Recovery

It is slow.  Slower than I ever anticipated.  It's Saturday and I can bend my left knee past ninety and I can do stairs without wincing, but the quads are still sore.   Quads were even swollen on Friday - a full four days post race.  Now that's a new experience!  

But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.  That's what I'm marveling almost a week post-run - I ran the first 16 miles at an 8:45 minute mile - that's sub-3:50 marathon pace.  That's not really a big deal except that the first half of the race, though a net downhill, is rolling hills.  And so to run that consistent and that fast really is amazing to me.

To aid the recovery I'm taking long walks with Sydney - enjoying spring - because it's FINALLY arrived here in Colorado Springs and looking forward to a run sometime soon.

Running strong, Ouch, ouch!

The Race:  The first couple of miles click by.  This sun is out (I'd left behind my gloves and long sleeves just before hopping into my corral) and I can tell already this is going to be a hard race.  It may be net downhill for the first half, but there were an awful lot of rollers.  As promised, at about mile 2 the street is lined with bikers with beers.  The local biker bar lends racers enthusiastic support.  Every time I head up or down (and I do this more often than I'd like) I look ahead to a sea of runners.  Wow.  I have never seen so many runners. 

It is warmer than I anticipated.  Somewhere after mile two I decide that I should not only drink water, but also pour some over my head - keep the core cool.  I'm able to keep a pretty consistent pace for the first ten miles - somewhere between 8:35  and 8:45.  I am pleased with this and keep reminding myself that I want to soak in as much of this experience as I can.  I happily slap the outstretched hands of the spectators - kids and adults alike.  When I find myself not smiling, I remember to reach out my hand so that I get the whole experience. I talked to someone in the airport on the way home who was disappointed in his time - had tried to run a personal best and didn't and said if he could do it again he'd run for fun, "You could slap hands the entire 26.2 miles."  He was right about that - if you wanted to there was always one or two outstretched.

Several people had told me about the storefront in front of which no spectator stands - so that runners can glimpse their stride.  Just ahead of the windows, stood a guy with a megaphone guiding your vision to the reflection.  More impressive than the sight of my own stride was the rhythmic view of tons of runners running together.  I'd have missed it, I'm sure, had the megaphone not redirected my sight.  

Somewhere along the line stood a spectator with a cake - blue frosting, white cake and lots of those flat, round sprinkles.  He was holding out forkfuls, "Cake?  Cake anyone?"  The thought made my stomach turn but it brought a smile to my face.  Other spectators had orange slices and popsicles and beer.  I opted for none - so maybe I didn't really have as much fun as I could have, but everyone of them made me smile - and that's a mili-second when I'm not thinking about pace or pain!

As promised, approaching Wellesley - for nearly a 1/4 mile - I hear a high pitched whine. At first I think my ears are playing tricks on me, but it gets louder and louder and then I'm upon them.  Wellesley girls lining the route, hanging out over the barricade screaming at the top of their lungs. Hands outstretched, it's a place to slap some hands and get some energy.  I soak it all in.  This is the Boston Marathon - legendary.

Mile 17:  At last my parents.  I was beginning to struggle - quads just beginning to scream - quietly but still beginning to scream.  And there were my parents on the right side of the course - sign in hand.  Screaming at me to keep going.  I feel the adrenaline course through me.  I raise my arms and smile (or at least I think I did) to acknowledge that I see them, that I am fine, that they have given me a much needed boost.  Mom snapped two photos - the first shows only my raised fist as I am blocked by another runner.  The second shows agony - at least that's what I see in the photo (because that's what I was feeling) - slightly slumped shoulders - I can see the pain. They say I looked strong, solid.   

Newton Fire Station at 17.5 or nearing 18 is a sharp right turn.  Kat is standing on the left hand side of the turn and I miraculously see her.  And I run over for a hug and words of encouragement from her - "Keep going, keep going."  It's what I have to do.  I needed to see Mom and Dad and Kat at these moments - I need the adrenaline rush to get me up, down, up, down, up, down, UPPPP, down the Newton Hills and finally Heartbreak Hill.  I expected something monumental at the top of Heartbreak - nothing but PAIN.  I even slowed part way up and asked some guy if I could borrow his shoulder to try and stretch my throbbing left quad.  It didn't help.

