Boston Marathon 2020 RR: The One During The Pandemic

When Boston was postponed until fall, I dreaded a summer of marathon training. Truth be told, I was pretty excited when it was moved to a virtual race for selfish reasons. The self-induced pressure of performing seemed much more relaxed if I was not being tracked. As the summer wore on, I felt like I was grasping at any ounce of fitness I could find, desperate to find a shred of my former self lurking inside.

The unknown of the impending months crept into my mind and though life is seemingly good all things considered in this pandemic, I couldn’t help but think that it is rattling me more than I can articulate. At first, I was jealous of those who seemed to be finding their stride in all of this. But then I realized that it’s just not where I’m at right now. And honestly, it’s the longest string of healthy and good feeling running I’ve had, despite feeling like I cannot go any faster than second gear. 

I originally had planned to run Boston on September 14th, the date that it was postponed to back in the spring. It gave me 5 days to recover until the Georgia Jewel 35-now-37-miler, but I was not really feeling excited about either race so I just kind of put it off planning for it. And then when it popped up on Final Surge on September 7th, the app my coach uses for my workouts, I was like, huh, guess I better decide. 

Even early last week I was still kind of on the fence about when and where I was going to run it. Weather was largely the deciding factor. When I saw that Labor Day Monday morning was looking good last Wednesday, I texted my coach and told him that I wanted to adjust my workouts down so I’d have fresh legs for Monday. After all, I’d run 30 miles over the prior weekend and though they were all easy miles, I knew that I was not optimally tapered. 

I bought a pair of Alpha Flys and they arrived in just enough time to put a few miles on them before the big day. Yes, they were not really necessary on the crushed gravel surface that I was running on, but I was grasping at straws for it to not feel like a complete bust.  

All the things I have come to anticipate with the race each spring were no longer the agenda for the weekend. The whole fanfare of the weekend is just as joyful as the race and it seemed odd to be “racing” without the added hype. As much as I tried to brush it all aside though, my brain definitely shifted into race mode about 36 hours from my chosen start time. It was weird. I was expecting to not feel any nerves or excitement and it was quite the opposite!

I started laying out my gear, my nutrition, and even my water bottles as early as Saturday afternoon. 

My plan was to use my car as the water/nutrition stop and run in 1 mile loops. This was so I didn’t have to worry about carrying anything, crossing streets, or calculating mileage. On race morning, I woke up at 5:25am, choked down half a giant bagel, drank half a cup of coffee, and filled up my bottles with water and Gatorade. Then, in keeping with good juju and tradition, I took a "Marathon Monday" selfie.

I got to the race “start” at around 6:15am and laid out my box of nutrition, hydration, bib number, and Spike (the stuffed unicorn, aka my cheer squad). It was still dark out so I popped on my headlamp and walked for a minute or so as the most modified warmup ever. And then without anyone watching, I began racing a marathon.

I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t weird. I was fighting off the urge to go too fast in the beginning as my legs felt fresh and the temperature was amazing. But I also knew that I was playing with house money. If I blew up, the worst that would happen was that I’d have to walk it in and feel a little sorry for myself. If it was my day, I could run a really great marathon. The phrase swing for the fences popped up in my brain a few miles in and while I knew I wasn’t in PR kind of shape, I was ready to just see what I had. 

The first hour went by really well. I was feeling good, not looking at my watch at all, just running by feel and counting the laps. I planned to take a gel every 4th lap and then water and/or Gatorade as needed. I took off my headlamp by around the 5th or 6th lap and enjoyed the sweet spot of the early miles, cool morning, and the sun still behind the trees. A layer of fog from the river hung in the field and while it was no match for the crowds of Ashland, it was a pretty decent consolation prize.

Miles 1 - 7: 8:17, 8:00, 7:58, 7:52, 7:42, 7:48, 7:40

Cars began to trickle into the park and I soon was sharing the space with other runners, walkers, a few cyclists, and even a few people dropping their canoes and kayaks into the river. Every once in a while, I’d have to dodge a larger group or hop onto the grass, but it remained pretty easy to navigate throughout the morning. I was tempted to check my watch for splits as the miles wore on, but I decided to save the runner math for later in the day and just keep running by feel.

