The 2014 Boston Marathon
I have been hesitant
to write about my experiences at the 2014 Boston Marathon. It’s one to which I have been a dozen times
before. So I am not giving a review of a
new road course, which is legendary for its early downhills and later series of
hills in Newton. I am also hesitant
because of my views of the events of 2013 at the Boston Marathon. I won’t go into them here because they do not
befit an article about running. But I
will say that when I discovered the lengths that things were being taken in the
name of “security”, I regretted that I had signed up and won’t do it again.
For a couple years I had slowed to the point that I could
not qualify for Boston. As I have
previously written, I resolved to do something about it and began a walking
program, in addition to my normal amount of running, at the beginning of 2013. By the time of last year’s Boston Marathon, I
had already lost most of the weight. The
next month I qualified for Boston at the Delaware Marathon by two minutes and
one second. I did not think that would
be enough to get in with so many people wanting to run in 2014. So I went to the Erie Marathon in early
September as the registration for Boston was already starting. There I ran five minutes and 46 seconds under
the maximum of 4:10. So I was assured of
getting in and applied the next day.
It was not clear if there would be a Delaware Sports Club
bus trip to Boston this year because Doug White had retired from doing it. Fortunately Lee Kauffman, who would be
running his 28th straight Boston, decided to take over the duties
with Pat Patnaude helping. On early
Saturday morning the runners met at ATI Physical Therapy on
Limestone Road to catch the bus. Paul Schweizer graciously offered us parking
and bought coffee for the gang. He was
not qualified and could not go this year because of the stricter (and, in my
view, unnecessary) policy on bandit runners.
After posing for a group shot, we were off. About quarter to three we pulled up to the
Hancock Center on Boyleston Street in Boston to get our numbers and bags. It was a mob scene because of the extra
runners this year (about 35% larger field).
We had to go through security just to be able to get our numbers. Then we went into the expo, but it was
mobbed. I stayed just to buy a 2014
Boston Marathon cap. Then we left, went
across the street and had a beer while waiting for the bus to come back to pick
us up.
Out we went to Natick, which is only eight or nine miles
from the start of the marathon, to check into the Crowne Plaza hotel. After settling a bit, we hoofed it out to a
restaurant, an English Brewpub I had found, for dinner.
With the marathon being on Monday, Patriot’s Day, which is a
state holiday, we had Sunday to do as we please. In the past we have taken the bus back into
Boston and made our way around the city.
But this year the bus was only going into Boston once and returning to
pick people up at three, which we felt would not give us much time. So, instead, I persuaded Carolyn to walk with
me over to the course in Natick. It took
about 35 minutes each way. I showed her
the little cobbler’s shop, which belonged to Henry Wilson, who was the 18th
Vice President of the United States.
Then we searched for a place, which served Sunday brunch that I had
found online, but it was closed for Easter.
We walked back and while going through the shopping center that is next
to the hotel, we found a Jewish place, Zaftig’s, which was open. The food was great!
Back at the hotel, we read for a while and I checked email
and Facebook. There I saw Lori Culnane
post that she was at a steakhouse, watching the Flyers’ matinee game. Carolyn and I hiked over to John Harvard’s
brewpub and watched the second and third periods over a pitcher of suds.
After dinner (if this sounds like a continuous round of
eating – it was!), I made my final preparations. I got up a bit past four, dressed and headed
out to the Dunkin’ Donuts next door for coffee and a bit to eat. By 5:30 all the runners were on the bus for
we had to get into Hopkinton before they closed the roads. That was done and we parked at our usual spot
at a gas station. We had had to make
preparations to bring extra throwaway clothes in case we were told to leave the
bus and go to the athletes’ village, but it wasn’t necessary. Then began the long wait for the actual race
to start with the first wave not going off until 10:00 A.M.
By 7:00 A.M. I had made my first call to Carolyn. Non-runners were not allowed to come to
Hopkinton – another unnecessary restriction in my view. So I carried my phone to give her
updates. I mentioned the barriers being
erected and the four busloads of soldiers to help maintain the barriers. The time was spent eating bananas and granola
bard, doing crossword puzzles and occasionally getting off the bus to use the
station’s rest room, which was much better than having to use a portajohn.
Slowly the bus emptied as the first wave left and then the
second. With a half hour to go, I got my
race shoes on. It was warm enough that I
had already decided against my gloves.
I had to walk a block back from the bus in order to go
around a barrier to get toward the corrals.
After a several minute walk, I was ten feet from where I started, but on
the other side of the barrier. Then I
had to submit to having a wand passed over my body. I guess the authorities had decided that any
runner could be a potential terrorist, willing to carry a bomb. Like I said, I have my doubts about
returning. In fact I wore a sign on my
back, a quote from George Carlin talking about security and how it is used to
f**k with you. I got a few laughs with
people agreeing and no negative feedback.
Once in my corral, standing among others with similar
numbers, who should have qualified in the low four hour range, I saw four guys
who appeared to be in their early thirties and burlier than the other
runner. I know there are an organization
through which police can get into the
race, so I figured they must have seeded them throughout the corrals, according
to their actual speed, not a required qualifying time.