I've passed 20 so I know it's only 10k to go, but I am in pain and struggling now to remember to have a good time.  I had hoped to maybe see my folks at 21.4 or possibly 22.4.  As it turns out they had their own adventure on the T.  Packed to the gills - like Sardines and lines that were crazy long.  We knew it was going to be a tough race to spectate.  The hope that I might see them definitely pulled me along - but I was slow - a couple of miles well over 10 minute pace - not pretty.  

Mile 23:  And I see Julie and Marsha on their bikes.  It's like I've seen angels!  Seriously!  They're screaming.  I'm in agony.  Quads are more than burning; left one is painful and throwing off my gait significantly.  I keep going spurred on by a new burst of adrenaline.  They hop on their bikes and navigate traffic and spectators and are hollering and screaming at the top of their lungs.  I can hear them and I can see them out of the corner of my eye.  They're with me easily for a mile and a half.  I pick up the pace and am running sub-10 minute miles again.  I look at my watch and realize I might just make it under four hours - if I'm lucky.  I go down a small hill, an underpass, and lose Julie and Marsha, but they have given me the nudge that I need.  I keep telling myself the faster I go the sooner  I will be done.  Easy mantra to say, not so easy to do.  My left quad is throbbing - it has never hurt in this particular spot before.  I keep pushing.  Right on Hereford.  Left on Boylston.

The Finish Line:  I see it.  At least a 1/4 mile yet to go.  With each step I am wincing in pain, but I am about to finish the Boston Marathon.  A year ago I wasn't even sure I could run a fast enough marathon to qualify to run Boston.  Now I'm finishing.   I read somewhere that Boston represents the top 10% of amateur runners in the country - I am among them.  I have run in the footsteps of Olympic Champions - of women's running heros - Deena Kastor, Katherine Switzer, Joan Benoit Samuelson and an Ethiopian and a Russian woman who dueled it out hours before me finishing only 2 seconds apart.  It is a magical moment as I cross the line. I am nearly in tears - joy, pain, elation, exhilaration, awe, amazement.

Screaming Quads!

Even two days later, they are still quite unhappy.  They prefer that I avoid stairs and that I not get up from a seated position.  The pitfalls of running 26.2.  

The race was unlike any experience I have ever had.  It was by far the HARDEST marathon I have ever run.  I am so pleased that I squeaked in under 4 hours.  Much gratitude owed to my parents, Kat, Julie and Marsha for being out on the course.  Never mind the second half being hilly, the whole thing rolls.  The first half might be a NET downhill, but that doesn't mean it's all downhill!

Day started early - as they always do - even though my race didn't start until 10:30 am.  I got three good hours of sleep and then after midnight I was checking the clock every hour.  At 5:20 I just gave in, turned the alarms off and got up.  Dad, Julie and I were out the door at 6:30 headed into Boston to find the buses to the start.

The Bus Ride:  With relative ease and a detour or two, we found the Tremont St. Side of the Boston Common and a lineup of school buses that went for block and blocks.  Weather was overcast, but predictions were for it to stay that way without rain and without breaking up much.  I wound my way to the end of the line where I met Adrienne Jones from Ontario, Canada.  This was her third Boston and she'd never seen the bus lines like this before.  I got in line about 7 and we pulled away from the Common about 7:25.  Ninety minutes later we FINALLY made it to Hopkinton.  The buses were like a train in the right lane on the interstate and as we pulled off the exit at Hopkinton and slowed to a stop (at least 20 minutes more to go it turns out) some couldn't hold it anymore.  A school bus full of nervous, hydrated runners isn't always a pretty place to be.  The bus drivers were kind enough to let the desperate ones off for a pee in the woods.  First it was one, he got applause when he returned to the bus.  Then it was many, from many buses.  Adrienne said she never seen this before either!  Once released from the bus I sought out a relatively short line for the potty, myself.  

The Athlete's Village:  I never really did get a full sense of the Athlete's Village as I didn't really have the time.  A couple of big tents set up and water and food - I'd brought my bagel and peanut butter with me so I didn't really need to find much - and thousands of people.  There were, afterall nearly 25,000 expected to start this race.  Other than my friend from the bus, nearly everyone else I talked to was a Boston first-timer.  I spent maybe 10 minutes collecting my thoughts, sitting in the grass, listening to my Ipod and centering myself.  Text from Jane said, "Life is an occasion; rise to it."  