Miles 8 - 13: 7:37, 7:39, 7:35, 7:40, 7:30, 7:46

At the end of mile 13, I paid homage to the Wellesley girls tradition and kissed Spike the unicorn as I stopped at my aid station to discard the gel wrapper from mile 12. I thought it might be a little weird that someone would see me kissing a stuffed unicorn, but shrugged internally and did it anyway.

As the miles crept further into the double digits, I started to feel the nag of negative thoughts and had to remind myself to just try to keep my headspace as neutral as possible. I give all my shoes names on Strava, partly to tell them apart, partly to give myself a little motivational boost. I happened to name my Alpha Flys “No Human Is Limited” ala Eliud Kipchoge and adopted that as my race mantra. Maybe it’s silly, but it distracted me briefly from the task at hand.

I finally allowed myself to look at what the time was around mile 14 and saw that I was actually running much better than I expected. I was definitely in the sub 3:30 range! 

Miles 14-15: 7:49, 7:33 

I picked up a gel at mile 16 and was getting excited that I was now entering into the portion of the run that I had less than double digits to go. I took huge swigs of water and Gatorade after tossing the wrapper in my trash bag and made the short little out and back turn. As I came past my car again, an immediate wave of nausea had me coughing and then stopping. I puked up a little bit of liquid, walked a couple of steps and then got right back in it. 

Miles 16- 17: 7:32, 7:59

As I came around the loop on the sunny side, I spotted a runner wearing a tank top that looked familiar. And then when I noticed her stride, I realized it was Chantal! She hopped right in with me and, spoiler alert, stayed with me to the finish. I was definitely working for every breath so I told her I wasn’t really able to talk much, but I was so relieved to have her there. It was definitely getting into the nitty gritty part of the run and after my puke, I was unsure of what the last hour or so was going to look like. 

Mile 18: 8:05

The two of us ran the loop and we were nearly to where I spotted her when we saw Jared leaning against his car in the parking lot. Wow, two surprise pacers! Luckily, both of them were able to talk and it was nice to just listen to snippets of conversation and interject every once in a while. I grumbled here and there about how hard marathons were and shouted out how much further I had left to go. 

I was stopping more often for hydration as the day warmed up. The sunny side was getting increasingly hotter and I felt myself pushing harder to reach the shade. My tank was sopping with sweat, but I didn’t want to waste any time removing it and hoped that the wetness would at least cool me off. 

 Miles 19 - 23: 7:37, 7:45, 7:56, 7:46, 8:00

With 5K to go, I knew that I had a sub-3:30 in the bag as long as nothing crazy happened over the final miles. It was definitely getting harder and I knew I was slowing down a bit, but having Chantal and Jared there helped me keep the pace honest. 

Miles 24 - 25: 8:03, 8:02

When I knew I had one more loop to go, I began doing a body check to see if I was going to have anything left for a finish line sprint. I wasn’t completely gassed and decided to wait until I hit the mile 26 mark. We neared the car and the Sullivans were there! I was so excited to see more friends AND know that I would be celebrating with them very, very quickly.

Mile 26: 7:40

When my watch chirped for mile 26, I gathered everything I had in me and just laid it out. Time seemed to stretch on forever as I pushed to the imaginary finish line. I checked my watch and gauged that a post in my sightline was far enough away to call it the finish line. I definitely did not want to be at 26.19 miles! So I called it out and as I crossed the “finish” saw it was enough to finally tap the stop button.

Last 0.2: 1:28

Ooof! 3:24:19

As I hunched over and caught my breath, I was so freaking excited to be done, have amazing friend support, and surprise myself with a great marathon time. It actually tied my 12th fastest time and though I died a little in the end, my second half was only 43 seconds slower than the first half (1:42:31 versus 1:41:38). And if I stick in all the asterisks I can about how it could have been better, I’m feeling really good about it. 

Once I collected myself, Chantal, Jared, and I started walking back to my car and met up with the Sullivans on the path. We all eventually wandered over to my car and stood around on a pretty perfect September morning, chatting and watching the kids play. 

