| Boston
Marathon
Race Report from Josh Saak: Boston 2008 Introduction It’s been a long time coming, but after a seven-year absence, I found myself in Boston for the 112th edition of their “little” running event. Why this year in particular? It seemed like a good idea just over a year ago when, as a Charlotte resident, a couple of running buddies were thinking along the same lines. It would be the 10th anniversary of my first Boston Marathon, so good symmetry there. That, and my previous running in 2001 did not go as well as I would have liked it to. I ended up with a 3:04:20, a PR at the time, but those hills did get the best of me. I was hoping not to repeat the same experience. Training I started to ramp up the miles back in December, just as the weather here in Boise started to turn less than desirable for long distance running. Granted, it was never really all that cold, but we certainly did get our share of precipitation. But I can say I was consistent in my mileage, even breaking into the mid 50 miles per week on a regular basis. My schedule was pretty well set with a Sunday long run, Tuesday speed/strength session (hills, tempo, and track work), Wednesday easy, Thursday double (morning hills, evening easy), and Saturday trail run. I also worked in three days of swimming per week and the occasional weight workout. The mileage portion of the training schedule was a little heavier than previous strong efforts, but not significantly so. I was able to handle much of it pretty well, avoiding any significant injuries or lapses in time on my feet. I can thank some of the folks around here for the motivation on those cold morning hill repeats. The Goal I was certainly hoping for a strong showing in Boston, much like the other 22,000 folks who would toe the line on that mid-April day. I didn’t run many races in the winter or spring, but I was able to run a fairly challenging half marathon near Chicago five weeks prior to race day to gauge my fitness. Ironically enough, this race was my first half marathon 14 years ago and was also part of my racing schedule in 2001 for my last Boston attempt. I ended up running 1:20:22 with a not quite all out effort, my second fastest half marathon ever. This was a good sign, proof that those hard Tuesday morning efforts were paying dividends. I had my goal set on 2:50 as a “reachable” target. I felt 2:48 could happen on a good day, while 2:46 was possible if I was hitting all cylinders (and possibly a significant tail wind at the same time). Having run 2:52:15 in Myrtle Beach in February 2007, I didn’t feel any of these were out of the realm of possibility (though that 2:46 would be a tough one to reach). The Trip - Friday Boston is such a tremendously historic city; I felt like John Adams or Paul Revere could be sipping a pint of ale in any local brewpub I might happen to walk into. Still, Logan Airport is not the cheapest place to fly into, particularly if you are coming from across the country. So I flew into Providence, RI instead, a slightly grittier, if not also historic city an hour to the south by commuter rail. The Providence Biltmore is where I stayed Friday night, an historic hotel (built in 1922) right in the heart of downtown. After a short swim at the local YMCA, I found some dinner at a local eatery and headed back to the hotel for a good night’s sleep. Or, considering the time difference, a rather fitful sleep. The Trip - Saturday A short run on Saturday morning brought me by Brown University and the Rhode Island School of Design (affectionately known as RISD). Brown certainly is your prototypical Ivy League campus, with large old buildings surrounding a tree-shrouded quad. It was a mere three miles, but it felt good to get out and stretch the legs a bit. A short hour train ride on the commuter rail version of the famed Boston “T” brought me into Boston, where I met up with Mr. Scott Woodbury. He flew in from Charlotte and was able to squeeze in a couple miles before we headed out for some lunch and packet pickup at the Hynes Convention Center. What a madhouse! The 2001 version of the marathon had a mere 13,000 finishers; the 2008 version would have closer to 25,000. I’m not one for crowds (neither is Scott) so we made haste, acquired the necessaries (for Scott, that included the “necessary” Boston Marathon jacket) and made our way back to the hotel after a brief stop at the conveniently located Trader Joe’s right across the street. Mr. Pete Kaplan was at the hotel upon our return, his flight from Charlotte right on time. Pete is a veteran of nearly 60 marathons and quite a few ultras with a marathon PR somewhere in the 2:28 range. One of his claims to fame (as if a 2:28 marathon isn’t enough) is that he says he has photographic proof that Rosie Ruiz’s infamous 1980 Boston Marathon “win” is indeed the hoax everyone knows about (except Rosie Ruiz, who to this day claims she is the rightful winner). While Pete is a bit removed from his fastest times, he is still someone I look to in awe for thirty years of very