Ten years pass and I’m keen to take on another big challenge. I had run a few marathons earlier in my career, but I was just outside the Boston qualifying standard. Now, after recently turning 40, the standard dropped enough to be in range. Although marathon was never my best distance, the allure of Boston beckoned.
I realized that Boston is really a two (or more) year process. First, you have to qualify, then you have to prepare to run the big one. To help bolster my motivation and resolve for the long commitment, I took some inspiration from other runners. Not the other runners who were also doing Boston, but the ones who weren’t. It’s tough to qualify for Boston, and there are many a dedicated and fanatical runner who would do anything to run Boston, but for a multitude of different reasons, cannot make the cut. I dedicated my run to them. That sense of purpose beyond myself became a driving force.
I qualified for Boston on my first attempt. I didn’t make the cutoff by much, but I made it by enough. Now the dream of Boston was becoming my reality. I needed to put together an “A” marathon. I wanted to see if I could break the three-hour barrier. I gathered all of my training knowledge and worked up a plan. I kept to my schedule and pumped up my motivation. I was ready for race day.
In a gesture to the runners who weren’t there, I carried a disposable camera with me so I could take a picture every mile or so. (This was back in the days before smartphone cameras and live selfie streaming, if you can imagine.) I wanted to share the experience back with them so they could get the Boston experience, if only indirectly. I had a monthly magazine column at the time, so I did a photo-story of my Boston adventure.
While the photos and the story turned out well, my race wasn’t the kind of glorious success I had at Muncie. I was on pace to hit the three-hour mark through the first 10 miles or so, but then my quads started to get chilly and tighten up. I tried everything I could think of to loosen them up, but nothing helped. At about 15 miles, I had to walk a bit. My sub-three-hour dream was gone, but I could still set a PR. Then I had to walk some more. Good-bye PR.
But this race wasn’t just about me, it was about my inspiration runners, too. I had to come to terms with the fact that my personal goals were out the window, but I could still finish, and I could still share the experience. Recalculating – in mid-race. Just get me to the finish line. I’ll still be a Boston finisher. I’ll satisfy my pledge. Life will go on.
Ironically, the part of the race where I felt best was going up Heartbreak Hill. While the modest hill is often the biggest challenge for the runners, the incline was actually favorable to my stiff legs. So, while others suffered, I actually picked up the pace a bit. The ensuing downhills were painful, but at least I had a little enjoyment from passing others on the hill, if only for a moment.
I made it to the finish line. I got my finisher’s medal. I ran the slowest marathon of my life. But at that point, I was happy just to be there. It wasn’t the result I had hoped for, but it taught me not to focus so much on those kinds of details. While goals are good, sometimes you have to let go and embrace the moment without judging it. A little perspective goes a long way.