RACE REVIEW:BOSTON 2023

"And if you abandon all your hopes 

and dreams, you'll find

That it's no use to be tender or 

that you had tried

Oh, that you had tried"

Frankie Rose, 'Anything'

On Monday, April 17th I completed my 10th Boston Marathon.  You will probably not be surprised to hear that it did not go as planned.  But marathons rarely do.  There was some good, some bad and a little crazy mixed in and after a few days of processing I'm finally ready to break it down.  So, here we go.  As you may know from my last post, I was running this year as part of a Masters (age 40+) women's team (otherwise known as pretty fast, older women) and we were going for the title in this category.  As you also might know, after many months and an absolutely insane training cycle Amy (left) and Lauren (right) are now like sisters to me.  So for this race, I wasn't running for me, but for us.  Which is a really cool way to approach a marathon.  All three of us managed to make it to April healthy and in one piece which in, and of itself, is a miracle.  A quick story before I get into the actual race.  The Tuesday before race day I was doing my final workout with my friend, Steve.  We were running full speed when I tripped on a pretty significant tree stump and went down hard on my side.  Given that we were mid-run, I popped up, dusted myself off and finished the workout.  The soreness set in later that day and when I woke up the next morning I couldn't really twist my right side without substantial discomfort.  Not that it mattered.  I didn't need to do much twisting.  And I only had a couple more short runs to do before game time so I was not particularly worried about it.  And that's the story.  Put that on your back burner for now.  On Saturday, our team had a track meet and I was on my feet for five hours.  That was not ideal.  But the girls slayed and the meet was awesome.  So it was worth it.  On Sunday I went for a short two mile run, which felt great, and then tried to put my feet up for the rest of the day while also trying not to stress out about the weather for Monday which was looking sub-par.  

Sunday night I laid out my gear, ate some dinner and then watched a very bad movie to kill time before I went to bed.  Standard procedure.  My plan was to get up at 4:30, have some coffee, walk my dogs, drive into Boston, park my car at the hotel where Lauren and Amy were staying and then walk with them to the bus which would be leaving for Hopkinton at 6:45.  So, I was tucked in with lights off at 8:30pm.  I know, crazy early.  As usual, my eyes popped open before my alarm and I was up and moving at 4:25. 

Clover, who lives for food (first) and attention (second), was right at my feet as I headed downstairs.  Enzo, our strange little rescue dog, was like, Dude!  It's the middle of the night.  What is happening right now?  Can you please close the door behind you and be a little quieter.  Thanks.  Clover and I hung out for a bit and then, much to Enzo's chagrin, we went for a walk in the dark.  The weather was ok; as predicted, a little chilly and slightly misting.  Not terrible racing conditions if it stayed this way.  But you and I both know that never happens when you want it to.  I took off for the city at 5:30am and made it over to Copley Square with no issues which was lovely.  I found Amy and Lauren easily and we gathered all of our gear and walked over to the buses.

We found a spot to sit and wait as they weren't loading for a few minutes and we wanted to get off our feet.  Note that Lauren and I saved our blankets from our last Boston marathon which was a pro move as they were perfect for keeping us warm and dry and then could be easily tossed when it was go time.  The ride out to Hopkinton was about forty five minutes and went relatively smoothly aside from when our driver slammed on the breaks to avoid hitting the bus in front of us as we got off the exit.  That got the heart rate going a bit.  We unloaded and headed over to the post office which is where our team always meets and waits before the start.  Quick shout out to the below race volunteer.  Normally, if you leave the official start area, which we were doing, you have to walk all the way back to the beginning of the official entrance to get back in which is about a half mile from the post office.  Lauren thought to ask this guy if he'd let us sneak through the gates when our wave was called so we didn't have to do the extra walking.  He just winked and said come find him when it was time.

Inside the post office we were warm and dry and had our own bathroom for the next two hours which was pretty much as good as it gets for a pre-race set up.  We were all incredibly grateful for this.  I stretched a little, put my legs up for blood flow, ate some more food and tried to stay calm.  This is also when I started to notice the soreness in my rib/armpit area.  Whenever I moved my arm to stretch or grab something or did anything abrupt like cough or sneeze I would get a little jolt of pain.  Obviously, this was making me nervous.  I asked around for Advil but then decided against it in fear of potential stomach issues.  Lauren tried to ease my mind and tell me it would be fine once I get going which I appreciated and hoped was true.  Maggie, Lauren and I were all starting together in Wave 1 so at 9:40 we said our goodbyes to the rest of our crew and headed over to our assigned corrals.  True to his word, yellow jacket guy let us into the start area by quietly opening up the gates for us.  Bless him.  The three of us wished each other good luck and then went to our corrals.  Right after the below photo was taken it started to rain.  Steadily.  Impeccable timing, as always, from Mother Nature.  I tried to keep moving in my little square as I waited the twenty minutes for the first two groups to get going and then reluctantly handed over my blanket just before 10:00am.  Then, finally, we were off.  Giddy.  Up.