fast marathon times. The Trip - Sunday I woke up relatively early on Sunday for an easy two plus mile run (with a few 15 second pick-ups) around the Boston Common and Public Garden. Everything was set up for the Women’s Olympic Marathon Trials to be held that morning on a 6+mile loop course through Boston and Cambridge. We found a spot where we were able to see the leaders at least ten times through the course of the race and watched Deena Kastor catch Magdelena Levy, the leader for most of the day, and be the first qualifier for Beijing. It was a great day for racing, though a tad on the windy side, and a thoroughly worthwhile way to spend the morning. After a nice lunch, we returned to the hotel to relax a bit after all the walking we had done that morning. Pete and Scott wanted to get a couple of easy miles in while I wanted to visit the former site of Braves Stadium, home of the Boston Braves until they moved to Milwaukee after the 1952 season. It is located on the Boston University campus, an easy streetcar ride on the Green Line. While the field no longer exists, certain elements were kept when Boston University build a soccer field around the old field. Some of the structures of the old right field bleachers still remain, as does the old ticket office, which now appears to be office space for the university. No trip to Boston is complete (at least if you’re a runner) without a trip to the North End for some fine Italian cuisine. There was one major difference between this trip and the one seven years ago; the trip via subway seemed, well, different, as if something were missing. I then realized: where park and open space now exists used to be a hulking mass of expressway affectionately known as the Central Artery, or Interstate 93. The result of the “Big Dig”, this controversial $14 billion project created a tunnel underneath Boston to carry more than 150,000 vehicles per day. As a transportation engineer, I can certainly appreciate the complexity of such a project, even one that cost far more than anticipated and took a good deal more time to complete. On face value, however, from a pure design standpoint, the result is nothing short of astonishing in how it transforms the city. After dinner and the
obligatory bakery stop, it was back to the hotel for an early
night and an attempt at a good night’s sleep. The Trip – Monday (Race Day!) Pete’s alarm rang about 5:30 am; mine sounded a few minutes later. Aroused from a decent night’s sleep, I dressed in the requisite “waiting attire”, ate some breakfast (granola, a banana, part of a bagel, and a surprisingly decent cup of coffee from the Flavia machine in the hotel lobby) and headed off to the meet the buses for the trip to the starting line. Scott found a decent hotel at a decent price (Chandler Inn), a six-block walk to the buses and a mere five blocks from the finish line. This made race day logistics a cakewalk. At my previous Boston attempt in 2001, there were approximately 13,000 entrants. This year, that number would be closer to 25,000 entrants (with nearly 22,000 finishers). The folks running the show have 111 years of history to not only uphold, but also supplement according to the laws of accommodating hordes of anxious runners. Needless to say, they have this down to a science. A few changes have been made since my last running. First, the race now has two waves (not including the elite women’s race, wheelchair competitors, and physically challenged athletes). Second, the first of those waves now starts at 10 am, the second at 10:30 am. I like this change, it substantially truncates the amount of time one must spend in the mass of humanity waiting at the “Athlete’s Village” near Hopkinton high school. It also allows runners to avoid most of the warmest of the warm days that do occur in Boston in the middle of April. It was a long bus ride out to Hopkinton, not made any easier by the traffic jam created at the rather rural interstate exit off of I-495. By the time we arrived in Hopkinton a good hour and fifteen minutes after departure (not including the 20-30 minute wait to get on the bus), many runners had bladders that were fairly strained, to put it mildly. The woods near the bus drop off provided instant relief, until the local law enforcement arrived. Officer not-so-friendly didn’t exactly approve of the natural fertilizer (free of charge!) and took some names (or, in this case, numbers). Not exactly a good omen, but it sure beat standing in the port-o-john lines! The earlier start meant that Scott, Pete and I didn’t have a whole lot of time to spare until we were herded to the start line. I made one more stop off for another nature call, wishing Scott and Pete a good journey to Boston (Scott would be in my starting corral, I would see him shortly). By 9:40 am, after dropping my finish line bag at the buses and a 0.7 mile walk to the start line, I entered Corral #1, right behind the truly elite athletes. My previous times here placed me in Corrals #3 and #4, so it was somewhat unique to be