Boston Marathon, April 2017

What can I say to introduce the Boston marathon? I wasn't even aware of its existence until somewhere around 2011, but since then I've run it 6 times and every single one has been memorable in its own way. 2013 was the scene of great tragedy, 2014 one of triumph (and my own personal best of 2:47:57), 2015 a freezing weather disaster that provided a counterpoint to 2012's freakish heatwave.

In 2016 I found myself placed second in my age group with a 2:51 that I knew was going to be close to getting me back in to the Elite Women's Start - a privilege I had in 2013-2015 but missed the subsequent year.

I should explain that the elite start is a somewhat surreal experience that manages to be at once both utterly fantastic and completely intimidating. For a sub-elite sort of runner like me, the pressure that comes with it can be overwhelming - and in particular the desire to NOT be the slowest of the 40-something women that start together at 9:32am precisely - and can lead one to do silly things. Like going out way too fast, for example.

Not that I've never done that myself of course (cough cough), but Boston is a dangerous place to take risks. And sometimes, being all alone (or at best in a small pack) can be a distinct disadvantage: witness the debacles of NYC 2014 and Boston 2015, where I battled alone into a savage headwind for virutally the entire race. But all in all it's a privilege and an honour to start with some of the world's best runners, so when I managed to run 2:49 last July in the Gold Coast, I knew I was going to accept the offer to run in the EWS (if it came) for what would most likely be my final Boston.


The Training

12 weeks
Average mileage:  83 mi/ 133km per week
Speedwork: no, not really
Races: 1 marathon, 1 half-hearted half

After taking some time off in January, I thought I'd be back into the swing of marathon training with gusto. The truth, however, was something less enthusiastic. I knew what I needed to do but lacked the motivation to do it with precision, and my good intentions ended up somewhat hit-and-miss in their execution. Point in case: in late February I planned to run the marathon in Orange as a supported long run, yet ended up racing it for the win (2:59:04 with a nice finishing kick) and probably wearing myself out more than I should have at that point. Oops.

Two weeks later I ran a strange 20 miler in Melbourne that ended with a somewhat baffling slow-down in the final miles, and left me with worse DOMS than I've had after many marathons. And then with 2 weeks left until race week, my left ankle decided to scare me half to death by swelling up and developing a distinct crunchiness to its Achilles tendon. Ready, set, PANIC!

I was very relieved that it seemed to be under control fairly quickly with eccentric heel drops and reduced mileage, but the combination of all of the above meant I headed off to Boston feeling slightly under-trained and ever-so-slightly over-optimistic. My usual approach of "do your best on the day" means exactly that and no more, but I usually have a much better idea of what that might actually be than I did this year when I set off on the long journey to Beantown.


Pre-race: Boston

I arrive a day later than usual; I had been looking forward to staying at a fairly new hotel just a stone's throw from Boston Common, but for reasons that make me too angry to elaborate, we have been rebooked to stay at The Charles out in Cambridge. In some ways it's sort of cool to see a new part of Boston - the Charles is a very swanky hotel and it sits right on Harvard Square, with easy access to the T - but having to commute everywhere is a distinct pain. There's nothing to do but suck it up, though, and hopefully we're going to be too busy most of the time to notice.

Peaceful Harvard Square: "Marathon, what marathon?"

The BAA 5K is a Saturday morning tradition now for Joel and me, so we head out to run it without a second thought. Despite the Common being packed with thousands of runners we manage to bump into our friend Chris with her family - what a great way to start the morning! In the past I've run this race WAY too fast (in particular in 2015) so I joke about pace for a bit but really, I'm planning to run as sensibly as I can. These days it takes me a few miles to warm up, anyway, so I'll barely be hitting my stride and the race will be over already. Did I just call it a race? Oops.

Definitely not racing, nope.

For once I follow through on my stated intentions and we tick the miles off in 7:59, 7:31, 6:54 minutes and then sprint down Charles St to the finish at 6:10 pace (3:49 min/km). Wheeee! Time to seek out carbs and then the expo. Although first we have to spend 2 hours getting to and from the hotel to get showered and changed, grrrr.

Just stood in the world's biggest queue to get these

The queues to get into the expo are ridiculous - the lines stretch out the doors and all the way down the block. Once we navigate all of that and pick up bibs, it's time to get crazy! Or at least spend way too much money on running gear we don't really need, but really really want.

Mindful of the toe problems I have had over the past few marathons, I've brought with me an almost-new pair of ASICS Hyperspeed 7 racing shoes that are half a size bigger than the ones that took out both my big toes at Gold Coast last year, but what I really want is a new pair of Adidas adizero adios. So when I see them on sale at the expo, the idea of wearing brand new shoes for a major marathon seems like a really good one. What could possibly go wrong?

The weather, that's what: on Sunday morning we wake to a forecast high temperature of 87F/30C - a major contrast to the usual average high of 55F/13C! I have to go out and buy some casual shorts from the local Gap store; it doesn't look like the long tights and warm jackets that I packed are going to make it out of my suitcase at all. At least the forecast for Monday is slightly less alarming, but it's definitely going to be another warm one. I've said - rather smugly - many times how heat doesn't bother me as much as it does most other runners, but I'd really prefer not to have to test that out once again on Patriots' Day. Sigh.

The rest of the weekend passes in a blur of socialising, carbs (both solid and liquid) and sleep, and before my body clock really knows what to make of it all, it's time to set out my outfit and get ready to wake at 4:30am for my 6th Boston marathon. For once jetlag comes in handy and we are both awake before our alarms have even thought about going off: plenty of time to saddle up and get to our respective buses. The one nice payoff from our hotel overbooking debacle is that we both get personally chauffeured directly to these locations, a service which will do nicely today thank you.

Lucky green INKnBURN singlet to counter the lunacy of brand-new orange shoes

I know a fair few others in the elite start now, so the bus ride out to Hopkinton and the ensuing wait in the Korean church by the starting line pass relatively quickly with lots of running talk and laughter. Outside the weather is a mixed bag: for the first time since 2011 there's a strong tailwind blowing, which is great, but already it's feeling warm and the lack of cloud cover is rather worrying.

