So I’m on sitting a plane somewhere over the northeast/mid-Atlantic crying. It’s 48 hours until the Boston Marathon and it Is finally sinking in that this is happening. That this is happening to me. That I am running the Boston freaking Marathon.
In my last post reporting on the Cherry Blossom Ten Miler I wrote about how blasé I’ve felt for months. How my training isn’t where it was this time last year; how devoid of motivation I’ve felt. Then I got a mental boost from Cherry Blossom, but within a day of that happy surprise I was most of the way back to mehhh. Everyone I know has asked me if I’m excited for Boston. Friends, colleagues, students, teammates, spouses, have all enthusiastically inquired about this upcoming culmination of goals-accomplished, and I’ve tried to muster a smile, a ‘yes,’ but I think it’s been clear that all those good people in my life have been more excited for me than I have been.
I think the problem has been an inability to believe this is really happening. The Boston Marathon is this epic mythical bucket race of all bucket races. It’s an icon. It has a history – good, bad, tragic. It’s a day when even people with 0.0 bumper stickers pay attention to our sport. And I just could not conceive that I was going to get to run it.
Well good news: I believe it now.
Bad news: I’m on an airplane and my belly just started believing it too.
—–Break—-
You were afraid I was going to start talking in depth about my digestive system weren’t you? Lucky for you right as I typed the line above the break our plane started its descent and I had to put my iPad away. Then I cabbed it to my hotel, checked in, changed into tights and sneakers so I’d blend into the sporty crowd, and hoofed it to the expo.
There I endeavored to spend my entire tax refund on gratuitously priced and branded items. And also on flavored beef jerky. The free glass of Sam Adams they hand you when you walk in definitely helped loosen my already loose purse strings Especially since my funky tummy issues this morning kept me from getting a good breakfast in. (Hence the appeal of all the jerky. Also, jerky is delicious. Especially mango jalapeño jerky. Which obviously I bought. [Not to worry Josh: I will not add it to my race day nutrition plan.])
Actual useful note to all who run this race (because I’ve realized most other athletes’ race reports offer much more helpful guides than my indulgent run-on sentences): budget what seems like an extreme amount of time at this expo. I arrived at 10am and the line to get in was down the block. (A long block.) Within ten seconds of my joining the line it had grown so long it disappeared around the corner. Fortunately the line moved pretty quickly, but it took about fifteen minutes just to get in the building.
Once inside the line meandered – and I do mean meandered (it’s crazy how slowly really fast runners can walk!) – two flights up at which point it was another ten minutes on yet another line to get to packet pick-up. The volunteers kept things moving as well as they could but it’s just a massive sea of people so you have to plan to do some waiting. At least that’s the case at 10am Saturday before the race.
Once I picked up my bib (14111) and shirt I made my way into the expo itself and wandered, mouth agape for over an hour. Intermittently buying things I wanted more than needed – the aforementioned jerky, shorts, a tank, a sweatshirt, a jacket, Boston Marathon-branded hair ties for ten freaking dollars, (seriously, how stupid is that?) and a new phone case. That last item probably sounds wacky but it’s the only one I actually did need.
While wandering waves of ‘yes-this-is-real’ washed over me. With them alternating sensations of excitement and apprehension because 26.2 miles is really long, no matter how well the day goes. And this will only be my fourth full marathon. Unless you count Ironman Chattanooga – and I’m asking you nicely not to. (I’ve actually had a fear that those online race sleuths who suss out BQ cheaters were going to find my Ironman stats and turn me over to Boston authorities because how can some who ran a 3:26:41 qualifying time last May have then clocked in at 5:27:30 less than four months later!)
But IM embarrassment and hell be damned, I did earn my bib and the right to be here. And I worked really hard to do so. Eschewing happy hours and sleep and office pastries and so many things normal people think are fun (and that I actually think are fun too!) to run and train and eat well. This time last year I had the fire in my belly (the good kind! Not the three-trips-to-the-porta-potty-plus-Imodium-pre-race kind!) to earn my way to Boston. My head and heart were in the game along with my belly and ultimately my legs.
As I’ve struggled to relocate the (good kind of) fire, finally being here has lit the flame. (Haha! Eww.) I know it’s finally real for me because, like I said earlier, I can’t stop crying at inopportune moments. Places I’ve cried so far today: boarding the plane. On the plane before taking off. On the plane in the air. On the tarmac in Boston. The women’s bathroom in terminal B at Logan International Airport. In the taxi. Boyleston Street walking to the Expo. While being handed my bib. Thirty seconds later as a volunteer took my picture with said bib. At least three times wandering the Expo. Again on Boyleston walking back to my hotel. While eating lunch and writing this blog.
I’m going to try to stop crying now as I dont want to be dehydrated for the race, but I think I can safely say this has finally sunk in. I’m really nervous for Monday, but I’m getting so pumped. And I’m really proud to have gotten here. There is a cool sense of camaraderie that, as a Yankee fan, I’ve never felt in his city before. I’m in awe of being around all these very fast-looking people, but I feel like I’m part of this event and not just watching the community from the outside. Above all I’m very grateful to my family and support team, especially my husband who makes this possible on many levels, (his sherping deserves its own post at some point,) my mama who I insisted come all the way from Mexico to be with me this weekend, and my coach, Josh, who helped get me here physically but who also talks me off a training ledge before every big event. (Also he let me use his Normatec the last two weeks.)
And thanks as well to all my friends who have sent me words of encouragement, who joined me for workouts, and who have let me know that they’ll be on the course or will be tracking me. I will try so hard not to embarrass you. I mean, I will try not to embarrass you with my running. I’m still 100% going to talk about the (bad) fire in my belly and how many times I went/go to the porta potties before/during this and every race to come.