It might not have had the crowds and the wild atmosphere of a Boylston finish, but I’ll hold onto tight to this one for different reasons. 

Boston Marathon Weekend 2019

The short version posted from my Instagram:

Boston, you are unlike any other. 🦄
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Every part of this weekend is so special. Picking up your number feels momentous. The people walking around Boston in their jackets from years past is captivating. Riding on a school bus to Hopkinton, holding your pee and trying not to sandbag your race is nerve-wracking. Sitting in the Athlete's Village amongst 20,000+ runners about to embark on the same journey is electrifying. 💙
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The half mile walk to start feels like the last day of school and the first day of a new job. The minutes waiting in the corral stretch for eternity and yet, go by way too fast. 💛
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The gun goes off. Thousands burst onto the street, hoping it is their day. We race the steep downhills to Ashland. We high-five the swollen crowds in Framingham. We settle into race mode in Natick. The Wellesley girls taunt us with their enthusiasm. The Newton hills challenge our spirit. The Boston College kids revive our hearts. 💙
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As we navigate the final miles of the streets of Boston, the crowds cheer unwaveringly. Shutting them out is impossible. When you think it can't get any louder, you make the right turn on Hereford and the left on Boylston. You. Have. Arrived. 38 marathons later (including 5 Bostons), I am humbled to be a finisher.

The longer version:

Boston, Boston, Boston. What to say? Chances are, if you are reading this, you know me and you know the outcome anyway. But if you want all the juicy details of what was swirling around in my head (or at least that I can recall), it's time to dig in.

I last left off with the story of running 70+ miles over crazy terrain, completing the Georgia Death Race on March 30th. Recovery was B-R-U-T-A-L. Large in part because I developed food poisoning of some variety the Monday after the race and couldn't eat anything for nearly 3 days. I should have been getting plenty of sleep and consuming calories and I couldn't do either. Anyone who knows me well knows I am always warm and I was wearing 3 jackets at work Monday afternoon! By the time the weekend rolled around, I was still feeling the lack of energy, but I had signed up to volunteer at Umstead 100 and made the 6-hour trek to Raleigh.

Midway through last week, I finally was feeling like me again and went out for a few short runs per my coach to get the legs moving again. Just some easy 3 milers, but it felt good to get the legs moving again!

Adam and I flew to Boston on Friday morning, hit up the expo Friday afternoon, and were zombies by the time Brad arrived at our Airbnb that night. I had the B.A.A. 5k in the morning, but had signed up as something to do and well, truth be told, I love the extra Boston swag.

Brad and I jogged a mile or so to and around Boston Common. It started raining a bit heavier so we took refuge under an awning for about 20 minutes before I lined up in my corral. I stood in the 7:00-7:59 pace area, without really thinking too much about my race strategy. The first mile was the usual dodge-the-walkers game and while it was kind of annoying, I was actually okay with being forced to just chill for a bit. I was able to get into a comfy pace in the second mile and once we reached Boylston, I was ready to lay on the gas for the final mile. Splits: 8:19, 7:18, 6:19, last 0.2 (cause of the weaving) was at a 5:52 pace.

Brad and I then went walked back to the Airbnb so he could get ready for the expo and I could relax a bit with Adam. We then met back up to go the Red Sox game and enjoyed seats right above the bullpen. The batting coach even tossed us a couple of baseballs! Though the home team lost, we still had a fun time and I enjoyed a chance to be off my feet.

Photo cred: Brad

For dinner, we met up with Ken and Glenn at the Five Horses Tavern for a little Loopster meet and greet.

Photo cred: Adam

Sunday was my birthday, but I enjoyed such a low-key day last year the day before the race that I really wanted to duplicate the calm again. We went to brunch near Boylston and then headed back to our place for the Masters Tournament and naps. I got a solid 2 hour nap and then went out to grab ingredients to make a pasta dinner at our place. Eating in our little apartment with a great friend and Adam was the perfect birthday evening and the perfect pre-race meal.

Photo cred: Brad

I laid out my flat girl, read a little bit, and slept like a champ!