I spend most of my time in the church in a small room upstairs with a bunch of other women, many of whom seem to also be in the Masters category. Apart from my Canadian triathlete friend Lisa, there's one more who is in my age group and then to my amazement I learn that my main AG rival has been sick with pneumonia and then shingles - she isn't even here today. Ooh! My main goal for the day is to place in my age group, and the chances of that actually happening just rose considerably.

Another nice thing is that I'm definitely not nervous this year: knowing that the chances of being back here again are slim at best, I'm focusing on taking it all in and just enjoying myself. Once up at the start line I take care to start my Garmin early (for a change) before doing a few strides and again just soaking in the atmosphere. Kathrine Switzer appears up on the gantry and is announced as our official starter - we all wave enthusiastically to her and I'm grinning like crazy as the final preparations are made for the race to start.

Waiting to start our race; I met her in New York in 2014

Grinning like a lurking maniac

Miles 1-4: 6:19, 6:22, 6:23, 6:20 (pace in min/mile)

Off we go! To my surprise the pace is relatively sedate to start with and I remain at the tail end of the pack for at least half a mile. The combination of fresh legs and the downhill start mean it all feels way too easy and of course I don't want to be dead last, but at some point I'm going to have to put on the brakes or risk nasty things happening later in the race. 

There doesn't seem to be any wind at all, but a quick look at the many flags lining the route confirms that in fact there is a strong breeze blowing at our backs; as a result there's no cooling effect and the temperatures are more uncomfortable than I remember from last year. By mile 2 already I'm thirsty and eagerly looking for the first water stop - this is not a good sign. At mile 3 I come up behind and then pass Lisa - a positive step for my age group ambitions, but there's a long race ahead of us still of course.

5K split: 19:42

Miles 5-8: 6:35, 6:30, 6:29, 6:36

By mile 5 it's clear today isn't going to be a fast race; I've already stopped checking the mile splits and am focusing on staying comfortable and also on dumping water on my head at every opportunity. I've been running pretty much all on my own ever since I fell off the back of the pack late in the first mile, but the lack of headwind means I'm not too bothered by being alone. The lack of shade in this stretch is more of a worry; with the air not really moving around me, already I'm uncomfortably hot. The water I've been throwing on myself at every water station since they started is not helping much at all: it's making my singlet very wet but the tailwind is just sticking it to my back and I'm not feeling any cooler as a result. Ugh.

10K split: 39:50

Just as I pass through the 10K mark, I become aware of a siren behind me and then a bicycle spotter appears on my left: "You've got about a minute, so stay right, the men are coming through" he says.  Wait, WHAT?

"Really??" I reply - I mean, I heard and saw the jets doing the flyover that marks the start of the general race, but that was only 10 minutes ago! Are the men riding Segways or something? Because that's what it would take for them to catch me up already - I've done this a few times before, after all, and I know the men won't catch me for at least another 10 miles - but this bike dude seems pretty convinced. Not wanting to waste breath arguing, I let it go and just stay to the right.

Pretty soon a police bike and then a single vehicle pass on my left, and then -- nothing, followed by more nothing. And no men, of course. Just an overexcited bike spotter without enough to do.

Miles 9-12: 6:31, 6:38, 6:35, 6:31

I'm trundling along at a fairly steady pace - as comfortable as I can be in this stifling heat - when mile 10 heralds the approach of another enthusiastic bike spotter. This one has grey hair and it appears that he wants to give me running advice. Lovely!

"Keep to the tangents, don't just follow the road" he tells me sagely; I glance in his direction and nod "Yep", but refrain from further comment. A mile or so later he approaches again from the other direction, executes a U-turn and informs me that the tailwind is "really blowing - it should give you at least a minute or two" before riding off again to places unknown.

This is sort of puzzling, I mean I have never really had much input from the bike spotters in the past other than during mile 18-19 when the lead cars and then eventually the elite men have been coming up behind me. Perhaps this year they have been instructed to randomly hand out advice and encouragement during the entire race? Or have I just been lucky enough to encounter 2 rogue running coaches on bikes already? The race isn't even half over yet.

Looking overheated and rather confused at all the attention from dudes on bikes
photo credit: K. Kelley

Miles 13-16: 6:38, 6;35, 6:46, 6:37

The Wellesley scream tunnel hasn't left me deaf in my right ear (hooray) and I'm not feeling too bad actually as I approach the left-hand turn and the final stretch to the halfway mats. I'm far too hot and I'm definitely running slower than I'd like, but my thoughts are surprisingly Zen: it is what it is, and I'm going to make the most of today since this might be my final time running here.

My Zen lasts as I veer over to the left side of the road, cutting the tangents (as I've been instructed), but is then abruptly destroyed as I glance down and suddenly realise there's a bike wheel about to slam into the back of my left ankle. WTF?!? Oh my god, it's my nemesis the bicycle coach again. In his fervour to get close and give me helpful advice he has almost ridden straight into me.

I gasp, straighten up and am astounded to hear him repeat his advice about running the tangents. I've had more than I can take of this stupidity: I bark out in reply "I am...now LEAVE ME ALONE!!"

Halfway split: 1:25:27

My rudeness has the desired effect: thankfully that's the last I will see of this particular gentleman, and pretty soon afterwards I cross the mats in a half split that is on the slower side of what I had anticipated. In this weather the second half of this race is going to be positively dangerous; I need to run smart now. As for AG placement, I'm not really sure where the other woman from the church is, and of course there may be a speedy interloper starting from the general start, as I myself did last year in fact. But hopefully I'll be able to hang in there well enough to earn another nice crystal vase - we will see what happens.

The first of the hills goes by with far less fanfare than it has in past years - and only a slight slowing of pace - but the worst lie still ahead. Gulp.


Miles 17-20: 6:55, 6:58, 6:41, 6:59

I don't remember checking my splits during this part of the race; all I know is that I'm slowing down but at least I'm still moving. During mile 18 the usual procession of lead vehicles is preceded by another bicycle spotter, who briefly advises me to keep right and then (to my relief) rides off without another word. The cars that pass have the usual assortment of police, photographers and officials peering backwards out of them and then, just as I'm approaching a corner, the men catch me.

