Wake-up time was 4am. Maybe I take too much of a risk in only setting one alarm, but that's all I ever wind up doing. To date, I've always gotten up instantly. This time was no different.
So, after eating my standard pre-race meal (granola bar and banana) and using the bathroom multiple times (obsessively make sure "one last time" that I've "done my business") amid putting on my running kit for the day (this time including arm warmers/sleeves and contact lenses, given the expected cool rain), I gathered up everything that I neede for my post-race checked bag, and the food and drink I would be using on-course, put on my pre-race poncho and headed out the door at 5am. By 5:15am the inbound T had arrived, and I was off! I wound up getting to Arlington station a little before 6:15am, and made a beeline through the bag check area towards a bagel shop that I had discovered the day before -- it had smelled great and was definitely popular. Great, let's get a good bagel to eat on the bus ride out. Nope! The store was not opening (and ordinarily, it would have opened at 5am), at least not that morning. (Fools!) Damn it. Do I really want to have a bagel on-hand? Yeah, I kinda do (since they haven't provided them at Runners' Village since before the pandemic). You guessed it: Dunkin' run #4. But, on my way, so that I didn't add an excessive additional amount of needless walking, I made sure to drop off my checked bag before heading to the Dunkin' store just across the street from where the bus loading occurs.
Sigh. Not a good bagel. Passable for my needs at the time, but not desirable. The one good thing that I figured I'd be able to take advantage of by being a customer was a real bathroom. (Always go one more time when you get the chance, especially in a real bathroom rather than a port-a-potty.) Nope! The gates on the bathroom that was actually in the courtyard area of that building was closed. (Not really surprising, after all.)
So, after these two disappointments, I made my way to the holding area, waiting for security to start letting everyone through to the buses. Finally, a few minutes behind schedule, they opened up. I wasn't overly worried about making sure I was on the very first wave of buses, so I made my way towards one of the port-a-potties right before the final queues for the buses.
Back in the throng with everyone else, I made my way towards what would eventually be the the first bus in the line. They shunted the long line for my bus into two shorter lines. But rather than making it into a regular snaking line, they just made it into two separate lines that fed to the door, because "that's how lines work." Whatever. We're all getting on the bus, who cares what order?
Our ride out was uneventful, and we got there after about 1 hour, as expected. Almost totally fogged in, but not yet raining, nor excessively windy. Not all that bad. Yep, one more time to the port-a-potty before going into the tent area to just sit awaiting the time when Wave 1 is permitted to leave Runners' Village and make its way to the corrals. The hour passes pretty quickly. Right before we line up, I actually cross paths with a colleague from work. Last year he was wearing a singlet and shorts and had no throwaway or mylar blanket, and was shivering non-stop until I handed him an extra mylar I had with me. This year, he learned from that and was wearing some warm throwaway clothing. After exchanging some brief pleasantries, we were off to our respective holding pens. I was in Corral 7, but he was in Corral 4. (Nice!) While waiting for our turn to be let go towards the start, one of the runners announced the birthday of a first-time Boston Marathoner in our corral, and he got a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday" sung to him. A few minutes later, and we were off on our near-mile walk to the corrals!
Time gets close, so I swap out my pre-race poncho (but tuck it in behind my belt) and put on the mylar to stay warm enough. Less than 5 minutes before the starting gun it starts to rain, pretty steadily. (sigh) About 1 minute before the gun, despite the rain continuing (but not as heavily), I shed the mylar and prep my Garmin. And then, soon enough, WE'RE OFF!
(At the top of the hill leading out from the Starting Line)
There were two spots on the course where I was expecting friends to cheer me on. The first spot was around Mile 7-8, but there was the known possiblity they would not arrive by the time I expected to pass the spot. Alas, that was the case. I think they arrived about 15-20 minutes later, as it turned out. Oh well. Still having a good time using the energy from the crowd lining the course.
