It took me five months to train for Boston, three and a half
hours to run it, and now two months to blog about it. It’s a marathon, not a
sprint, after all.
What is there to say about April 18th, the 120th
Boston Marathon? Or better put, what isn’t there to say? The 24 hours
surrounding the Boston Marathon were, hands down, the best day of my life.
Everything about my experience running Boston was amazing, but it wasn’t just
the race itself. Let’s start a little further back…
In October of 2015 I was accepted both to run the Boston Marathon
and to fundraise on the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge team to raise money for
cancer research. Having already run one successful marathon, I knew what the
training entailed and was confident in my ability to pump out the miles and
gain strength. I was much more daunted by the prospect of raising $10,000. My
parents flat-out said it couldn’t be done. But this was a truly important cause
to me and I vowed to both run and fundraise as best I could.
The Dana-Farber team is an incredible network of passionate
and driven people, committed to eradicating cancer. Their stories, reasons and
motivations for fundraising and running Boston are inspiring. The majority of
them live and train in Boston, and because I was in Connecticut, I was not able
to connect with many of them. And so I trained out there on my own, and raised
thousands of dollars—thanks to many of you. I did want to feel like a part of
this team, however, so my parents and I attended the DFMC pasta dinner the
night (or really afternoon, dinner started at 4 pm) before the race.
As I’ve said and written many times before, I have my own
reasons for fundraising for Dana-Farber and felt strongly about making my first
Boston Marathon about more than just myself. I thought that my movitation would
be enough to get my from Hopkinton to Boylston Street. While I enjoyed my plate
full of different kinds of pastas, I soon came to realize how much more of an
impact Dana-Farber would have on me. Like me, there were many first time
runners and fundraisers, about to toe the line and unsure of exactly how the
race would unfold. And there were also runners who had volunteered five, ten or
more years of their lives to putting an end to cancer. Their countless miles
logged and hundreds of thousands of dollars raised set a fire within me.
Naturally each of these runners had started because of a personal incentive,
but throughout the years they realized that they were fighting a bigger fight.
Even though I did not yet know any of these teammembers personally, I wanted to
follow in their footsteps and continue fundraising and doing my part as well to
help find a cure for cancer. Many of my teammates had also paired with a
patient partner, a child being treated by Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. During
the dinner, the patient partner teams of runner and child came onto the stage
for recognition and the kids each received a marathon finisher’s medal. For me,
this was the most moving part of the whole event. Up on that stage could have
easily been my brother, had he not been lucky enough to be cured. Up on that
stage could easily have been my little cousin, who is being treated by DFCI
right now for a severe cancer. Up on that stage could have been any number of
friends and family members. I was so thankful that David is healthy, and in
that moment I was heartbroken for all of these patients, as well as inspired. I
would run for them! They would all be waiting at mile 25, and this is what
would get me through the hills and hard moment of the race.
Heading into the pasta dinner, I did not have many goals; I
wanted to raise $10,000 (which I did!), and I wanted to have a great race.
After the moving presentations from so many teammembers and people affected in
so many ways by cancer, I readjusted. I needed
to requalify for Boston. I needed to
run for Dana-Farber again. I needed
to continue to help in any way that I could to find a cure for cancer. In a
matter of hours, my finishing goal went from sub-4 to sub-3:35. And given that
my training had not gone nearly as well as I’d planned, and I hadn’t done a
significant amount of strength or speed work, I was not sure that I could
physically do it. But I did know that my motivation has burgeoned, and nothing
was going to stop me.
Unsurprisingly, the Boston Marathon is impressively well
organized. My mom dropped me off at the cool hour of 8 AM in Hopkinton, where I
waited just a few minutes in line for a porta-potty, and then hopped on a bus
to the athlete’s village. From there, I jogged to the DFMC center, where the
incredible volunteers had set up food, drink, first aid and phone charging
stations. We took team pictures and milled about. I wasn’t nervous. I was just
ready. Looking around the room, I saw so many yellow bibs—signifying charity
runners. My bib was blue—wave 3—and there were only a handful of us. Once again
I realized just how important my requalification was; if Dana-Farber didn’t
have to pay for me to enter the race, they could pay for an extra person to do
so, and thus have a greater fundraising impact. Finally it was time to head to
the starting line. I walked over with another DFMC runner, we wished each other
good luck, and found our respective corrals. In corral 2, I found a Oiselle
volée teammate, and we comforted each other as we got ready to start. I don’t
know if I’ve ever been so excited or smiled so much at the start of a race
before.
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| Before the race |
The gun went off and I crossed the starting line. The race
course drops into a downhill almost immediately, so I reminded myself to settle
in and not go out too fast. Of course there were thousands of people around me
so for the first few miles I did have to stay really relaxed. My goal was to
hover around 7:50 ppm as long as I could and hope that the hills wouldn’t
destroy me. Prior to the race I had done my research and knew that going out too
hard on the downhill in the first half of the race would kill my legs, and
given that I did not know what to expect from Heartbreak Hill, I needed to play
the game conservatively. And that’s basically what I did! After the race, a
number of friends who were tracking me would compliment me on how evenly I ran
the whole marathon, especially since many people struggled in the heat. I
believe that because of my pacing skills I was able to manage my energy really
well and that allowed me to run the exact race I wanted.
There were too many funny, incredible and memorable moments
during the race for me to write them all down here, but I’ll throw out a number
of my favorites:
- The honest sign at mile 2 that said “you’re not almost there”
- Making awkward eye contact with a man holding up a sign that said “keep running if you think I’m sexy” even though he definitely wasn’t sexy
- The Mormon missionaries dressed in their uber-conservative clothes cheering
- The Wellesley scream tunnel that did not disappoint
- Seeing my parents at mile 13 and knowing that the race was really starting at that point
- Finally starting to hurt around mile 16, just before the Newton hills
- Finding another Oiselle volée teammate just as Heartbreak Hill started, yelling “let’s do this,” and charging up the hills together
- The red ice pop that someone handed to me on Comm Ave. It was not in my fuel plan but it was too hot to care
- Feeling my legs starting to hit the wall and deciding that I would not allow it
- Seeing so many of my friends cheering for me from mile 20 and onward. Knowing that I had people at almost each of the last 6 miles made the pain of the third hour of running a lot more bearable
- Trying not to tear up as I approached mile 25, where DFMC was stationed. These people were the reason I was running, and why I was pushing my body way harder than it was happy about. The cheers that erupted as they recognized my neon yellow singlet gave me the motivation I needed to finish strong and under my qualifying time so that I could keep running for them next year
- Running my fastest mile of the whole marathon at mile 26, so desperate to be done with the race at that point
- Crossing the finish line at Boylston, slowing to a stop and letting the tears finally flow.
Official Finish Time: 3:31:42, only 35 seconds off my marathon PR!
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| After! |
Despite writing my longest blog post ever about the
marathon, it’s still hard for me to accurately describe all of the feelings and
thoughts I have about my first Boston Marathon. I was so lucky to have the
incredible support—emotional, physical and financial—of so many loved ones and
I’m happy and proud that I was able to accomplish exactly what I set out to do.
The best news is that I get do to this all again next year. Maybe by then I’ll
have my thoughts together a little bit better and much sooner. I can’t wait.
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| My amazing friends and cheer squad |
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