A grainy screengrab but you can identify me from the weird thing I'm doing with my left hand
(as well as the fact that both feet are on the ground - shuffle shuffle)

This year there's a big group of them and I'm looking ahead at the corner, wondering if I should slow down or move over more, when the group briefly envelops me - passing on both left and right - before closing ranks again in front of me and moving on. There are about 10 of them and I see Galen Rupp (the American favourite) in the mix as well as another non-African dude with a moustache. Meb is nowhere to be seen - it's quite a while til he finally grinds past as we both make our way up the first part of Heartbreak Hill. I'm too focused this year to do any fangirling but I did get most of that out of the way before the race, anyway (see below).

American running royalty, L-R: Meb, Jared (after race) and Galen. Oh, and me and Joel of course.

Miles 21-24: 7:23, 659, 6:51, 6:54

The final part of Heartbreak Hill is an absolute shocker this year - my slowest-ever mile in the Boston marathon. Thankfully I won't realise this until much later, and in fact right now I'm actually surprised that I don't feel worse as I crest the hill and start the long downhill towards Highline and eventually Boylston Street. In retrospect my body went into survival mode at some point quite early in this race, and it simply wouldn't let me run any faster. The exertion level seems appropriate: tough, yet manageable, and to my surprise also I haven't really had any negative thoughts at all today.

Usually at some point I start thinking things along the lines of "I hate this" or "I want to stop now" or the classic "Why the bleep do I do this sort of thing anyway?", but today I'm fine with whatever's happening. Maybe it's the knowledge that I probably won't be back - or maybe it's the appropriately slower pace I'm running - but in any case, I'm having fun despite the uncomfortable conditions. Now I just need to step it up as much as I can and get to the finish without collapsing. I can do that, right?

A few unseeded male runners have passed me already but to my glee I've also caught a few more female elites; one, although I won't realise it until later, is my AG rival F108. I'm in that brain space now where I'm seeing things but not really taking them in, and the crowd is awesome but I can't really hear them; all I can do is run. There's a thick blue line on the road just begging me to follow it - and so I put my head down and that's exactly what I do.

Ignore the pain, follow the blue line, just keep going

Miles 25, 26, 0.2: 6:57, 7:06, 6:30 pace to finish

The Citgo sign appears after what seems like an eternity; the overpass right before it seems to stretch up almost to the sky. I'm surviving from mile marker to mile marker, thinking of no more than the fact that I'm almost there, almost there, almost there. Dragging myself along towards Cannoli Corner at mile 25.5 (where my spectating RunnersWorld friends congregate to hand out pastries and scream encouragement to members of the group), once again I hear my name being called but am too far gone to respond. The sun has gone behind some clouds now but the humidity is just as bad as it ever was and I'm way too hot, period.

But then something awesome happens: the lanky figure of Michael Wardian appears beside me and before I know it he's loping past, waving cheerily as he goes. If you don't know who Mike is, click here to find out more, but in short he is one of America's most prolific and successful marathoner and ultramarathoners. I spent much of the weekend of Big Sur marathon in 2015 hanging out with him (he and I were the winners of the Boston2BigSur Challenge that year) and much of the morning before today's race also in his company at the Fairmont Copley Hotel while waiting for our bus, and he's one awesome, humble, friendly guy.

This morning and back in 2015 - always smiling

Seeing Mike pass by makes me happy because we don't have far to go and so that means he must be on track to run under 2:30 (since I'm pretty sure that I'll still break 3 hours today) which is an AWESOME time. I'm impressed actually also that my brain has enough composure left to make those calculations - I'm clearly not as fried as I thought I was - and that I'm now about to make the famous turns: right on Hereford, left on Boylston. The race is almost over! Thank goodness for that.

Turning onto Boylston St I'm trying to remember to smile - there is always a photographer right at the corner and I have some awesome shots from over the years at this point - but it doesn't really work all that well. Despite the surprising ongoing absence of frank negativity, my face is betraying how tough today's race really has been and it just does NOT want to look happy.

2013, very nice  -- 2014, looking fast-- 2016, looking determined -- 2017....NOPE

But somehow I dredge up the ability to pump up the pace again as I run down Boylston; somehow the finish doesn't look as far away as it usually does, and I even have the presence of mind to stay left so I can get a decent finish line picture (although my addled brain then decides to hit stop on my watch while crossing, despite knowing how dorky that always looks). But oh what sweet relief! I can stop now!

Finish time: 2:56:32 (6:44 min/mile, 4:11 min/km)

Placement: 59th overall female, 1st in AG (F45-49), 7th masters female (40+)

YESSSSSS

I've done it: 6 Boston marathon finishes, all of them sub-3!

My time isn't as fast as I'd hoped, but I've hit my ultimate goal of running once again under 3 hours, and within an hour or so I'll know where that puts me in my age group. For now I can enjoy the luxury of wandering straight over to the elite tent to change, get a massage, chat to my friends and wait for Joel. Also I get to eat Cheez Doodles (my son will die when he finds out these actually exist outside of his Big Nate books) and drink as much iced tea and Gatorade as I can handle. Bliss!

So happy to be done!

Shortly after Joel arrives - having run a fantastic 3:22 on spotty training and lots of sandbagging - we have a dilemma on our hands: I've managed to win my age group and have just received an email inviting me to the official presentation at 5pm! But right now, normally we'd head to the downstairs bar at Loew's, a nearby hotel, to rehydrate (aka drink beer) with all our RunnersWorld friends. And there's no way we can fit that in plus the long commute to and from our blasted hotel. But I'm not going up on stage in my current sweaty, messy state, that's for sure. So off we go trekking to the hotel to shower and change, in lieu of beers with mates. Such is life when your hotel overbooks itself and bumps those with the cheapest rates, I guess. Grrrr.

The presentation is thrilling and fun, just like last year, with added bonus of my own cheer squad (courtesy of our friends Alice and Steve who meet us in the bar beforehand and sneak in to the ceremony with Joel) and my friend Paula - with whom I ran NYC in 2014 and Boston in 2015 in the elite starts as well - who has, not surprisingly, placed in her AG too. Seeing her again, even briefly, is awesome and I think I can say that this year's Boston will go down in history as my favourite one ever. Apart from the hotel, grrr.

