~ Bri Wenke
We couldn't help but stop for some photos around the finish area. First taking a few selfies and then handing my phone over to a stranger who took pity on us as we tried (and failed) to set the phone up for a timed shot on the street. Had to be done. She understood. She was doing it, too.
The expo scene was relatively tame compared to years past. We showed proof of vaccination and registration and got in to get our race packets easily. Kudos to the BAA as everything was incredibly well organized and spaced out. Honestly, it hadn't really hit me that this race was finally here until the moment when I had my number in hand. That was the first time I realized that, after multiple cancelations, Boston was actually happening. That shit was getting real and I was going to do this thing. It was a pretty powerful moment and I took a beat to let it soak in.
We walked through the expo and quickly learned that there was not much to it. Like at all. I mean, there was a big Sam Adam's Bar set up in the middle but I had no plans to indulge in a cold one two days before the race. I guess some people do that. To each his or her own. There were maybe ten booths set up in total, compared to the usual 100+, and we didn't have much interest in any of them so we circled through and then headed out to grab some lunch and head back to the car. We randomly stopped in at the Boston Public Library Cafe, mainly because it was on the way and we were starving. But it ended up being a lovely spot to grab lunch. We enjoyed sandwiches and then Jackie treated me to a maple pancake latte which was easily one of the best things I've ever tasted.
Sufficiently full and equally tired we finally ambled back to the parking garage and zipped back home for some much needed down time. Other than cross country practice over in Lexington, I had a pretty mellow afternoon. I got back home around 6:00 and sat and chilled with Jackie as we waited for our friend Erin to roll into town. Erin, aka Chicken, was also coming in for a visit and to watch the race. I haven't seen her since February of 2020 and have been in desperate need for a dose of her awesomeness so, needless to say, I was beyond thrilled that she was coming to hang with us. She landed and got to my house on the later side; basically in time for some pizza and a quick catch up session after which all of us turned in because it was 9:30 which, as we all know, is wicked late.
Saturday morning we got going around 8:00am. Our plan was to meet up with some friends for a shakeout run and then coffee in Boston. Jackie was going to start a little early as she needed to get a long run in so we got to our planned meeting spot and she took off while Chicken and I waited for the rest of our group to arrive. I had one thing and one thing only on my mind and it wasn't running so as soon as everyone got there we set off for an easy three miles then we grabbed our stuff and walked over to Tatte for coffee and food. Okay, yes, I might have ran. No, I did. I ran. And it was worth it because they make a damn good mocha. We sat and sipped and caught up with everyone for a while as we waited for Jackie to finish her run and then we said our goodbyes and broke around 11:00.
We'd parked in a garage under the Time Out Market which is this really cool indoor/outdoor plaza, if you will, with lots of fun restaurants and shops. Chicken had seen a winter beanie that she wanted at REI earlier that morning so we stopped in and let her convince us that we all needed said beanie. Which we obviously purchased. I also grabbed a puzzle for Jeff and Jackie picked up some donuts. Gotta love the one stop shopping. We had absolutely nothing on our agenda for the rest of the afternoon. Once we got back home we basically ate, drank, napped and lounged in various places in my house which was just about all I had the mental capacity for so it was perfect.
Jeff cooked us a great dinner and we, once again, turned in early. And then it was Sunday. But, for the love of Pete, it wasn't even race day yet. This has got to be the longest weekend of all times. The Monday marathon is brutal for this reason. By Sunday I'd had enough resting and was done waiting. I was ready to get the show on the road. It was a real tough day to get through. Chicken and Jackie made plans with friends and family. I did stupid crap like laundry, walk the dogs, eat, read, clean, probably placed a panic Amazon order, who knows. I was a little loco at this point; just trying to keep myself distracted. We did watch the Red Sox beat the Rays. Easily the highlight of my day. Beyond that, it was just a painful waiting game until I finally got my race gear together, crawled into bed around 8:00pm and prayed for sleep.
RACE DAY:
I got up at 4:45am so I could have coffee and breakfast while also leaving myself plenty of time to digest it all before the race which was starting, for me, at 9:25. If you've been reading this blog for a while you know that it doesn't matter what time my dog hears footprints. If someone is up there is likely a meal involved. And even if there isn't, it's definitely worth checking to make sure. So, yes, Clover joined me for breakfast at the crack of dawn and then promptly went back to bed until the rest of the house got up. I'm not gonna lie, it was nice to have her company, both for the distraction and to settle the nerves a bit.
Around 6:30 I woke Grace up and had her braid my hair. I made sure she was up for this the night before as she is never up that early by choice. Lucky for me she was game and had no problem setting me up with the perfect race day braid. I was very grateful. She went straight back to bed and later told me she had no recollection of the entire experience. At 7:00, Jeff drove me into Boston so I could get on the bus out to Hopkinton. I usually just have him drive me straight out but decided if there was any year to follow BAA protocol, it was this one. Jeff left me on Charles street at 7:15 and I walked over to get in line for my bus. After which I immediately learned that bag check was back out of the bus area and all the way over on the other side of the Common. That was a bummer. My nice 30 minute cushion was no longer so cushiony. As I walked to my assigned bag drop area I ran into my friend John Levitt, host of the For the Long Run Podcast, who had a similar bib number so we made the trek together and then joined up to get in line for the bus. Again.