Brad and I headed out just after 7 a.m. and the sky OPENED UP. We were wearing ponchos, but it was raining so hard it was comical. We just laughed and stomped through the puddles as we made our way to Starbucks (pitstop #1), bag check (pitstop #2), and finally got onto a bus to Hopkinton.

Sharing the bus ride with a friend was great and we talked about anything and everything on our way to the Athlete's Village. I was hoping to find Stephen when we got off so I suggested we beeline to our meeting spot when we got off the bus. However, the first wave was leaving by the time we arrived so we missed him. However, we got to see Ken for a minute before we hopped in the porta-potty line.

It was time for me to leave shortly thereafter so Brad and I said our good lucks and I made the half mile walk to the corral by myself. Luckily, Ken and I were in the same corral and he spotted me so we stood shoulder-to-shoulder, waiting for the gun to go off.

I really had zero idea as to how my body would react. I've run ultras, I've run marathons. But I've never run arguably one of my hardest races ever 2 weeks before running a marathon in which everyone is tracking me. I had nothing to lose by going fast - I already had a BQ for 2020 and if I blew up, I was confident that I would just walk it in, ultra-style, and wear that medal proudly after running for 18 hours just 2 weeks prior. As Ken said, I was playing with house money.

My coach suggested I start with 8:15-8:45 pace and I thought he knew me well enough to know that I'd translate that to 7:45-8:00 pace. When the gun went off, I resolved to just try to run by feel as much as possible and really just not look at my watch except at when it beeped for a mile. From the gun, I felt good. Unreasonably good. My legs had pop. My heart was happy. I was really, truly, authentically happy to be there.

I looked down at the first mile and saw it was too fast for either plan, but I was so relaxed, I just stuck with what felt good and decided to see what would happen. The miles ticked off as we cruised through Ashland and I knew I was racing, but I also felt arguably the best I had since the Jacksonville Marathon in 2017. Everything felt controlled.

As I rolled into Framingham, I remembered that if my day was going to fall apart later, I was at least going to make it fun. I high-fived the crap out of so many hands that I must have run with a cheesy grin for at least a few miles. I searched out the smallest little hands. The ones attached to shy little girls. I specifically remember seeing an older man's hand (before high-fiving it) that was caked in grime, seeing his tattered jacket, and thinking how it incredible it was that the Boston spectators spanned all walks of life.

The day warmed up quickly and I took water at every stop, dumping some into my mouth and some over my head. I read a book more recently about the physiological effects of splashing water on your face (lowering your heart rate) and dumped a bit in hand before throwing it on my face. I got a little overzealous at one point and doused myself good enough to blow out one of my earbuds. I stayed on track with my nutrition the entire race, consuming a GU Roctane every 4 miles through mile 20.

Last year, the wheels started to fall off in the second half with my boot to Boston race and I was bracing myself to feel the energy evaporate. But my legs felt strong and my mental game was stronger. I remember glancing at my watch around the hour and a half mark and thought, if I can run for 18+ hours 2 weeks ago, I sure as hell can push it for 2 more hours.

So I pushed it into Wellesley, past the screaming wall of girls shaking their posters wildly and pursing their lips for kisses. I high-fived their extended hands and smiled at their reckless enthusiasm.

The sun crept out behind the clouds as I made my way through the last sweet downhill before reaching Newton. I love and hate mile 15. The grade is just perfect enough to feel fast without ruining your quads, but I knew the climbs were awaiting me on the other side.

I attacked the first of the four Newton hills with fervor, picking runners off and as I made my way to the top. A few of them would catch me on the downs, but I’ll admit I felt a bit smug thinking about all the elevation I had tackled during GDR.

The second hill always feels the hardest and according to the elevation map, it is certainly the steepest. I knew I’d be rewarded with a nice bit of down afterwards so I held on until cresting the top. It was somewhere in this section that I somehow spotted Ken running not too far ahead of me. I knew his goal was 3:15 and I had been running pretty close to that myself so it wasn’t too surprising to see him given that we started in the same corral. He was moving well and I gave him a fist bump after following near him for about half a mile.