Decisions about clothing were hard.  It seemed the sun was trying to break through the clouds.  I opted to leave the sweats in my bag and wore the gloves and long sleeve Target technical tee I had with me. Found the school bus window with my race number, 17715 and gave up my bag - cell phone, Ipod and extra clothes now out of reach until I was done with 26.2. One more stop in the "johns" and I was headed for Corral 17 - I'd forgotten that it was about .7 miles to the start line from the Village. That's when I started to feel butterflies.  I wondered if I'd make it to my Corral before the gun went off.  Wove my way through the crowd of runners and spectators and squeaked in with a minute or two to spare.

The Gun Goes Off:  I didn't move.  30 seconds, a minute, 90 seconds and I moved a bit.  Walking though, not running.  Another couple of minutes and I finally got to the start line.  Not bad, I was thinking it might take me as much as 10 minutes to cross the start, instead it took less than 5.  I'm on the right side of the two lane road that leave Hopkinton.  TV cameras are filming the start and we all wave our hands, hoping for our seconds of fame.  The side of the course is lined with spectators - young and old - holding out their hands for a high five.  One after the other after the other.  I choose to rise and high five as many as I can - I am here to have fun - it is my first Boston, afterall.  

Boston Marathon - 3:59:42

It's done.  It hurt.  I can rest now.  Until the next marathon!  An amazing day!

On Winged Feet

That must be how they run.  How can I describe what it was like to watch the fastest American women run?!  They were incredible.  Unbelievable. Focused. Deliberate.  And fast.  Just plain fast!  

The first woman to run past our vantage point was not Deena Kastor.  And that first woman was at least a full minute ahead of the pack you see above.  That pack was lead by American record holder Deena Kastor (#1).  The woman in front, who held her lead - which at one point was approaching two minutes - was Magdalena Lewy-Boulet.  She's a Polish emigree who got her citizenship on 9/11/01.  She ran an amazing race.  And it looked so effortless.  For both she and Deena.  And many others - 124 finished today's race.  The slowest runner was a 3:07 and change.  37 minutes faster than my best time.  I'd be happy to be last if I were running the Olympic Trials - just to have gotten there is an accomplishment and then to run with so many great American women.  I'd happily come in last!

What was so amazing was that at 12 and 18 the order of the top two hadn't changed.  And the distance between them was still significant.  But then came mile 24.  As I leaned out over the road to see who was behind the motorcade, my heart skipped.  The lead had changed.  Deena was in front.  By 10 seconds.  At mile 25ish she was 15 seconds ahead.  It seemed clear that she would win.  She was running effortlessly.  Focused.  Driven.  I cannot describe how it feels to watch these women run.  They are so tiny, so light on their feet and just so strong.

And so many behind them that were incredible too.  Joan Benoit Samuelson wore a yellow cap and a Livestrong singlet.  She has an awkward gait it seems to me.  But she ran a 2:49 and change.  At 50.  Unbelievable.  I saw her run.  The only US woman to win an Olympic Gold in the marathon.  In 1984.  At the first Women's Olympic Marathon ever.  Awesome!

In the presence of greatness.  I cannot have a bad day tomorrow after standing just feet away from these strong, fast women.  On winged feet may I travel tomorrow!

Boston Day 1

What a magical day.  It can only get better.  Bright and sunny, if a bit brisk, for a short run in Newton.  Legs felt good after flying yesterday.

Spent the morning at Fenway Park in an executive suite.  A CC event that was super fun and hopefully will yield us a few more members of the class of 2012. The amount of work that goes into prepping the field for a came is unbelievably meticulous and clearly takes most of the day.  I got goose bumps listening to the choir practice America the Beautiful.  I think that was the moment I really started to feel like I was here to run the Boston marathon.  

After the event Kat and I walked from Fenway to the convention center.  It is spring in Boston and we walked through the community garden plots near Fenway.  So many things beginning to bloom and such a gorgeous walk.  Getting my number was a piece of cake.  Getting my shirt, too.  They even had a separate room to try on the shirt so I could get the right size!  And it's a women's cut technical T, too.

Then came the Expo. Yikes.  I can't say I've ever seen so many people in one place.  So many fit people!  But so many people.  

I had two goals - see if I could get Katherine Switzer to sign my book and get a BAA Boston Marathon jacket.  Neither seemed like an easy task.   The Adiddas booths were insane.  Long lines, lots of disorganized racks and what appeared to be, at 2:15 pm on day 2 of the expo, a dearth of jackets - the only thing left - size xs.  Now I saw lots of fit people, but they were clearly normal sized people.  The only ones that might fit those extra small jackets are the elite runners.  Needless to say I was bummed.

