THE BOSTON MARATHON:

 AN EXPERIENCE OF A LIFETIME
Mkeating@aol.com

 

Decisions, decisions.  Where do I begin?  I first decided to do this on April 19, 1999 while watching the Boston Marathon that year.  I began to train seriously in September due to the extreme heat during the summer.  Fall training went quite smoothly, working my way up to twelve miles of all hills.

 

Training

Winter was tricky.  To avoid having to work around traffic and snow banks, I needed to get up at 4:00am Sundays to do my long run (12-14 miles).  I would begin running at 5:30, but having arthritis, I needed the extra time to lose my nighttime stiffness.  Not all my training runs were successful.  I could not get to the top of Belmont Street having already run twelve miles.  I was still four miles from home when I quit!

 

Stu’s 30K, a hilly 18.6 mile race around Wachusett Reservoir was a turning point.  Every knowledgeable runner said the same thing; if you can do this, you can do Boston.  I completed it in 2 hours, 51 minutes.  There were no naysayers from this point on.  Beth (my wife) had two co-workers who had run the Marathon before.  They began to offer suggestions.  At first I was not sure about getting advice at the eleventh hour.  I take great pride in being self-trained and taught.  Once I was satisfied that no one wanted to re-make my workout or sell short my accomplishments to that point, I was more comfortable.

 

Hopkinton

My brother had put me up Sunday night, so my sister-in-law, Lisa, drove me to Hopkinton at 10:15.  Due to roadblocks, she had to let me off a mile from the action.  That was OK.  The walk killed some time and did me good.  The efficiency of the town of Hopkinton and the Boston Athletic Association (BAA) was impressive.  Despite a large number of people moving in on a tiny hamlet, everyone was well cared for.  There were vendors, bands, speakers and other entertainment.  Bathroom facilities were adequate.

 

At around 11:00, the announcements over a PA system began coming and were helpful.  At 11:30, I began warm-up stretches.  Ten minutes later, I took my place in line.  Not having an official number, I was a “bandit” lining up in the “back of the pack”.  Much to my delight and surprise, bandits get first class treatment in every way, except that no record is kept of their run. 

 

We were lined up out of earshot of the starting gun and the PA system.  Besides our watches, there were other clues that the race had begun.  Sweatshirts and jackets (one of them mine) began flying through the air toward the sidewalks.  News helicopters began to pull away.  A formation of military jets passed overhead.  I had anticipated crossing the starting line around 12:30 or 12:45.  We bandits were allowed to begin walking toward the line at 12:08.  I crossed the starting line at 12:12 and started my stopwatch.  The training and anticipation were over.  The race was underway!

 

The first couple hundred yards of this “run” was actually a walk. The pack was so thick it was physically impossible to run.  My normal pace (average time per mile) during training was 9 ½ minutes.  This first mile took over twelve.  So much for the warnings about beginning the race too fast due to adrenaline!

 

Ashland

The two-mile mark is in Ashland.  Because Hopkinton and Ashland are wooded, many runners use this opportunity to make a “pit stop”.  The lead-time required to organize the runners, combined with lines at the portable toilets, makes voiding immediately before the race difficult.  It speaks well for both the spectators and the police that they graciously pretended not to notice any runner, male or female, urinating in public.  Not wanting to deal with this issue in Wellesley or beyond, I would make two stops; one in Ashland, the other in Natick, just before Wellesley.  Except for these stops, each lasting about twenty seconds, it was a continuous jog (no walking) from start to finish.  I do understand that this paragraph is no one’s favorite (not mine, at least!), but it is a part of many runners’ Marathon experience, hence its inclusion.  Enough said!

 

Also memorable about Ashland is that I began to pass some runners with official numbers, even though all of them had begun ahead of me.  Anytime I would look ahead, either uphill or downhill; it was curb-to-curb runners and would stay that way until Wellesley.  It was here that I tossed aside my sweatshirt.  I hear that discarded outer layers are picked up and donated to the homeless.

 

At this point we began to see water stations and people handing out orange slices.  If you began the race hungry, you did not need to stay that way.  There were enough oranges and other goodies handed out to nourish even the most forgetful!

 

Framingham

I had mixed feelings going though this town.  Having grown up in Framingham, I watched the Marathon at least a dozen times from that town.  It was quite a trip being in the middle of the road this time.

 

True to her word, my sister-in-law was at the six-mile mark.  I threw off my tear-away pants when I reached her, leaving me in shorts and a tee shirt.  I told her what time I had started the race.  She called Joanne, a friend of mine stuck at home for health reasons, with the stats.  Joanne had agreed ahead of time to be a clearinghouse of information.  Except for a baseball friend in Natick, I would not see a familiar face again until after the race.

 

It was here that my attention span began to drift in and out.  It is not uncommon to occasionally miss a mile mark.  Although I would look at my watch, the time showing began to lose its meaning since I could not convert it into a pace.  As I was nearing the end of Framingham, the owner of a lamp shop invited the passing runners to check their form in the window.  I was looking solid.

 

Natick

I was still going strong when I got into the town.  Shortly afterward, however, I began to wonder what I had gotten my self into.  My children and in-laws were supposed to cheer me on at the junction of Routes 135 and 27, to the runners’ left.  Unfortunately, they had crossed the street before the race and were unable to cross back.  They saw me and yelled out, but I could not hear them over the crowd.  For the rest of the race, I would wonder if my poor family had missed me after putting up with my training all year long.