As I made my way to the third Newton hill and finally, Heartbreak Hill, I was still kind of in awe that I was still feeling reasonably okay. I was warm and definitely feeling the 19 or so miles on my legs, but I was still pushing. I didn’t look at my watch for a few miles and tried to run by feel. Good, bad, or otherwise, running 38 marathons has given me a good gauge of what I’m capable of in the final 10k.

Once I reached the roaring crowds of drunk Boston College kids, I allowed myself to do a bit of runner math. If I stayed on pace, I could stay under 3:20. The pain cave was trying to close in on me. My music sputtered and died and the crowd noise grew overwhelming. I tried to block out their deafening cheers, but they were relentless and the weight of their screams inched me in mile by mile.

I caught a glimpse of the Citgo sign and inwardly groaned as it looked still so far away. I hit the 40k mat and though so close to the finish, I desperately wanted water. I took the final cup at mile 25 and trudged up the hill. I tried to keep pace with the few runners who were still moving strong, staying far to the right and as much in the shade as possible. I flashed a smile for the Citgo sign photographers, relieved that there was just over a mile to go and it was going to be a sub-3:20 day.

As the course connected to the 5k route, I shouted a loud and lonely woo! inside the tunnel, a nod to myself to remember to keep it fun even when it gets hard as hell. Making the right on Hereford is arguably as good as the finish for me because I knew Adam would be waiting at the top. I started searching madly as the crowd along Boylston came into view.

When I heard him shout my name, I immediately spotted him and threw my hands in the air. I beelined directly to the side and gave him a quick kiss, my heart full and the finish line in sight.

I took off down Boylston, soaking in the cheers.

A runner who had collapsed had found her legs again and the crowd erupted as she started moving forward. I pushed as hard as I could, finding that final gear as I cruised through the final meters.

I. Was. Back. 3:18:28.

A few steps after the finish, I was overcome with emotion. I’d had some really great races (and some eh ones) since becoming injured last year and I was so unsure I’d ever be the runner I had been. And while it wasn’t a PR, it was the 4th fastest marathon I’ve ever run and only 4 minutes and 34 seconds slower than my PR. And only 2 weeks after I completed 74ish miles. I really, truly didn’t think I was capable of holding that kind of pace for 26.2 miles with such a short recovery time and I wasn’t really sure if I could go under 3:20 again.

But now knowing that I could do it on a muggy day with tired legs, it makes me excited to see what a healthy, marathon-specific training cycle could net me if I decided to attack a marathon the “right” way. I’ve got no immediate plans as Everest (!!!) is next on the list and then I promised myself I’d take a few weeks to really figure out what I want to do for fall.

It’s very likely that the next blog will be all about EVEREST!!

QC Takes On The Big Apple: NYC Marathon Race Recap

Arrival

Walking through the Sutphin Boulevard Metro station, it was apparent we were not in suburban Atlanta anymore. People moved rapidly. They were dressed in suits and jeans and everything in between. All ages. All races. Speaking a bevy of languages unless they had tuned out the noise with earbuds.

Adam and I waited as crowds dispersed from arriving trains. I wheeled the suitcase and carried the backpack, hauling it up stairs, and through each train transfer. When I found myself feeling burdened by the physical weight of our luggage and the mental weight of worrying Adam would fall or be too exhausted the rest of the weekend, I pushed the thoughts out of my head. I should be so fortunate to have the physical strength to handle the luggage and the endearing partner who treks all over the country to see me for 20 seconds doing the thing I love. I am LUCKY.

Expo

After a brief respite at Roger's hotel to drop off our luggage, the 3 of us hopped in a Lyft to travel to the expo. Approximately 3 blocks into the ride, our driver was pulled over by the police. Plainclothes officers appeared on both the right and left side of the vehicle. They instructed us, as passengers, that we were not being detained and that we had the right to leave the vehicle as long as we paid our fare for our travel thus far.

We opted to stay.

The driver got off with a warning after flashing a card that indicated his brother was in the police force. Apparently it is illegal to have an earbud in your ear as a taxi/Lyft/Uber driver in the state of New York.