Fast doctor runners, unite!

Summing it all up

Looking purely at the numbers, this was a pretty crappy performance from me. It was my second slowest finish time, my slowest from the EWS by almost a minute and my worst ever second-half fade. Crunching the data, it simply doesn't look good at all:

But given the circumstances it seems my body and some deep, instinctive part of my brain colluded to once again bring me the best possible result for the day: an age group win and a solid race without need of the medical tent (always a bonus) and, as it turns out, not even a blister or single destroyed toe. In sports physiology there's a lot of talk about a "central governor" that ultimately controls how we perceive fatigue, and it looks like mine sized up the conditions and decided that running for place would be a wise choice rather than allowing me to develop hyperthermia trying to hit an ambitious time goal.

And looking at the rest of the weekend, I'd have to say that 2017 was my absolute favourite of all years in Boston. Because although it's one of the biggest running events in the world, the Boston marathon, for me, is all about friends. Through running I have been so fortunate to make many good friends from all around the globe, friends who share my passion for our sport and spending time with them in Boston is always one of the highlights of my year.

The whole marathon thing is just an excuse for runners to get together and party

That said, I'm ready to take a break from Boston - for once I'd like to spend the April school holidays in Australia with my kids and perhaps run a different marathon in the first part of the year - at least until I have a new age group to conquer. Then, like Nellie Melba I might be back for yet another farewell, you just never know.

Boston Marathon, April 2016

It's impossible to talk about marathoning without talking about Boston. It's the marathon that serious runners all over the globe aspire to run, yet it's probably one of the toughest road races on the planet. But that doesn't matter. For so many of us dedicated runners, Boston is The One. And for those fortunate enough to be able to qualify with relative ease, going back again and again is a common theme.

In both 2013 and 2014 I ran in the Elite Women's Start (EWS) and finished with times that were fast enough to automatically get me back in there for the next year. In 2015, however, the weather on race day was fairly brutal and I finished with a far-too-slow 2:55. Despite going for broke (sub-2:50, that is) in Melbourne, I ultimately came up empty-handed last year and found myself assigned to corral 3, wave 1 of the general start for Boston 2016, my 5th attempt at the course.

After the alone-in-a-headwind debacles of NYC and Boston I must admit I was sort of happy about starting with the crowds - I figured it would be nice to have people around me for once, if for no reason other than to help break a headwind if one blew - and of course it would be fun to be at Athlete's Village with Joel for the first time ever. We only needed the weather to cooperate, really, but sadly that is quite a big ask for Boston in April.

The Training


Miles per week: around 87 miles (140km), averaged over the preceding 13 weeks;

Speedwork: at least once a week, sometimes as part of a long run, in which case speed = marathon pace, which was around 6:30 min/mile this cycle (4:02 min/km);

Other races: rather too many (ahem);

Taper: 2 weeks - 30% reduction then a one-week crash taper (see below).

Being a hopeless raceaholic and now married to someone similar, I've increasingly run races as part of marathon preparation, and in this cycle that included one full marathon (Wangaratta) and two half marathons. That wouldn't be such an issue if the second half (Canberra) hadn't been just 8 days before Boston.  Yes, 8 days. What on earth was I thinking? Was I thinking at all?

You'll have to click here to make up your own mind about that question, but suffice it to say that the lead-up to this year's Boston was far from conventional. After that questionable half marathon I made the surprisingly sensible decision to pretty much shut things down and as a result I arrived in Boston having run very little in 4 days and feeling as fresh as a daisy, or at least thinking that I was. What could possibly go wrong?

Race Weekend


We bowl up to the expo just a couple of hours after it opens on Friday and are amused to find ourselves bumping into Runners World forum (RWOL) alumni left and right; it's not too crowded and we are able to snag all the merchandise we need/want.

with Nick, of the sub-3:20 RWOL thread

On Saturday morning we again run the BAA 5K race - in the starting corral I am very surprised to find we are standing right in front of Rob de Castella, who is running today with his wife and daughter! His bib number is 1986, the year he won Boston in 2:07:51 (his personal best); how cool! I say hi and briefly chat with him about the marathon before it's time to start, and this year I manage to hold back much more appropriately than last year, finishing in 24:08 - once again hand-in-hand with Joel.

in the finish chute, both laughing and running a bit too fast (cough cough)

The usual hectic social roster sees us spending the rest of the weekend with a wide variety of running friends, and as usual this is ridiculously fun, involving quite a lot of beer and rather too little sleep. Sunday night is a fairly quiet affair (in contrast to the 2 nights preceding); neither of us has really adjusted to the new time zone and we are focused on trying to get to bed and to sleep as early as possible. Joel, with the assistance of his friend Jesse, has been providing me with frequent updates on the weather situation (“There’s been another shift!”) and it seems possible that the day will be warm, although nothing like the sauna of 2012.

I absolutely prefer heat over a freezing headwind - last year’s weather was my own personal definition of hell - so I am actually pleased with the forecast, since one of my biggest worries is freezing to death while waiting out in the corrals at the start.

I've already discussed my race strategy many times and have it fairly clearly set out: my time goal is “low 2:50s” so I'll aim to run the first half in 1:24-1:25 and then try to hang on as best I can after the Newton Hills. My RWOL friend Dan, who is in amazing (by which I mean 2:45ish) shape and has averaged something insane like 106 mpw this cycle, is worried about the heat and it's likely he will run the first half at least in my company. I'm glad about this but also a bit intimidated: his half marathon PR is a full 3 minutes better than mine so I'm concerned about going too fast in those exciting, downhill first few miles. He's reassured me this won't be an issue, so we make plans to meet somehow in the corral.

Race Day

We’re both awake before 5am and it’s not as tough as I expected to get ready and be out the door shortly after 5:30. I have my AG bib pinned to the back of my Chameleon INKnBURN tank, and I’m ready to crush all the other old chicks! Or at least I’ll look good whilst trying.