THE RACE:

Miles 1-6 (6:56, 6:42, 6:41, 6:38, 6:53, 6:38)

I had two goals for this race.  I wanted to run smart.  And I wanted to help my team take the Masters title.  If I was able to do both of those things, I thought a good time and perhaps even a personal best was in the cards.  My training had gone well and I trusted it.  If I ran in control, I was due for a good day.  My goal pace was around 6:45 per mile so, after navigating a pretty crowded first mile, I gradually clicked into a rhythm making a point not to go too fast down the first section of the course.  This first 10K went by smoothly and I was feeling both confident and excited.

Miles 6-12 (6:38, 6:40, 6:51, 6:40, 6:46, 6:48, 6:41)

I stayed right on track for the next 10k.  I watched as people flew by me during this section taking advantage of the downhill ride.  Rookie mistake, I thought to myself with a smug grin on my face.  We all know the race doesn't start until after Heartbreak Hill.  And if you don't, well, I'm sorry.  Buckle up because it's gonna be a hell of a ride and it's probably gonna hurt.  I started to feel a little low on energy at the end of this section so I grabbed one of the Maurten gels with caffeine that they were handing out and hoped that it would give me a much needed energy boost.

Miles 13-21 (6:47, 6:50, 6:55, 6:43, 7:10, 7:07, 6:57, 7:08, 7:31)

And it did for a couple miles.  But then, I faded again.  My legs were just feeling so heavy and tired.  I didn't have any pep whatsoever and I'd really lost my rhythm.  At the halfway everyone was looking up at the camera, waving, smiling....YAY, WE'RE HALFWAY.  I was like, holy shit, we're only halfway.  For the next few miles I could not do anything other than look at my feet and plow forward.  If I saw the mile markers I knew it would stress me out because I wasn't even close to the finish.  I also could no longer look at my watch.  I didn't want to know my time anymore.  I just wanted to get through the hills in one piece.  As you can see from my pacing, the wheels were wobbling but by no means falling off.  I sure as hell felt like they were, though.  But then, I looked up and I was at mile 19.  I could not believe it.  I'd gotten through eight miles and most of the hills and I was okay.  Not good.  But okay.  For the next 1.8 miles I could not stop thinking about the fact that I had to use the bathroom.  People talk about peeing in their pants while they run.  For the love of Pete, I tried.  Because I did not want to stop if I didn't have to.  But it was not working.  My mind was like, yea, no way.  We're not programmed to do that and it's just not gonna happen.  Finally, I stepped off.  It had to be done.  A mother was helping her toddler in the single porto where I'd stopped.  The door was open and they were talking, mom was giving her a, “great job, kiddo”.  I was like, “can I please use this?  Like, now?” She graciously grabbed her daughter and moved out of the way and I quickly took care of my situation.  When I was done, I looked at my watch for the first time since the half.  I was floored to see that I wasn't that far off my goal time.  And even more so to know that I only had 6 miles to go.  I remember thinking, LET'S F***ING GO, Rebecca.  You can do 6 miles in your sleep.  

Miles 22 - 26.2 (6:55, 7:02, 7:05, 6:59, 7:06)
I was now able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.  And I was pretty damn happy about it.  I was smiling.  I was looking around for the first time in the race, seeing the crowd, soaking up the noise and feeling the vibe.  I was even passing people, likely those who'd gotten too excited at the start and flown down the first half.  Sorry, guys.  Now you know.  I was going to be okay and I knew it.  I felt like garbage.  My rib hurt.  My legs hurt.  My shoes were waterlogged.  The rain was getting heavier with each step.  But I was getting it done.  I turned left on Boylston and felt the joy rushing through me as I slogged toward the finish.  I knew it wasn't the time I'd wanted.  But it was damn close.  And it was one of my biggest, and ultimately my best, mental battles ever in a marathon.  And there have been many.  Thirty to be exact.  Thirty freaking marathons.  I was so proud of this one.  So, so proud of the effort and the fact that despite wanting to give up and walk or even quit a few times, I'd kept it together and finished the damn thing.  Final time: 3:02:06.  

When I saw the photographer as I walked to get my blanket I made a point to stop and document the moment.  I wanted to remember this one.  This was a good one.  This one is worth telling the grandkids about some day.  And then the heavens opened up.  Literally.  It started pouring buckets.   Hard, cold, driving rain.  Obvs.  A volunteer gave me a second blanket to hold over my head and I shuffled to the hotel to find Amy and Lauren and get out of my wet clothes.  It was about a half a mile walk to the hotel.  It felt like a second marathon.  I heard my name from behind me and it was Lauren.  I almost cried.  Never have I been so happy to see a friend.  Not just someone I love, but someone who had just done what I did and who understood how I felt without any explanation.  It was so what I needed right then.  And bless this woman.  We got up to her room....HER ROOM...and she let me take a hot shower first.  Now, granted, she couldn't get her shoes off, but still.  That is next level selflessness in my book.  So much love for both her and Amy who got me through this training cycle, the day itself and will most likely be with me when I line up again.  We didn't take the Master's title.  We came in second.  We were heartbroken.  We lost by one minute and eleven seconds.  Basically, my bathroom break.  Sooooo, yea.  In some ways, though, it didn't matter.  All three of us had fought tooth and nail to give everything we'd had for each other and that is a beautiful story, one that I will always cherish.