So we went, instead, in search of Katherine Switzer.  Had something of a hard time, but finally discovered she was signing at the Runner's World booth.  She was due back in about 5 minutes from an interview.  It was worth waiting.  The woman working the booth said the Expo was extra crazy because the Marathon was sold out.  Apparently this isn't common, but because of the Women's trials this year the race has the second highest number of runners in its 112 year history.  And when they all bring friends and family to the expo - it's like sardines!  

Within minutes of 3 pm Katherine Switzer walked up to the Booth.  So easy, no waiting in line, a chance to thank her for the inspiration her book gave me while I was training for my Boston Qualifying race.  The inscription now in my book, "Marathon Woman," reads:  To Jessica!   In honor of your 1st Boston - This is a victory forever!...and you know it's Magic!  Go for it!  K. Switzer, Boston '08.  For those who don't know, she is the first official woman to run the Boston Marathon  in 1967 under the name K. Switzer.  The race director tried to shove her out of the race once he realized she was a woman, but she finished and helped build the women's running movement and was instrumental in securing the Women's Olympic Marathon in Los Angeles in 1984.  I am awed by her accomplishments as a runner and on behalf of female athletes.  She did make a point to say I shouldn't be loaning my book, but rather encouraging friends to buy it.  I assured here that with her note in my book I wouldn't likely be loaning it anymore!

We took one last look around and discovered what turned out to be the official BAA merchandise booth.  Move over Adiddas!  So jacket found, two bought and one returned (Kat and I both stood in line and they went equally fast, but neither of us is tall enough to see over a crowd) and book signed, we left the chaos.  

The rest of the day brought a quick shopping trip at Fenway, a trip to the airport in the Infiniti and a chance to do laps while we awaited my parents arrival and finally dinner with the friends in Cambridge who have so graciously opened up their home.

In the morning we see America's fastest women run.  I can't wait!

By the numbers

By the time I cross the starting line on Monday I will have run more than 480 miles since January in preparation for this race. 

Since January of 2007 when I really set my sights on trying to qualify I've run more than 1600 miles.  This will be my third marathon in less than a year and will make #4 in about 18 months. 

That's a lot of miles, but how can that be bad under the shadow of Pikes Peak?  I might maybe preferred to run fewer of them at o-dark-thirty in barely double digit temperatures.  But all of the other runs on bright, sunny Colorado days or on the road in sunny Southern CA made the really hard ones bearable.

I am ready for a bit of a break from the Garmin - I don't want to know my heart rate or my pace.  Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't be headed to Boston without having paid close attention, but going to Boston has earned me not just the chance to run this amazing race & to be in the presence of great running icons, but it has also earned me the chance to run just because - long or short.  And it's earned me a little bit of couch potato time!

Boston Countdown

I haven't done this before.  But many keep telling me that they're inspired by my running.  And since my running has taken me places I never imagined maybe it's a good place to start a blog.  A year ago the thought of running the Boston Marathon was a BHAG (Big Hairy Audacious Goal) - a phrase I learned a number of years ago at the Center for Creative Leadership.  In other words, a long shot.

Last June, I had the race of my life, literally.  On a day when few others had a good race because the weather was much warmer than anticipated I ran more than 12 minutes faster than my previous marathon time.  Rather than an out of body experience, I'd describe it as an "out of mind" experience.  I let go of all the mental doubts and nags and ran with my heart, listening only to my legs and my body.  I qualified with 60 seconds to spare. Not bad!  My previous marathon was in Des Moines, IA in October of 2006.  It was only my second marathon and my first under 4 hours, but that's when I heard that first whisper hinting at a Boston Qualifying time.  I needed a 3:45:59.  

Grandma's Marathon in Duluth was my first marathon in June of 2001 and my Boston Qualifier in June of 2007.  It is a great race.  Small town charm, well supported and just fun.  What better place to "ice" sore legs after the race of my life than in Lake Superior which provided the path - the scenic highway by it's side and a beautiful distraction (when the going got tough).  

So tonight I sit here downloading Runner's World podcasts to listen to on the plane to Boston and trying to get the Athlete Alert to work on my mom's cell phone - that way they'll have some idea of when they might see me among the 25,000 other runners.  My plane is Friday morning and I'm ready to be on it.