I love my INKnBURN

A short train ride has us dropping off gear bags and heading to the bus on time; a post-race meeting plan is made and agreed upon, and before we know it we’re on our way to Athlete’s Village. It’s pretty much as I remember it from 2012, so we pose for a photo with the famous sign and start getting ready for the race. Several fortuitous meetings take place – amazing really, with over 25000 excited runners in the one spot, what are the odds of randomly meeting my Canadian elite buddy Paula?? but I do, then we bump into Barry and he shows us where the RWOL contingent are camped – all this keeps us busy until finally it’s time to head up to the corrals.

So the photographer crops out the sign in favour of including our daggy sweatpants? bizarre

We end up directly in front of the Korean church where I’ve spent the last 3 years waiting with the other elite runners to start the race; it occurs to me that I’ve never really looked at the building from in front, having been dropped off out the back every year. It looks much more impressive from this aspect, you’d really never know how drab and dated it is on the inside.

Dan shows up as we stand there in the sun, and it’s obviously now way, WAY warmer than the supposed forecast 62F (16C). Heat is not Dan’s friend and he has had a bad time with the Boston course in past years, so he repeats his intention to run 6:30(ish) pace with me and we all wait together for the starter’s gun.

It seems like a long time before we start moving, first shuffling, then walking and finally running; then suddenly I find myself crossing the line (Garmin already fired up, for once) and Boston 2016 is underway! Here goes nothing.

Miles 1-4: 6:28, 6:21, 6:16, 6:18 (pace in min/mile)

OMG, the congestion. There are people EVERYWHERE! I know I have been waxing lyrical about how great it’s going to be to have other runners around me, but this is horrible and I hate it. Dan and I dodge and weave like maniacs the whole first 2 miles and I’m terrified I’m going to get tripped. Was I really thinking this was going to be so helpful? I must be out of my mind.

The water stations start and they are an absolute debacle: I’m either getting clotheslined, dodging collisions or missing out altogether. Dan generously shares one of his two water bottles with me so I can take my first gel at mile 2, and although we’re sort of going too fast right now there is plenty of time to get it right. Right? Sure.

By mile 3 it’s obvious we are going too fast. The 5K split (19:50) proves it and although I’d like to care more, right now all I want is for the field around me to thin out. Passing people does have that effect so I’m not about to slow down yet. Dan is right with me and seems to be having fun; the crowd is yelling support but I’m too busy finding a path through the other runners to notice much.

Miles 5-8: 6:21, 6:18, 6:25, 6:25

Finally I’m properly warmed up; the too-fast pace now feels great, and I look up to see another F45 bib not far ahead. I remark on this to Dan and we agree that we’ve got plenty of time to catch her. We’re both dumping cups of water on ourselves at every opportunity but funnily enough I’m not bothered much by the heat – it must be all the summer training and racing that I’ve done the past 4 months. At least I have that going for me.

10K split: 38:33

The 10K mark comes and suddenly I’m freaking out – our split is almost exactly the same as what I ran in Canberra last weekend. Holy crap, am I really on pace for a 1:23 first half? Dan makes the unhelpful remark that his HR is still fine – I know he’s fitter and faster (did I mention younger?) than me so I can’t really use his effort level as a yardstick against which to measure my own. Suddenly I’m very worried that I’m going way too fast and that it’s all going to blow up in my face later in the race.

For now though I keep this fear to myself and somehow my legs just keep turning. We ease past the other F45 and it feels good to know at least one of my competitors is behind me; all the faster ones are far ahead in the elite race and I won’t know how they did until much later.

Miles 9-12: 6:22, 6:29, 6:23, 6:24

15K split: 59:34

More water station mayhem, and it’s starting to get me really annoyed. At least I haven’t managed to dump a cup of Gatorade over myself yet – that would be the end. There are lots of spectators handing out water but I’m not thirsty and funnily enough my stomach isn’t too happy after my second gel at mile 8. I feel sort of a bit sick really; is this a confirmation that I’m running faster than I should?

I know my average mileage for this cycle is much lower than it was before any of my other sub-2:50 performances, yet here I am on pace for 2:48 or thereabouts. I know I shouldn’t have raced that half marathon last weekend: my quads already have that odd, achy feeling that I wouldn’t normally notice until around mile 20. All of this should add up to me slowing the bleep down and yet really I still don't.

I do however start expressing my paranoia to Dan, who is looking way too fresh and it’s driving me slowly insane. I tell him – not for the first time – to go ahead but he again refuses. Luckily he’s smart enough to realise that he is making my brain hurt, and wisely says “Just tell me if I’m making you crazy though”; my pointed silence is correctly interpreted as a firm YES YOU ARE, and over the course of the next mile Dan gradually leaves me behind.

Miles 13-16: 6:29, 6:21, 6:32, 6:21

Half split: 1:23:57

OK, that’s too fast, but it is what it is. The Wellesley scream tunnel has at least not made me deaf this year, and the second – infinitely harder – part of the race lies ahead.

Without the pressure of trying to stay with Dan I finally relax a little, but funnily enough I don’t slow down that much and he stays within sight until the pain of the Newton Hills starts at mile 16. Oh boy, I remember this from last year. Here we go.

Miles 17-20: 6:38, 6:43, 6:37, 6:53

Having run this course 4 times already means that parts are very familiar to me by now. The first hill is not too bad, I remember that, and it’s gratifying to see that I’m not slowing down too much yet. I pick up the pace again adequately (by which I mean under 6:40) after the first and also second hills, but I know what’s coming and it’s not going to be pleasant. The temperature is still not a big issue but my head is becoming a problem: negative thoughts are creeping in and I’m worrying about my physical condition.

This is no time for mental weakness, I tell myself sternly. Your legs are fine (even if they’re not) and your breathing is fine (ok, it actually is) so just put your head down and get on with it. I’m still passing people at this point and there are quite a few who are walking or limping along rubbing their legs – by comparison I’m in great shape.

yeah, I look unimpressed but that dude behind me has it much worse
photo credit: Clay Shaw, with thanks

But then Heartbreak Hill starts. God, I hate this mofo of a hill. My pace takes a nosedive and Scott – one of Joel’s Michigan running buddies – sails past me as I plough my way upwards. I actually thought he was way ahead already so I’m unfazed by this and focus instead on my own form: keep the arms pumping, keep the legs turning.

oh, the pain

I suffer in this fashion all the way to the top and on the way the rational part of my brain is screaming abuse at the part that wants to keep running fast. I tell myself “You am never, EVER racing Boston again. The most you’ll ever aim for is sub-3. No faster, period!” But why, then, am I trying like a madwoman to requalify for the Elite Women’s Start? I know; it makes no sense at all.