so far up in the queue with all of the truly fast people. The sun started to peek out from behind the clouds, though temperatures were very reasonable in the low 50s (they would stay there pretty much the entire run) with very little wind. So much for weather as an excuse for not running well… A few minutes before the start, the elite athletes were led out in a line from their separate holding area. This included seven-time Tour de France winner Lance Armstrong (#100), whom I was barely able to catch a glimpse of. His goal was in the 2:45 range, close to mine, so I figured I might have a chance of seeing him on the course. This thought turned out to be more prophetic than I had planned. A quick Air Force fly-over, the Star Spangled Banner, and at 10 am on the nose, the starting gun sounded and we were off on our way to Boston. We would pass through eight communities (Hopkinton, Ashland, Natick, Framingham, Wellesley, Newton, Brookline, and Boston) on our way and experience a 400-foot net drop in elevation, half of that coming in the first 3.5 miles. It is exceedingly difficult to restrain oneself from running too quickly in the first few miles on this course, as it has a way of coming back to haunt even the strongest and well-trained of runners. Seemingly like a roller coaster, the first ¾ of a mile is very downhill, almost uncomfortably so. There is a slight rise before the one-mile marker, which I passed in 6:15, a little quick. Still mostly downhill, though not as steep as the first, mile two passes in 12:37, a little closer to the pace I hoped for. Though we are only 24 miles from the heart of Boston, Hopkinton and Ashland “feel” like quintessentially small New England towns, with Colonial style homes and cute as a button downtowns. Even at this early stage, spectators lined the streets. Even the local biker bar in Ashland had a cadre of well wishing men and women that just happened to be not-so-clean shaven (the men, mostly) and a bit on the burly side. Mile three, still mostly downhill but starting to roll just a bit, passed in 19:00, 5K in 19:42. Beyond this point, I don’t really have exact numbers for my mile splits, as I was wearing a heart rate monitor that didn’t have that capability. Some I remember, but I will need to refer to the BAA website for 5K splits when I need an exact number (minus the 11 seconds it took to cross the starting line). Right around mile four, I’m wondering when my legs will come around. The pace doesn’t feel like I’m straining, though I feel a little sore and more tired than I should be at this point in the race. I keep telling myself they will come around; it usually takes an hour for this to happen from previous experience. I try to back off the pace slightly, aiming for miles in the 6:25 range, which makes for 20-minute 5Ks. This would put me right at 2:50, maybe slightly under. A good thought, but it was still early. Cruising through downtown Framingham, passing by the fairly historic train station (a time point in past races before the advent of mile markers), the 10K mark passes in 39:44. The free-for-all madness of the early miles settles down as the course flattens and rolls ever so slightly. I’m no longer being passed like I’m standing still, but I do feel like I’m falling into a nice rhythm. Only twenty more miles to go… Past Framingham, on the road to the wall of sound that is Wellesley, 15K is reached in 59:43, and I’m feeling good; actually I’m feeling very good, the best I’ve felt all race. I say a quick word of caution to myself, knowing that these are the “danger” miles, where one can find a false sense of self and pace. I try and maintain my current effort, and ten miles pass in just under 1:04. I strike up a brief conversation with Chris Toepfer, a runner from Chicago (I recognized his “Universal Sole” singlet, a Chicago running store). Chris is a great runner; I remembered his name from previous race results from way back in the day growing up in the area. Some quick post-race checking shows that he has run a 2:38 marathon as recently as two years ago (he’s in his mid 40s), so I’m not sure what he’s doing running back here. He was struggling a bit and dropped back around 11K, but it was good to talk with someone from the “home land”. You don’t need a “Now Entering: Wellesley” sign as a reference to your progress on Patriots’ Day. You hear it, from up to a mile away. It is truly a “wall of sound”; you hear about it from previous race participants, you know it’s coming, but there isn’t much in the marathoning world that approaches it. For a good ½ mile, Wellesley College students line the road, four or five deep, providing a huge boost before you hit the 20K mark (passed in 1:19:30). Ears still ringing (not an exaggeration), I barely noticed that half of the race was behind me, 1:23:51 after I had started (somehow, my chip didn’t register across the mat). Under 1:24 was my goal, so things were going to plan up until now. Looking at the course profile, one can’t help but be reminded that the lowest elevation