Nearly 45 minutes and 1.7 miles later, we arrived at the expo. Roger and I picked up our bibs, bought some swag at the New Balance store, and the boys each bought a pillow from the official bedding sponsor. Roger and I picked up pace bands, found our names on the giant poster, and wrote our goals on a sticker wall.

As we were exiting the expo and attempting to take photos with the giant Shalane Flanigan poster, Roger spotted Jeannie Rice, the record holder for 70+ females. She ran Chicago a few weeks ago in 3:27!

Friday Night

After transferring our luggage to our Airbnb on 71st Street, the 3 of us sat down to a very nice Italian meal in the same neighborhood. It was a dreary November night and shared a warm meal in a tiny brick-walled room that oozed with history.

Saturday Morning

Leaving Adam to sleep for a bit longer, I headed out to Central Park for a short shakeout run. Our Airbnb was just 2 blocks from the park and I soon found myself running in one of the most iconic places in the world. The leaves were absolutely stunning and I was almost a bit disappointed that I only had 20 minutes worth of run. I ran into Ms. Ritz and wondered what kind of dumb luck I must have to find one of the few New Yorkers I know from the internet.

I grabbed coffee, roused Adam out of bed, and we headed downtown to meet with Roger and visit the World Trade Center Memorial.

To say it is moving is an understatement. The museum is located underground, between the two towers and was carefully thought out with each turn. I found myself choked up about things I hadn't thought of in many years and watched as Adam, who was in Manhattan on 9/11, recalled a day that will forever be scarred in his mind.

Saturday Afternoon & Evening

A group of Loopsters decided to meet at Parm, exactly 1 block from our Airbnb. We had lunch and introductions and talked nervously about the impending race in the morning. Our plan to meet up in the Athlete's Village was solidified. After lunch, we walked 1 more block to Magnolia Bakery and loaded up on sweets.

Everyone parted ways at this point. Adam and I took a brief nap and then watched football until it got dark. We ventured out to Broadway and 71st for counter pizza and brought it back to eat at our apartment.

I read a bit of Open by Andre Agassi (I know very little about tennis, picked this up after hearing it recommended on a podcast, and am really enjoying it!) and then went to sleep. I'm usually a good sleeper and marathon night is not much different. The nap meant it took me a bit longer to fall asleep and the strange rumbles from NYC woke me up a few times, but I felt reasonably rested when I woke up. The extra hour of sleep helped too as I don't normally get up at 4:50 a.m.

Race Day - Prerace

I planned to meet Roger at 42nd & Vanderbilt at 5:30 a.m. to take the bus to Staten Island together. I woke up, dressed, warmed up my coffee (that I bought at Starbucks the night before), and grabbed my prepacked race bag. I kissed Adam goodbye and headed to the train station. The 1 train was fast and I got on right away. I had a lovely chat with a woman in her 60s running her 44th marathon from Ottawa. Then I waited for the 7 train for at least 15 minutes in the Times Square station, knowing that it was getting closer and closer to the time Roger would no longer be waiting for me.

By the time I got to Grand Central, it was nearly 5:45 a.m. and Roger was long gone. I followed the huge crowd of runners around the library, covering nearly a mile in line before I got on an actual bus. I sat next to a guy from England and we chatted the first hour to pass the time. I ate my pseudo overnight oats (the ones I brought dumped all over the suitcase so I bought muesli at the corner store instead).

The bus stopped on the Verrazano Bridge and we waited. And waited. And waited. The last 2 miles of the bus ride took about an hour. It was well after 8:00 a.m. by the time we pulled up to the Athlete's Village and everyone rushed off the bus to get through security and finally(!!) pee.

I found the blue village and looked around for our pre-determined meetup spot without any success. I wandered around the whole village once, grabbing a bagel, and then decided to just save my legs. Not 10 minutes after sitting, the first wave was called.

I was really thirsty by this point. I had just had the cup of coffee and couldn't find a place giving out water. It looked like there might be some near or in the corral, so I headed that way. Unfortunately there was not any to be found. I took one more chance to pee and then sat in the corral in my jammies until it was about 20 minutes to gun time.