The next location was an unknown as to specifics. I knew that I should be looking on the left side of the road at Wellesley. Despite having run this multiple times before, it hadn't really sunk in just how many miles comprise Wellesley. First up was the Scream Tunnel. As always, you could hear the roar about ½ mile in advance, if not more. It's AMAZING just how energized these ladies are, screaming their lungs out. Rather than do the typical gestures for increased volume (such as throwing your hands up, or circling your hand above your head as if you had a towel you were twirling there), I tend to go for the taunt of putting my cupped hand to my ear as if I can't hear them.
This works wonders for getting even more cheers from the co-eds for those of us going by. And it's a lot of fun.
This doesn't do any justice to just how packed the campus is with screaming women cheering on the runners.
A couple of miles later, around Mile 15, is where my friend Maria was stationed for cheering on me, her other friends running the race, and everyone else. It's always nice seeing a familiar face in the crowd.
I attacked the Newton Hills in the same patient way that I've learned to do so that I can continue at a running (though slower) pace, rather than walking any of them. At the bottom of Heartbreak Hill, while I was looking to the right because I finally noticed the statue of John Kelley (I think that's what that was, at least -- and it's only taken 6 times running to notice this statue), I heard my name, rather unexpectedly. (As you noticed, my name was not printed on my bib. So either someone was cheering me or there was another Jared nearby. I assumed the former.) Lo and behold, one of my friends' sister and her husband were there -- totally unexpected as I had been given the impression they wouldn't be in town. Very nice surprise! Helped give me an additional boost as I was starting on the worst of the four hills.
Soon enough, I was past Newton (yes!) and making my way towards Brookline (whereupon there was about a 5 minute downpour for me), then to and past the iconic Citgo sign to get to the last mile.
While I'm always counting to four in Newton (the hills), I'm always saying the same mantra during the last mile: "Down the hill, up the last hill, right on Hereford, left on Boylston!"
(The iconic final turn onto Boylston.)
Boylston with about ¼ mile left to go. As is my custom since the memorials were erected, as I passed each memorial, I doffed my hat in honor of the victims and continued on to the finish.
While I had long since given up on my time-specific goals (a BQ of 3:25 and a stretch goal of a NY qualifying time of 3:14), finishing in 3:32:08 is still not shabby. And seems to be close to my average performance for Boston.
Gradually, I made my way through the post-race area, getting my medal, mylar blanket, food and drink, and then collect my gear check bag. Since I wasn't meeting anyone, I was able to quickly make my way towards the Prudential Center (since I wanted to get my medal engraved at Under Armour, rather than dealing with the wait and the line at Marathon Sports on Tuesday morning). As I proceeded, I savored the King's Hawaiian rolls that were included -- oh, those are heavenly at this point. Thankfully the way that I started out, I came across an open loading bay where there were several people changing out of wet clothes and into dry, warm clothes. I took advantage and got my soaked singlet and arm warmers off and put on the long-sleeve shirt I had packed, and then the NYC Marathon poncho -- a godsend of a warm piece of clothing.
Eventually I made my way to Under Armour and, given the timing compared to when I was planning to meet up with friends for dinner, I decided against getting a lunch.
The decision made plenty of sense when I made it, since it was about 2:15 - 2:30pm when I got into the T Station at Prudential Center. But unbeknownst to me at the time, and what would take MBTA about 30-40 minutes to properly inform us, there was a Green Line train disabled at Boylston. So, we had to walk to a different station on the Orange Line. Ugh!!! By the time I finally got back to the hotel (given not only the additional delays of getting the initial train and then the transfer, but also the immensely slow stretch between two of the stops on the Red Line), it was about 5pm. There was NO WAY that I would be able to shower, change, and get to the restaurant for 6pm. Oh well. I let my friends know that I wouldn't be able to make it, then took my time with making myself human again, and then figured out whether there was some place close to my hotel that I could get dinner. Thankfully, yes. It was only ½ mile to get to the restaurant. And a tasty choice it was.
Cheese tortellini alfredo (which I hadn't eaten in at least 25-30 years) with grilled chicken and garlic bread. Boy, howdy, did I wolf that down quickly. And despite there being several good desserts on the menu, I held off, since I still had a chocolate cream cannoli awaiting me in the hotel fridge.
Early enough evening where I could pack up most of my stuff, leaving only a little extra for the morning, and then relax, conking out relatively easily.
What an amazing journal
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