before the finish in Boston is near the 25K (1:39:21, a PR for that distance). There is a sharp downhill before crossing the Charles River; of course, when you cross a river, invariably you must go back up. This is the first of the “significant” hills entering Newton that no one tells you about. It’s not all that steep, but it is noticeable, a sign of things to come. I’m still feeling pretty good, though not exactly “fresh”. I know my pace has held steady, still clicking off miles very near 6:30. Then, at about the 17.5-mile mark, you make the dreaded right turn where the race really begins. Stories abound of how race leaders make their move on the Newton hills, breaking their weaker competitors. In a race with a 111-year history, it’s not hard to find them. There are three hills of significance; all get your attention, though the second isn’t nearly as long or as steep as #1 or #3 (Heartbreak Hill). They arrive over a three plus mile stretch, and each is followed by a little flat or downhill reprieve. Once you get to mile 21, there are but five, mostly downhill miles to go into Boston. The 30K mark is near the end of the first hill. I break the two hour mark (barely, at 1:59:51) which is also a PR for that distance, though I’m starting to realize and appreciate the efforts of the prior 18.6 miles. In other words, the pace is slowing. The next couple of miles are in the 6:40 range, and even though my pace is slowing, I’m not being passed by all that many folks. Mile 20 is very near the start of Heartbreak Hill, reached in just under 2:09. I came in with the thought that this would hurt a little at this point, so I was prepared for it, but getting past the crest of the hill would mean just 5+ miles to go, mostly flat and downhill. Mile 21 was my slowest of the day; I seem to recall near 7:10, mostly up the hill. I thought once I crested Heartbreak Hill I would have sufficient reserves left over to bring it back to 6:30 pace or faster to the finish. This would get me the goal time of 2:50 I was seeking. It was a nice thought, though it didn’t quite happen as planned. Trying to get my legs to move much faster than about 6:50 pace was an exercise (no pun intended) in futility. My breathing was fine, but my legs were shot. 35K passed in 2:20:56, so I knew that my 20-minute per 5K pace was falling behind. Even with four plus miles remaining, while your body is screaming “enough, already!”, it is pretty much a done deal that a finish is in the making. Truly, the mental marathon game is one that necessitates an open mind, where past experience becomes an enormous advantage. You’ve been here before, you will do this. A little slower than earlier in the day, but it will be done. I know there are cheering crowds as I pass by Boston College (drinks in hand…hey, is that water?) but I don’t really hear them. I’m wearing my old Montreal Expos hat, an enormous advantage when I am seen on TV as Lance passes me just after mile 23. I must have passed him early in the race and didn’t even notice, though with the mass of humanity at the start, I’m not terribly surprised. He was in a group of about a dozen runners, though some may have been Lance’s “handlers”, to keep the riff raff away from him. I wasn’t too sure at that point, though I was hoping the curses I uttered under my breath as he passed didn’t show up on the live broadcast.
At 2:42:38 into the race, I pass 40K, just under a mile and a half to go, the Citgo sign in front of me, Fenway Park to my right. One mile to go; I need a 6:45 final mile to break 2:52. Under Massachusetts Avenue, right on Hereford, left on Boylston, and the finish is in sight. Gosh, it’s further than I remember, but no matter, enjoy the crowd. Mile 26 painted on the ground, the library, the Old South Church, and I’m there, finally, in 2:52:01 (by my watch), good enough for 543rd place (out of nearly 22,000 finishers). I see Scott; he’s run a great race, finishing in sub-2:48 fashion, though the hills took the same toll on him. Pete is just behind me in 2:55, same story. We grab our bags from the bus and head back to the hotel with stories to share. Epilogue Though I did not reach my goal of breaking 2:50, I still ran a PR by 14 seconds, and I just can’t be too upset at that. Still, I came into the race with reason to believe my training was there for a sub-2:50. I wonder what I could have done differently in my training to have skewed the odds a little more in my favor: • I’m generally not
a very good taperer, though this time I did cut my mileage appropriately
while maintaining some “quality” in the final couple of weeks.
I thought I did this well, I don’t see myself changing this aspect
of training. I’m still confident
there is room for improvement. Even though I am now 31 and have
been running marathons for 12 years, the desire is still present
to find a few more minutes to lop off that 2:52. Those minutes
don’t get easier to lose the faster you get, but I’m willing to
find out if it’s possible.
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