        

Miles 21-24: 7:06, 6:32, 6:35, 6:42

Where’s the archway that proclaims the end of Heartbreak Hill? It’s not here this year but I know when I’m there, and it’s time to see what I’ve got left. In 2014 I beat my 2013 time by 66 seconds and almost every single one of those was gained in the final 6 miles; how well can I hang on this time around? I know I’ve lost time in the hills - including one split over 7:00 pace - but 2:51-2:52 is still on the cards if I don’t fall apart. That’s an enormously big if, however.

The crowd of competitors has thinned a fair bit more and for the first time I’m actually alone for a brief period – it’s now that I notice the headwind. Seriously, really, a bloody headwind? It would be hilarious if it wasn’t so unfair. Pretty soon I’ve picked the pace up again and am back amongst runners; one of them is my RWOL buddy Oleg who blows by me at mile 23 or so like I'm standing still.

As he sails past he taps me on the shoulder and I turn my head, but I’m so far gone now that I don’t have the energy to change my facial expression, which at this point naturally is one of deep disgust. End result = Oleg gets a fierce glare and a grunt from me rather than any sort of civilised greeting. Oops!

Hating every single second, but not quite as much as the guy behind is

My brain is chiefly occupied at this point in a bargaining match with itself, whereby I declare to myself that it’s time to give up RIGHT NOW and then agree with myself that yes, I can give up, but not for one more mile. I repeat this exercise from mile 21 onwards and it works nicely until mile 25 starts. At this point, says my brain firmly, you might as well just keep going until the very end. Sigh, ok then. I can see the Citgo sign but it seems so very far away still.

Completely on autopilot at this point 

Miles 25-26.2: 6:43, 6:55, then 6:19 pace to the finish

My legs are toast. My feet are fried. Since mile 10 in fact I’ve known that I was going to get a blister on my right little toe – something that occasionally happens but usually not until the final miles – and since mile 20 or so my left foot has also been pretty much numb. I’m fairly certain there will be blood visible through my right shoe when I stop, but somehow I’m managing to ignore the pain and keep running.

The crowd is deafening; more than once I hear my name being yelled with gusto, but I can’t respond. I know I've slowed a bit but I don't care; I just have to keep my legs going until it’s time to stop. Right on Hereford, left on Boylston – and GO!

I swear they moved it...every year they move it...

That finish line is So. Bloody. Far. Away. From some deep reserves I summon the energy to speed up again and now I’m charging down Boylston St with the last dregs of courage and determination that got me here in the first place. Inside my head an inane chant has started: “Aussie Aussie Aussie, Oi Oi Oi!” Who knows why it is there, but it has the effect of keeping my legs turning over, and that’s all that matters.

As I approach the clock I know I’m around 70 seconds ahead (the time it took for me to cross the start line from corral 3 after the gun went off) and my mental arithmetic is never great when I’m in this sort of situation, but I think if I give it everything I’ve got, sub-2:52 may still be mine. Yes!!

Finish time: 2:51:51

Placement: 28^th OA female, 3^rd Master, 2^nd AG (F45-49)

Immediately after crossing the finish line I am not sure if I want to vomit, pass out, fall over or perhaps all 3. At least one of these options seems imminent – so I focus on putting one foot in front of the other and pretending to the volunteers that I’m fine, because I really don’t want to end up in the medical tent. After about a minute I do start feeling better, until I try looking down at my right shoe and almost keel over sideways.

Yep, blood, right where I expected to see it. Of course it’s not the sight of blood that makes me stagger like a drunk, it’s the fact that my legs really don’t want to keep me upright much longer. I collect my medal, summon an exhausted grin for the photographer, and eventually plant myself on the kerb opposite the bag check to wait for Joel. Volunteers are telling people to get up and keep moving, but I’m not having it. My quads are in serious danger of cramping up so I sit massaging them until Joel appears grinning; he’s run a gutsy 3:07 and is very pleased with himself.

Amazing what a difference 15 minutes and finding my husband makes......from almost passing out to grinning like a Cheshire Cat

Despite the fact that it’s still quite warm, something like 60F/16C, my lips are blue and I’m shaking so we make the wise decision to head straight back to the hotel rather than to Loew’s (the post-race RWOL bar hangout) which had been our original plan. There I pick up my phone, check the BAA app and to my amazement find I’ve placed second in my age group! An email confirmation arrives shortly afterwards, inviting me to the official presentation at 5pm. How thrilling!

The presentation is every bit as amazing as you’d expect, and my fast friend Robyn has in fact WON her AG (F55-59) so we ham it up onstage together and all head out together afterwards for dinner and many drinks – our waiter gives us both free margaritas after we show him our awards – and thus ends my fifth Boston marathon. What an incredible ride.

AG winners, boooyah!!!

The Analysis

In retrospect I realise that going out as fast as I did was taking an enormous risk; I could easily have blown up completely and ended up walking or in a medical tent well before the finish. As it happens, I put every single bit of my training and ability out there on the road from Hopkinton to Boston, and I managed to hang on to the very end.

Only 11% of finishers in this year’s race requalified for 2017; it was therefore a slow year and this was probably due to the heat, which thankfully for me does not affect me nearly as much as it does many others. It remains to be seen if my 2:51 will get me back into the EWS but I think my AG placement probably won’t hurt in that regard.

Am I up for giving it another go? Yes, it seems that I am. Monday’s race showed me that I’m not quite completely washed-up yet; there’s at least another year in me perhaps. First, some well-earned rest! Then we’ll see what comes next. As long as it’s not another marathon next weekend!

Boston to Big Sur, April 2015 - part 2

Several of my crazier running friends have completed the Boston 2 Big Sur running challenge in the past few years, but I never paid much attention until last year at RunCamp. There, my new and fast friend Neil told me he'd placed 2nd in the challenge for 2014, and that if I could do a reasonable job at both marathons, I'd likely be able to place high among the female finishers. Well, who could turn down an opportunity like that? Certainly not me!