Already too warm in my arm warmers, I wrapped them around my waist. So now I had 6 gels in my sports bra, arm warmers around my waist, and I was thirsty. Oh, and I forgot anti-chafing stuff!

Race Start

Our wave started walking towards the bridge, climbing over the street we had just been parked on during the bus ride. The day is picture perfect. A few wispy clouds hang in the sky, but it is blue and crisp and there is hardly any wind. I feel a sense of patriotism as I walk up to the iconic start.

The pro men's group is announced and it occurs to me that I've never been this close to the elites before! They are only about 2 minutes ahead of me and while I don't see them from where I'm standing, there is something very special about racing right behind the world's best. After a short speech from the race director, the cannon is fired, and we are off!

The first mile is up, up, up. As we climb to the top of the bridge, we are offered an incredible view of the Manhattan skyline and the water below. Runners leap on top of the median to take photos of themselves and of each other all along the bridge. 8:29

After the up, up, up of the first mile, the second mile is an exhilarating down, down, down. With fresh legs and a warmed up heart, we hit the descent hard and fast and it is fun! 7:09

As the course enters Brooklyn, crowds begin to swell along the street and I fall into a more normal pace. I am working at a 70% effort. The foot is on the gas, but I'm conscious of how much further we have to go. I finally get a chance to get Gatorade and water and chug both down, ready to get to the next hydration stop for me. 7:30

Mentally, I'm in a weird place. My body seems to be working okay, but I'm not soaking in the energy of the crowds as I thought I would. I have my music blasting in my ears and maybe that is to blame for not feeling as jazzed by their presence. I'm latching onto other runners to stay with their pace, but everyone is still kind of sorting things out and the self-seeding is evident early. 7:30

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice someone getting close to me. Like, really close. And then I realize it is Stephen! We chat for a quarter mile, keeping our words clipped at short sentences, and ask each other how it's going, despite knowing it is far too early to make predictions. 7:35

I let Stephen slip away, focusing on my own race and look down at my watch only when it chirps off the mile splits. Considering I want to be at a 7:49 pace to hit a 3:25, I realize I am running pretty stupid. I start looking for the intersection that Adam said he used to live at in Brooklyn. 4th & 9th. When I get there, I imagine it is so much is the same and so much has changed from when he lived there. 7:36

I try to relax a bit. Drop my shoulders. Shorten my stride. Pull the reigns a little tighter. 7:22

Well, that didn't work. Soon thereafter, I find myself on the heels of the 3:25 group and happily fall into the giant bunch surrounding the guy with the foam Statue of Liberty hat. 7:32

I let the pacer do the work and find myself relaxing a bit, putting the mental work in his hands. I am finally feeling a bit better hydration-wise and am remembering to take my gels as planned. 8:03

Into the double digits, I was more relaxed as I tucked into the pace group. I started to take in the crowds a bit more as I released the mental work of pacing. Bands played music, spectators spilled into the streets, and our pacer riled up groups along the way. 7:44

I noticed views of the skyline as we wound around Bedford. The skyscrapers jutted out into the clear blue sky and the East River seemed to glitter. 7:48, 7:52

The course take a couple of sharp turns in the 13th mile and the crowds lining the streets box in the runners. There was something magical about trusting your fellow competitor to keep up the pace while running within inches of each other. 7:59

The Pulaski Bridge is open and exposed. The sun beats down as we near midday and I feel a sticking sensation on my left foot. A large stick with “Andrea” written on it is stuck to the bottom of my shoe. There is no way to grab is mid-stride so I veer to the left and rip it off. 7:53

Climbing towards the Queensboro Bridge and onto the bridge is unsettling. The pacer has backed way off the pace to allow for the climb and I’m raring to just get it over with. But I know there is still more than 10 miles to go and I’m not willing to risk going ahead yet. 8:26, 8:34

The pack reaches the highest point of the bridge and then we are flying! Bounding down the backside of the bridge rattles my quads and I’m loving every second of the sweet downhill. 6:38

As we hit the streets of Manhattan for the first time, the roar of the crowd is deafening. We fly down the street and while I’m working, I’m also feeling reasonably okay considering I’m reaching the point where it can start to get tough. 7:05