It was now 7:45am and the lines for all fifteen or so buses were super long which was a little nerve wracking. John and I picked one and moved slowly to the front of the line only to be told the bus was full and we'd have to wait for the next one. Well, all righty. No choice in the matter so we waited. A few minutes later another round of buses pulled through and we hopped on and settled into the front seat. Again, really nice to have a buddy for this process as the situation is stressful enough by yourself. Even nicer that John could actually talk to me. Not that I'm knocking Clover but you get it. It was an uneventful ride out to the start and we got off the bus around 9:00 which left us time to walk the half mile to the line. All in, between the bag drop and the bus drop, we probably walked about 2 miles which was less than ideal but whatever. John and I had a good laugh over it and laughing pre-race is nice. Right around 9:20 we said goodbye and good luck and then I ditched my clothes, put my music in and walked to the start.
THE RACE:
MILES 1-9
This was my ninth time running Boston so there was nothing new as far as what to expect from the course. My goal was to break three hours. Why? Because it's an incredibly tough challenge that I know is within reach. Because I ran a 2:59 back in 2018 when I was 43 so why not see if I could do it again at 46? And, if I'm being totally honest, just because it seemed like a fun, badass goal. My plan was to try and run the first half at 6:40-6:45 pace. Then to tackle the hills, which would inevitably slow me down. And then to use whatever I had left for the last six miles. This training cycle I'd gone and run the course twice. I knew the hill section really well. I was ready. So, off I went. No, literally. There was no official start. They just told us to go ahead and cross the line whenever we were good to go. It was very bizarre. But that was that. I stepped on the timing mat, started my watch and hoped for the best. I knew Chicken and Jackie were going to be around mile 9 so I settled in and focused on getting there if only just to have something to look forward to. These first few miles flew by. I've done about 50 workouts at this goal pace so my body locked in, no problem. I worked to stay relaxed and find a rhythm as I made my way toward Natick. I saw Jackie and Chicken right away and cruised over for a high five which I nailed with Chicken and missed with Jackie so I gave her a thumbs up as I kept going. 
MILES 9-16
I was still in cruise control for this section but my legs started to feel off. Heavy and tired. My pace wasn't dropping. But my legs were making it clear that they were having to work harder than usual to hold on and they weren't happy about it. I tried to ignore them. That was really difficult. I saw Jackie and Chicken again at the half and gave them a worried look while pointing to my quads. Chicken shook her head "no" and pumped her hands up and down; basically telling me to settle down and keep grinding. It was exactly what I needed. I reset and got back on pace, still holding on to a 2:58 finish time.
MILES 17-21
And then I got to the hills. As I said, I knew what to expect. But turns out my legs kind of forgot. As I climbed the first and longest hill they were like, dude....WTF? I was like...yea, we practiced this. Remember? Just power up and finish. Like we said. And they were like... HELL NO, WOMAN. They were toast. Feeling heavier and heavier with each step, each muscle screaming at me to pump the breaks and walk. Well, I've done too many marathons to know that, at least for me, walking is a death sentence. So I forged ahead. My pace was now steadily in the 7s...7:22, 7:20, 7:16, 7:32 and then 7:56 for Heartbreak hill. Effffff. I mean, clearly my goal time was out the window. But now I was just willing my legs to move and they weren't cooperating. I did see a ton of friends and several of my LHS athletes throughout this section which was HUGE. I made every effort to point, wave and smile, hoping a positive attitude my trick my legs into thinking they were having fun. That didn't work so well.
MILES 21-26.2
So, I'm deep in the pain cave now just holding on for dear life. I know I can finish. I also know it's going to suck. I'd stopped looking at my watch by now as my goal time was out the window. I had no idea what pace I was running. I didn't care. I just wanted to be done. Looking back now, I somehow managed to keep all but one of my final miles in the 7 minute range which if you'd told me I was doing at the time I would have spit my gatorade in your face. Honestly, I felt like I was crawling. But the body does what it knows and I've done a shit ton of miles at a really hard pace for the past few months so it was able to tap into that even while I felt like garbage. It's kind of a minor miracle, really. I shuffled along, counting out the seconds in my head in an attempt to make the miles go by. And finally, PRAISE BE, I was turning onto Boylston street which is just totally surreal no matter what state you're in. You can see the finish. The crowds are going wild. Runners are freaking out in all sorts of ways. It's beautiful chaos and such a privilege to be a part of.
I haven't been this happy to be done with a marathon in quite some time. I gave everything I had left to get myself to the finish and crossed the line in three hours, eight minutes and twenty seconds. It is a time I can now say I'm incredibly satisfied with given how things played out. I hobbled through the finish chute and texted Jeff who was going to meet me back in the Commons with Rosie and Grace. I was in a big fat daze, happy, sad, in pain, shocked, confused; all the feels, I had them. I found my family by the ice cream truck, where we always meet post-Boston and sadly was unable to enjoy a cone as my body was like...don't you dare even try. That made me sad. Soft serve is my favorite. Rosie snapped a photo of me smiling, which I guess I was able to do although I don't really remember this moment. Then they picked me up and we made our way to the parking garage. Easily one of the toughest walks ever.
So, yea, I was bummed. I know I have another sub-3 in me. But despite all my training, my legs had their own agenda on Monday. And ultimately they called the shots. And, yea, I'm also I'm proud. Of the work. Of the fight. And of the finish. And finally, yes, I do want more out of myself. And I'm good with that. Because isn't wanting more kind of what it's all about? Most importantly, though, I'm grateful. To my family, my friends, my teammates, my coach, to everyone who supported me on this journey. Because it is definitely not a one woman show. You literally can't go it alone. Well, I can't. And then, of course, to my body, which somehow manages to keep plugging along in spite of all that I ask it to do. Which is a lot. But we're not quite done yet. Sorry. Not sorry. More on that later. Boston, I love ya! Don't ever change.
Listen to this:
Run Run by Shenseea