The challenge is open to only 400 entrants and sells out in a matter of hours, so I set my alarm for the wee hours one night in early October and was subsequently quite excited to have secured myself a place in the 2015 Boston 2 Big Sur challenge. All I knew about Big Sur was that it's apparently one of the most beautiful marathon courses in the world, although not exactly a PR course - one look at the elevation profile and it is easy to see why:

Excuse me, there's a large mountain ruining this otherwise pleasant-looking profile.
Could someone please remove it?

The Lead-Up: Big Sur
The concept of 2 marathons just 6 days apart is an interesting one; as I said in part 1 of this post, it certainly seems like a great idea until you start pulling apart the details. I'm still totally gung-ho and enthused, right up until the morning of Tuesday, April 21st, when I wake up in Boston and attempt to hop out of bed. Ouch, ouch, my legs really hurt!

As I hobble to the bathroom I ask myself, can it really be true that I have to run another 26.2 miles on them in just 5 days? Whose idea was that anyway?? "Yours!" laughs Joel from the comfort of bed - but it's far too late to change anything, so apart from taking Tuesday off as a travel day, we spend the rest of the week limping about on 4-5 mile daily "runs" and trying to pretend we're not worried.

On Friday we travel out to California and are met at Monterey airport by Steve, the unflappable and ever-helpful elite coordinator. He installs us at the official elite hotel - a really cool place right by the coast, which we will discover is amazingly scenic - and has even picked up our bibs and goodie bags from the expo for us.

Very elite accommodations.

Pretty soon we are whisked off to a welcome reception on the top floor of the highest building in Monterey (with an incredible view), where we drink beer, eat canapés and hob-nob with some of the craziest runners in the entire world, by which I mean Dean Karnazes, who oddly enough has brought his parents along. Later we drop by the airport again to pick up the legendary Michael Wardian, who turns out to be a really great bloke, before it's time to try to sleep. Sometimes I think a 3 hour time change is more difficult than a 17 hour one, seriously.

Crazy runners unite!

Saturday morning we head to the expo to take part in Bart Yasso's "shakeout run" - I don't really know what to expect but it turns out to be a LOT of fun, in the form of a huge group of runners jogging along the beach at 10:17 pace, snapping selfies with Bart (who is endlessly obliging and friendly) and generally chatting up a storm. There's a girl called Cristie who is sporting a gorgeous INKnBURN outfit - we bond immediately over our shared love of the world's coolest running gear - and the post-run breakfast put on by Runners' World is full of carbohydrates and therefore thoroughly enjoyable.

RW shakeout group at left, INKnBURN gorgeousness at right

We spend the rest of Saturday hanging out with Michael and Neil, either at the Expo or predictably gorging on anything with carbs in it, and finish up once more at the Marriott where the pre-race pasta fiesta is going on; if there's one thing that stands out so far about Big Sur, it's the excellent treatment that I'm getting as an elite (as is Joel, as an Elite Husband). And they're definitely making sure we don't go hungry! I have truly no idea what the next day will bring, but already I'm thinking that the chances of coming back next year are high - it's on the way home, after all.


Race Day: Big Sur
At 5am our ride departs from the hotel with Steve at the wheel and we spend over an hour driving towards the start line along Highway 1, which is in fact the marathon course in reverse. Once the sun comes up it's quite amazing - the description "the rugged edge of the Western World" doesn't do this incredible coastline justice. A group of relay buses ahead of us overshoot their stop and one by one perform heart-stopping U turns that see them practically teetering on the edge of the cliff. Scary stuff!

The wind has come up - as per the Weather Curse it's a headwind (is there any other kind?) - but so far it doesn't seem too bad. At the start line things are in fact quite calm; once everyone is lined up the announcer goes through the elite field by name (including me!) and it's pretty darn exciting. The course slopes downhill at quite a sharp angle away from us - one thing is for sure, it's going to be a fast first mile!

Miles 1-6: 6:31, 6:38, 6;29, 6:36, 6:37, 6:53
A surprisingly large number of runners (both male and female) shoot straight out in front at an implausibly fast pace; it's hard not to go with them and so when I check my watch after half a mile I'm not surprised to see 5:58 pace showing. Joel is right beside me and we discuss pacing briefly - he has decided to pace me for the first few miles at least, like the wonderfully supportive husband that he is - and although I state several times that Benita has suggested 6:50 pace (or so), and we agree that this sounds reasonable, somehow we end up keeping it closer to 6:30. This will turn out to be a key decision that influences almost every outcome of the day, but more about that later.

Everything is going swimmingly - my legs feel okay, definitely not fresh but surprisingly good for day 6 post-Boston - until mile 5, when the trees start to thin out and a sudden gust of wind almost blows us over. "Where did THAT come from??" asks Joel, and I reply "I ordered a tailwind so I have no idea!", but of course we know exactly what it is: the wretched bloody headwind that was forecast. And we're running right on the exposed edge of the coast where there is absolutely NOWHERE to hide. This is going to get nasty.


Miles 7-12: 7:08, 7;12, 7:08, 6:28, 8:20, 7:42
Joel sees me through the 10K mark and then wishes me luck and drops back. The wind is picking up steadily and is basically blowing me backwards - it's awful, but also by now a very familiar feeling. And with all the experience I have at this now, I know not to panic, to just lean into it and keep my effort level steady. I stop checking the mile splits when I see the first one creep over 7:00 pace; today is going to be a slow marathon compared to my usual abilities, but there's no point freaking out now.

A large pack of runners is not too far ahead of me - and I know at least 3 of the women still ahead of me are in there - but much as I'd love to catch them, I'm fairly sure it's not going to happen. Once again I'm left to face the elements mostly alone (although some of the relay runners who have gone out like bats out of hell are now essentially running backwards and providing some intermittent protection from the wind) but I'm in a really positive frame of mind, somehow. Perhaps it's the sheer beauty that is all around me, perhaps it's the fact that I believe at least 6-8 women are ahead of me so I'm not stressing over placement, or perhaps it's just remembering my friend Ron's admonition to "Remember to take in the view", but even the headwind can't phase me today. It's a good day for a run!