I stay with the pace group for another mile and a half, but the fast miles have me jazzed and I break ahead on the Willis Avenue Bridge. It feels bold and decisive, but I’m suddenly feeling free to push the pedal a bit harder. 7:27, 7:35

The next two miles takes us around two blocks where we can see competitors ahead. I’m beginning to pass more and more people. All the gels have caught up with my stomach and while I feel nauseous, I repeat to myself to “stay strong between the ears”. 7:51

Somehow I remember to take a gel at mile 22 even though I’m in the mode of just-get-to-finish. It may have zero effect on my final miles, but all I think about is looking strong if I can spot Adam near the finish. 7:25

Fifth Avenue is PACKED with people and I am grabbing high fives from little kids and pumping my fists at spectators who catch my big grin. I know it is cheesy to be racing at mile 23 with a big grin on my face, but I can’t hide the fact that I’m excited to be in line for meeting my goal. 7:19

There is a steady incline at mile before entering the park and while I feel my stride shortening and my heart pumping faster, I know to save the real work for that final mile. 7:55

Entering Central Park is everything and nothing as I imagined it. The crowds are thick under the yellow-leaved trees and loved ones busily scan the runners, looking for their person. The downhill feels good after the last slog on Fifth and even though I know it is early, I start looking for Adam to my left. 7:35

When I finally see the mile 25 sign, I am on the verge of being frantic. I want so badly to see Adam that I can’t conjure up the course map in my head and panic a bit when I don’t see him after taking the first right.

It isn’t until I see the turn at Columbus Circle that I remember he said he would try to be closer to the grandstands and I crane my neck, hoping he sees me. The sea of people seem so vast. But then suddenly I hear him calling my name and I’m practically leaping as I make my way over to him. I give him (and the people around him) a high-five and I’m so, so happy! 7:42

Coming into the finish line stretch, I am just simply happy. The grandstands are roaring, the flags of the nations are lining the streets, the competitors are giving it their final push to the finish, and it is a stunningly beautiful fall day in New York. Last 0.6 in 7:30

I knew there was no way I was going to be in PR shape, but I did know that I was prepared to potentially have a BQ. I put a lot of thought and effort into my workouts and strength-training going into the race to get me to the start (and finish!) line uninjured. To finish with 3:24:19 was a perfect day at the races.

Post Race

As I was smiling like the biggest goober, overwhelmed with the sense of completion after collecting my medal and heatsheet, someone appeared close to me again. Stephen! How on earth we ran into each twice in an event of 50,000+ people is beyond me. It was perfect to walk through the finish chute together, decompressing the race.

I honestly don’t remember what we even discussed in our post-race euphoria (delirium?), but I felt this sense of completion as we collected our too-heavy-for-post-race food bags and made our way to the ponchos. Maybe it was because I had great company or maybe because I had a great race, but I thought the poncho/exit walk was not as long as I had heard. I was almost a little sad when it was time to leave and make my way back to the apartment - which was delightfully 2.5 blocks from the poncho exit!  

I immediately jumped into the shower at the Airbnb and heard voices while in the tiny bathroom. I thought they were coming from one of the nearby apartments, but then realized that Adam must have made it back with someone in tow. Brad’s wife Nancy had found the apartment!

I got dressed, sat down for a bit, and then felt a bit nauseous. The water and chocolately Gatorade protein drink I had just consumed came right back up. Luckily, not only did I make it to the bathroom, but I felt 1,000 times better afterwards.

Soon Gwen and Brad were there and we lazed around for a short while, waiting for Roger to arrive. The group then went in search of food and wound up at a classic NY diner. Scott joined us soon thereafter and then we squeezed in Liz and one of her local friends. Everyone was in good spirits, chatting and enjoying the post-race glow.

A smaller group went to a nearby whiskey bar for another round and soon our group dwindled to 3 with Roger and I sipping beers and finishing the last of the hummingbird cake. Life is good when the weekend ends surrounded by friends with tired legs, a happy heart, and a tummy full of beer and cake.