Race Report by: Crystal Drummond

It’s never a good sign when a piece of roofing material 6 ft long is flying down the street the morning that you are going for a run. It’s a really bad sign when that run is a point to point marathon in the direction opposite from that huge flying object!

That is what I saw as I lined up with 20,000 other slightly incredulous athletes as we waited for the shuttle buses that would take us even further from our nearby cosy hotel rooms to the point of only one return – the start line of The Boston Marathon. On the bus ride, I chatted with another Canadian female, Catherine, mother of 2, who was a Boston “rookie” like myself. We were full of good spirit: it was to be, after all, time without kids, the quality “me” time that we had come to enjoy during the last few months. And, after all, we were “Canadians”, we were used to running in terrible weather. I had done long runs this past winter in the most awful weather that I had ever run in. We had low expectations, given the weather, that we would even reach the finish line upright at this point (news reports during the bus ride were classifying the weather as a “class 2 hurricane”). Catherine was a great bus ride companion: not a negative thing to say, and she even got up to ask the bus driver to please turn down the heat so that her seat companion didn’t throw up. Unfortunately, we parted ways at the porta potty line as soon as we arrived. You had to cross a grassy moat to get to the porta potties and I quickly noticed that some of the “non-rookies” had grocery bagged their feet to keep dry. Ooops. On the plus side, I had thought of bringing along an old winter coat of my husband’s so that I could keep warm in, change under and ditch at the start line (I was, I did, and I did).

I found a great piece of “real estate” to spend the next 90 min. waiting, underneath the school overhang, behind a break in the wall that blocked the wind. It even came with a wooden crate to sit on! Score! I had brought a book to read, but ended up waking up my “crate mate” and chatted with a young lawyer who was leaving from the first corral. He had run Boston before, and had done a decent time. (Hence, I was sucking his brain). He wasn’t worried about the weather….. another positive thinker. The rain was off and on, and the wind was crazy at times, but not as bad as in the city. The temperature was a pleasant surprise compared to the day before; and all around the talk was about “what to wear?” My first wave lawyer buddy was going to wear tights, but at the last minute I decided to wear shorts. Phew! Was I ever glad that I did!

I headed over to dump my bag on the 6500 bus and wait one last time for a porta-potty (after having found some grocery bags for my feet!). I realized after about 5 min. that this huge line wasn’t going to move fast enough (damn! I wanted to try out the grocery bag thing!), and I had to start heading for the start line (20 min. ‘till the start). Luckily, I found a secret pee stop spot : ), and made it to my corral just as they were playing the national anthem. I thought that I still had all kinds of time, but just 3 minutes after the start time, I crossed the start line. Yay! I was running the Boston Marathon!

I started off running pretty comfortably, and ran the first mile bang on the pace that I thought I was going to run the whole race at (3:20 pace). I looked at my watch and thought, no, I can go faster than that, so off I went. The roads were packed, there was no wind to feel here at all! The rain had let up, and there was clothes all over the course --- it was much warmer than everyone had thought! I took off my gloves (put them in my waist band, just in case!) after 5km. I threw away my toque at 8 miles. I probably would have taken off my windbreaker too, but I had my number pinned across the zipper. Doh!

The first section was very hilly; I had been told it was “all downhill”, so any uphill was met with resentment. That was, until I met the “flat part of the course”. I have never met a flat I didn’t get along with. I have now. That was the toughest part of the race. My left hip flexor was killing me at about 11 miles, and I wondered how I was going to be able to finish. I guess the crowds kind of distracted me, because next thing I know, I was past half way with a split that was still good. The crowds were unbelievable! I don’t know what else they have going on in the outskirts of Boston, but there were thousands of people standing there in the wind and rain and the cold to see us shuffle by. I laughed at the signs (“check out your form in our store front window”; “short cut this way”, and later on “ a marathon is not a sprint. This was funnier 20 miles ago.”), high fived some kids, and looked for my family at the pre- arranged spot. Only, my husband was going to wear an orange wind breaker…. Guess what colour the officials were wearing this year? I didn’t see my family. Ooops. No photo op there.

I noticed that not many runners were wearing their gel packs. Huh??? I lived on gel that day! I had been sick with the stomach flu up until 4 days prior to the race, and was seeing spots, and had visual tunneling most of the race. Wouldn’t you know it, around 30km I think those gels kicked in, and that was it! I felt great (from the neck up!) after that.

The Newton hills came along. I was very happy that I had read about the course the day prior: there are actually 4 hills. I would have hit that first hill, thought it was the Heartbreak Hill and then sat down and cried each time I hit another hill! Those 4 hills gave my mind something else to do (um, count) during the monotony of the miles. I must say tho, Heartbreak Hill really should have a sign or something. It really was not as sexy as they make it out to be.

It was pretty much a blur after that. I remember slowing down at 22 miles as I was cramping up in the quads (apparently the downhills do that to you). I took on some Gatorade, and eventually they let up. The finish was brutally windy. Yikes. Thank goodness it was only the last couple of miles like that. Then there it was…. A long way down the street, but you could at least see it. The finish. Yikes. Another look at my watch. Did I really slow down that much in the last 5km? I was going to have to hoof it in order to PB (after all, the whole family had come down to watch…. No pressure!)

My finish line photo shows me looking at my watch. Like all I cared about was my time. Well, rookie here, didn’t know I was supposed to look up and have my photo taken! (Some fellow Boston runners told me that later at the airport!) Next time. There will definitely be a next time, as that had to be one of the most amazing and inspirational experiences of my life. Next time tho, I will wear my name written on my shirt, or a crazy hat so that I can hear some cheering directed to me (instead of some “Mr. T” that apparently ran right behind me the whole way!) Next time, I will wear another old winter coat to the start line if I get a warning email from the Boston Athletic Association the week prior about hypothermia. Next time, I will go to the expo early and find a women’s small shirt. Next time, I will pay attention when my husband is telling me where my family will be standing to cheer. Next time, I will again pack lots of gel. Next time, I will know to wear garbage bags on my feet across the wet ground (the first time). Next time, I will use my secret last minute pee stop spot again : ).

And next time, I will look up when I cross the finish line, so that I will have a photo to show the look of utter and complete joy (and relief) at completing this incredible journey.