Views like this one don't hurt, either.

Mile 10 is a lovely downhill that sees me back on a reasonable race pace, but I know what is coming up: Hurricane Point, a murderous 2 mile stretch of uphill at a ridiculously steep gradient. The headwind chooses this time to make itself felt once again in full force, and I have that strange feeling that you get when trying to go up the down escalator: I'm running my heart out yet somehow not actually moving.

A very cruel mile marker.

When my Garmin beeps I glance at it and am completely horrified to see 8:20 pop up - it has taken me almost 2 minutes longer than it should have to cover this past mile. Suddenly I notice a bloke who seems to be drafting off me - he sees me look around and promptly moves up alongside. To my extreme surprise he then mutters "Come on, tuck in" and surges ahead - not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I step up the pace and follow.

He drags me in this fashion up most of the rest of Hurricane Point, and I'm gratified to see that my pace up the second mile of the hill is considerably faster than the first. Towards the top I am starting to struggle - my saviour pulls ahead a little; I thank him and ease up a touch, then finally I'm at the top.

Miles 13-18: 6:14, 6:52, 6:58, 6:55, 7:00, 7:13
Downhill! Wheee!! I put my legs into free spin mode and bomb down the hill like a maniac. Numerous people have warned me not to trash myself on the steep descent that follows Hurricane Point but I just don't care anymore; and thus I am rewarded with my fastest mile of the course. I've also got my eyes on the spectacular sight of the Bixby Bridge, where I'll not only hit the halfway mark but am also expecting to hear some lovely piano music courtesy of the musician seated at the baby grand piano on the far side of the bridge. I hear it, but I never see it - I'm too busy grinning and running and dodging walkers. I'll have to pay more attention next year.

There's another hill coming up, and I don't even care!!

I cross the halfway mats in 1:31:31 exactly - by my calculations, then, a 3:05-3:07 finish time seems likely. There's NO way I'm not going to fade and give back at least a few minutes...or am I?

The rest of the course is pretty much undulating until the final hill at mile 25 (so cruel, I know), and the somewhat-strange-but-somehow-also-cool ElevationTat tattoo that Mike Wardian has given me comes in very handy now: hills are much easier to handle if you know exactly when they are going to end. I find myself looking at it quite a lot more than I expected to, and it definitely helps me mentally as I deal with a never-ending series of small inclines.

My left arm has never been as useful as it is today.

I sort of lose focus a bit during miles 17 and 18, and give back a bit of time. The road is clogged with walkers now, some of them ambling along three-abreast, and I have to exert myself quite a few times to bellow "COMING THROUGH!" or risk a collision - and I've already had a couple of near-misses at water stations and relay change-over points. This stage of the marathon is mentally really tough; it's too soon to think "I'm almost done" but late enough in the game to be seriously tired already. Any small distraction can lead to slowing down without noticing - it's time to get back on point and focus.


Miles 19-24: 7:09, 7:12, 6:58, 7:27, 7:06, 6:57
It takes another couple of miles, but I find myself able to gradually speed up again. Mile 22 has a nasty, sharp little hill but mile 23 is a lovely downhill and suddenly I'm having fun, flashing past walkers like a streak of lightning.

Coming THROUGH!!

Ooh, now I'm starting to pass a few men wearing B2B shirts - they must have gone out way too fast and are paying the price - I'm not really giving this any attention until one of them sees me and yells "You're in 4th! There's 3rd - go get her!" He points, and it's true that I've noticed a woman in grey ahead of me for the past couple of miles; she seems to be going around the same pace as me, or just a touch slower, so she has to be a marathoner. But there's no way there are only 3 women ahead of me! I laugh and tell my cheerleader friend that he's mistaken, but he's insistent and I start to wonder if he could be right.....and whether I really could catch her after all? Probably not - she's got to be over 30 seconds ahead - but the idea will give me power over the final miles, and that's totally what I need right now.


Miles 25-26.2: 6:54, 6:59, then 6:17 pace to the finish
With only 2.2 miles to go I can afford to thrash myself a bit now, so I pick up the effort level accordingly and keep blowing by walkers and relayers as fast as my legs will take me. There's a RIDICULOUS hill that starts right after the 25 mile marker, which is totally unfair really, but at least I know from my informative left arm that it's going to be short.

Staring down the final hill; and then at long last it's almost over. Hallelujah is right!

Grey Girl ahead is ever-so-slightly closer than before but I'm fairly sure I won't catch her; however the idea of it keeps my legs turning over as I drag myself through the final couple of miles. Once I can see the finish I accelerate as much as I can, and I can hear the announcer saying my name.....then he follows up with "And I'm hearing that she's our unofficial female Boston 2 Big Sur winner!!"

I'm so excited and amazed that I charge over the line with my arms in the air and a manic expression on my face - I did it!!


Finish time: 3:03:22 (6:59 pace) - splits 1:31:31 and 1:31:41

Placement: 4th OA female, 1st in AG, 1st Masters female, 1st female Boston2Big Sur Challenge (combined time 5:58:34).

Victory!! And - finally - a post-finish photo together.

I will soon learn that I have secured victory in the B2B challenge by only 3 minutes, which equates to roughly the time I banked in the first 6 miles by running with Joel at around 25-30 seconds per mile faster than I had planned. Phew! And thank goodness for fast runner husbands, eh?

B2B podium, extremely pleased with myself.

Afterwards/analysis
I get a bunch of plaques, bottles of wine, shoe vouchers and a Big Sur bookmark in my 4 trips to the podium, then it's time to head back to the hotel. I'm still in shock at my finish time - it came as a complete surprise to realise that I had run an almost perfect even split after how I felt at halfway.  And my legs are not even close to trashed: the next morning both Joel and I will end up running 5 miles along the coast (and get lost in the Spanish Bay golf course, but that's another story) with much less discomfort than either of us experienced after Boston.

For the first time in my life I can begin now to understand those runners who do marathons every weekend or every other day - it's not quite as physically impossible as I thought it was! Which is a very good thing, considering the race line-up I have planned for May. Gulp.

The spoils (we drank the wine).