunnel of Sound.
The constantly shifting memorial(s) on Boylston street. The crowd's energy on Boylston street. The fact that reaching the finish line was a struggle this time round added something to this experience for me . . . I felt engulfed.
Sightseeing along the coast with my old man. He is the one who got me into running some 30+ years ago and it felt right touring around with him prior to this race in a whole assortment of venues my mom would have loved to visit - in fact, in retrospect, I am shocked this was my first time to Harvard Square since we had all done the east coast as a family trip years ago and the area around the campus would have certainly been my mom's kind of venue. (Note: I am trying hard to keep myself from pointing out how the PAC12 schools trump anything on the east coast in terms of not simply academics but also sports and lifestyle).
Hearing that Meb won the race upon finishing. I know it's silly-sentimental-foolish-patriotism but there was something genuinely cool about having an American winner and for that winner to be Meb downright unreal awesomeness.
All of the people who were running/walking different events after having been injured last year.
The courage showed by so many families to return to where they had been standing the year before to once again cheer on a bunch of screwballs running in short-shorts. In hindsight it's pretty easy to say how safe everything was going to be this year, but that doesn't mean fear couldn't have just as easily won out. I mean this with all sincerity and with a real push at trying to explain how such a simple act as standing along a race course carried so much more weight on this one day. It was just 100% awesome. On the plane ride out I met a person who was specifically heading back from SLC to be with her family for the week and stand in the same place she had every year since she was like 8 or some such thing and hand out orange slices.
Rushing to make my flight home, and then have it delayed. The beer on the plane - delicious.
In short, road races are fast, hectic events and often miss out on the personal touches that come on the trail; however, it was amazing to see so many people come out for such a silly thing as running. Thanks Boston.
Alright the cheese is over and now back to the trails . . .