 

Soon after that, my feet began to hurt, as they always do after ten miles or so.  This was scary because I still had fifteen or sixteen miles to go.  Could I really ignore pain for more than half the race?

 

Wellesley

As I hit the twelve-mile mark soon after entering Wellesley, I took my second dose of Power Gel, a gooey concoction of flavored sugar, potassium, and sodium.  I also took three Advil’s for the pain, as Beth’s co-worker had advised.

 

It is still mind boggling to think that the winners were finishing the race at this moment!

 

Shortly after, I passed Wellesley College.  The girls have a well-deserved reputation for acting like 1960's Beatles fans.  Their screeching  was ear piercing.  Police barricades kept them back.  It did not provide the emotional uplift I thought it would because the pain was getting worse and I wondered if I would have to drop out or walk part of the way (bummer!).  Soon after, I passed the halfway mark.  A friend of mine from this town, Ann, was taken back when I said that this, not Newton, was the toughest part of the race.

 

In Wellesley Center, the temperature dropped and the wind picked up.  I began to notice spectators in winter coats, hats, and gloves.  At this point I knew that having only shorts and a shirt would bite me big time after the finish line.

 

Newton (up to Boston College)

Soon after entering Newton, I looked for Ann at an agreed upon spot.  She was not there.  The early start out of Hopkinton caused me to arrive slightly ahead of schedule.  She was called into work for a while and could not get to the checkpoint until minutes after I had passed.  She would wait 45 minutes in the windy cold for nothing.  Lucky for me, a runner to my left had a cell phone.  She was kind enough to let me call Joanne so I could let her know my condition and my whereabouts.

 

Things were greatly improving for me.  The further I went, the better my odds at finishing.  Both the Advil’s and the Power Gel were taking effect, giving me a second wind. 

 

At around Mile 17 or 18, it was time to turn off Route 16 and onto Route 30.  The Newton Fire Station is here and so is the beginning of the feared hills.  Heartbreak Hill is the third of three hills of Newton.  When I decided to do the Marathon, I trained intensely on the hills of Worcester.  This decision proved to be the right one. By this point there were plenty of “joggers” walking.  For me, this part of the race was uplifting.  Heartbreak Hill did not live up to the hype, and I knew there would be no stopping me at this point.

 

Somewhere on one of these hills was a camera perched on a catwalk just above the road.  I could see it focus on me.  It shot live footage shown at the time by Channel 5, much to Joanne’s delight.  She is quite religious and prayed heavily for God to give her a look at me.  She described my outfit exactly. Also, the time of her sighting matches the time of my passing the camera, so I know it was genuine.  She commented that I appeared to be in excellent form.

 

Beyond Boston College

From here to the Finish Line and beyond, police barricades separated runners from spectators.  The crowds were very heavy.  It was a five-mile stretch identical to Wellesley College.  The well-wishers were numerous and loud along the entire Marathon route, but it really came to a head here.  If you want to be as popular as a rock star without all the baggage, just run the Boston Marathon.  You’ll get your fame and all the hype that goes with it!

 

My memories of this stretch don’t change until after the Finish Line.  Loud, heavy, crowds in winter wraps.  Many runners slowing to a walk.  The crowd yelling, “No more hills!  You’re almost there!”  Finally, after four hours, sixteen minutes, and twenty seconds,  I crossed the finish line.  The run was complete.

 

Finding my wife

The police barricades extended beyond this.  Runners could not just go where they pleased.  They had to go along a pre-set route stretching several blocks to busses or to family waiting areas.  I had to go about six blocks to Waiting Area K (organized by last name).  Along the route I took one of those silver foil wraps.  It helped for a while, but not long.  The temperature was in the low 40’s.  With a wind chill it felt like low 30’s, a little tough on someone with just shorts and a shirt.  The BAA also passed out food and water.

 

The runners got to the waiting areas quickly.  Barricades kept them on the streets where there was room to move.  Families were not so fortunate.  The sidewalks were nearly impassible.  Beth could not swim through other spectators as fast as I could walk under escort.  When she was not there, I went across the street into the Hancock Building on Clarendon Street to warm up.

 

I would spend the next half hour to 45 minutes on the phone calling Joanne and my in-laws to inform them of my whereabouts.  I would then call Beth’s beeper to let her know whom to call.  Unfortunately, she had a tough time locating a pay phone, and the first one she found was out of order!  At last she did reach one, call her parents, and manage to find out where I was waiting.  My Marathon experience came to an end at about 5:45 when she found me in the Hancock lobby.  If there is a next time, I’ll rent her a cell phone!

 

Closing thoughts

In conclusion, this was the experience of a lifetime.  I am glad I did it.  I don’t intend to be back next year.  The training takes up too much time and attention.  Some people have approached me about doing it again for leukemia.  They point out that they can use my help since I am physically capable and that they can get me an official number next time.  Maybe in 2002 or after, but not next year.

 

I’d like to think I did this not only for myself but also for the little guy.  Beth has said that the Marathon is actually two races; one for the elite, one for the regular folks.  I work a job, raise a family and do all that goes with it.  I did not change my schedule to fit in my work-outs.  I did not consult any track coaches.  I was self-trained and almost entirely self-taught.  It was an inspiration for me.  I hope it was one for you.