Speaking of stories.  When I woke the day after the race and turned to get out of bed I screamed so loud the neighbors probably heard me.  My right side was so sore it was like knife blades were shooting through me when I moved it in any direction.  I mean there is post-marathon soreness but this was something else.  I consider myself pretty tough but I was not okay.  And everything I did, putting socks on, sitting down, standing up, coughing, sneezing; holy hell, a sneeze.  The pain was excruciating.  I ended up going to the doctor, mostly for piece of mind because I knew there was likely nothing I could do for it.  I just really wanted to know what was going on.  And he confirmed, that, yes, the rib was broken.  An x-ray wasn't necessary.  He could hear the click of the bone in his stethoscope when I took a deep breath.  He was baffled.  "You fell about a week ago.  Why does it hurt so much now?"  I smiled.  "Well, I had a slight increase in activity recently", I told him.  He finally got it out of me.   "YOU RAN THE MARATHON???" he said as he laughed out loud.  I smiled and shrugged.  Had to be done.  Who knows if this impacted my time.  It doesn't matter.  The day unfolded as it was going to.  I was just along for the ride.  A ride that just keeps getting crazier every year.  What's next?  A little healing.  Some rest.  And then back in the saddle like always.  Same horse.  New ride.  Let's go.

Listen to this:

Anything - Frankie Rose

Slumberland Records · Frankie Rose - Anything

WHIRLAWAY BOSTON BUILDUP

 "Success is best when it is shared."

~ Howard Schultz

My last Boston Marathon was in October of 2021.  It was the first time it was being held since Covid.  And it was the ninth time I was lining up for this race.  I trained very hard.  Maybe too hard.  Because the week leading up to the race my whole body was tired and I couldn't shake it off.  I was just not recovering enough.  And right when I started running I could tell that it wasn't going to be my day.  My legs were heavy from the first step and felt that way through the whole damn thing.  It is heartbreaking to work your ass off only to fall short.  We all know this.  And after finishing that specific Boston I thought I was done lining up in Hopkinton for good.  Don't get me wrong, I love the Boston marathon and the experience is usually pretty epic in the best way.  Except for 2018.  That was not fun.  Like at all.  But otherwise, it is almost always a blast no matter what state the body is in.  But, after 2021 I just felt like I'd had my fill of the Boston course and didn't need to tackle it again.  Like...ever.  In 2022, I ran a different spring marathon and then my family went away for spring break.  I had a slight pang of sadness and envy as my friends ran through the streets of Boston while I was in the Bahamas.  Very slight.  But my feelings on Boston remained the same.  I really didn't feel the urge to do it again.  Fast forward to December 2022.  

My teammates, Amy Bernard, Lauren Tilton and I, were meeting up for the Mill Cities Relay.  Always a fun event.  At some point during that day, perhaps as we were warming up or cooling down, or more likely as I was running my 9.7 mile leg and couldn't really voice my opinion one way or another, Amy casually suggested that we put a Masters (40+) team together for Boston 2023.  And then, also at some point during that day, Lauren pretty much confirmed she was in.  I can't remember if this was before or after she struggled to park her car.  Amy?  Sorry, I digress.  Anyway, as you'd predict, the plan was made and I was doing it whether I liked it or not.  The Whirlaway ladies would be tackling Boston 2023 together as a team.  Signed, sealed, delivered.  

And thus began our road to Boston.  Right after the holidays, the three of us, all coached by the great Ruben Sança of Lowell Running, would dive head first into one of the most grueling training cycles any of us have ever tackled.  Holy hell we did so many miles; most of them difficult and, thankfully, a lot of them together.  Long runs, marathon pace runs, tempo runs, hilly runs, marathon pace in our long runs, hills in our long runs, speed work in our long runs.  So. Many. Long. Runs.  We raced together twice; a 5k and a 15K.  We commiserated about running on our treadmills in the thick of winter (not that we aren't grateful to have them).  We complained about being tired.  We stressed about getting our work done.  But, if I'm being honest, across these past four months I have had a freaking blast.  And it is one hundred percent due to the fact that I have been training, suffering and celebrating with these amazing women who I am so lucky to call my friends.  I don't know how things are going to shake out for me next Monday.  Or for our team, for that matter.  But regardless of the outcome, it was a hell of a ride to get here.  So much love to both of you.  Let's do this.

Listen to this:

Take Me Back - Thunder Jackson (feat. Chet Faker)

Thunder Jackson · Take Me Back (feat. Chet Faker)