Once our wave started, it was a fairly quick walk to the
starting line and the running got to about the right pace very early. I was conservative in those first miles,
essentially race-walking down the hills, in order to spare my quads. Before I even got to the first water station
at two miles, I had already rolled up my long sleeve tech shirt as close to my
shoulder as I could in order to have as much skin exposed as possible. I resolved to take fluids every miles, each
time a slug of Gatorade and a bit more of water as a chaser.
Bud Bettler, a former resident of Delaware, who retired to
Florida, started near me. But even though he said he intended to take close to
five hours, he was off down the hill and I lost sight of him. By mile one, I
saw him running with a woman, who was also on our bus. But it took me four miles to catch up. I was
not about to inflict any damage to my quads.
The miles clicked off.
The crowds seemed to be bigger than ever. In certain wide-open areas and in passing
through municipalities, the sun’s rays were warming me. I continued to hydrate. As is the usual case, the young women at
Wellesley were as loud as ever and it seemed that every fourth or fifth one had
a sign, which said she would kiss a runner – something I was never tempted to do. But among them I saw another person - a first
for this crowd. It was a guy with a
sign, which said, “I’m queer! I’ll give
you a kiss!” I do not know who took him
up on the offer.
I passed the half-marathon point in 2:07:26. I thought running under 4:25 was
possible. I called Carolyn, which I had
also done at 10K. She had told me that
Meb had won the race, an American for the first time since 1985 won. He is 38, which is usually considered beyond
the peak marathoning years. Great for
him!
Then the Newton Hills started, actually with a pass over
I-95 after crossing the low point at Newton Falls. Each hill takes a little more resolve out of
the body. At one point a woman near me
heard my heavier breathing going up the hill and wondered if I was all
right. I went on by her, not having breath
to form words at that point. Cresting
the next hill at mile 18, I was again breathing hard when I hit the water
stop. I grabbed the Gatorade and threw
it down my throat, but forgot to stop breathing. It went down my windpipe. I spit it out as best I could, but spent the
next mile coughing, trying to clear the stuff out.
At the base of Heartbreak Hill, I found the Hashers. I took a slug of warm beer and yelled “On,
On!”, before starting my jogging trudge up the hill. Just like all the other times I’ve run Boston,
once cresting Heartbreak, it doesn’t get easier going downhill. Despite my
caution, I still had quad pain. But I
took it the best I could.
Near Cleveland Circle, about mile 22 or 23, I passed Anne
Hessel, another runner from the bus, who had started in the same corral that I
was in. She seemed pretty flushed and in
pain. I asked her if she was all right
and she replied that she would get there somehow. It turns out she was running with a bloodied
toenail.
More misery watching the Citgo sign come into view, which
would signify one mile to go when I got there.
Then down through an underpass and back up. Then turning on to Hereford. Why were four people walking abreast on the
left side of the road where we all wanted to run? On to Boyleston, with the slight downhill
allowing me just a tad more speed. At
mile 26, I had 4:27:42 on my watch. It
was all I could do to do that last two tenths of a mile in 2:17 to finish in
4:29:59.
After finishing I pulled out my phone and called Carolyn,
who was helping to direct runners from our bus to get to the bus from the
family greeting area. I told her I’d be there in several minutes. As I closed my phone, an official up on a
lifeguard stand, who was looking at me, got on a bullhorn and said “No using
cellphones in the finishing area!” After
he paused, he then said he was just kidding.
I was not amused and was reminded of what George Carlin said that I had
on the back of my shirt.
As I started make to my way down the street, I saw Bob
Hempton, another runner from the bus, who is in my age group, walking toward me. I got his attention. He was a bit disoriented and wondered where
was the bus. I told him to stick with
me. Despite being a better runner than
me, he only finished a minute and a half in front of me. It turns out he had developed a blister and
had to keep retying his shoe. He also
stopped to say a prayer near the site of the bombing last year. He told me that when he passed me after one
of his stops he did not want to let me know he was there lest I pick up the
pace (fat chance of that happening!).
Later I told him he should have said a longer prayer to give me a better
chance to beat him!
I got to the bus, changed out of my wet shirt and proceeded
to down a few beers and eat some chips.
The bus was three blocks from the family greeting area. When I needed to relieve myself, I realized
that no portajohns had been placed outside of the official marathon areas and I
had to walk back to the greeting area to use one. Eventually, Doug White and Bill Funk finished.
Once they got to the bus, we took off for the hotel. A shower felt great. I was too tired to go out, so we ate at the
restaurant in the hotel.
The next morning the group gathered in front of the bus for
another photo op and it was off to Delaware.
Everyone seemed pretty satisfied, despite the times, which disappointed
most people. The sun just got to
everyone, more so for the older, slower people who started later and dealt with
more warmth.
Once home, I checked the race results and did some
comparisons of my performance to others in my 65-68 year age group. Of the 537 men in the group who finished, I
was number 269, placing me exactly mid-pack.
I went through the results and checked to see all who were behind me at
the half-marathon point, who finished ahead of me and all who were ahead, who
finished behind me. There were six
behind who finished ahead, but there were 113 who were ahead who finished behind. Another way of looking at this group was to find
all who had higher numbers, meaning they qualified with a slower time than I achieved,
who finished ahead of me and all who had a lower number, meaning they had
faster qualifying times, who finished behind me. This was slightly more balanced as 33 slower
qualifiers (plus five charity runners, who did not qualify) finished ahead of
me. I finished ahead of 143 faster
qualifiers.
