Boston 2016

For most of last year, I suffered through a pretty bad case of plantar fasciitis. While I was able to run a decent time at Javelina, I also had to skip two races I’d already signed up for, and my training runs became just that – training to get me to the start and finish line, and not the mind-clearing, joyful hours in the woods and mountains that I generally rely on for a sense of mental clarity and emotional stability.

While my Physical Therapists (Scott and Michael) had done a great job of keeping me (and the foot) in one piece to get through the 100, I knew I needed something different if I was going to actually fix what was wrong. Scott recommended I see another PT in town who was more of a foot specialist –so in November, I found myself in the office of Sandy Bertrand.Sandy was more thorough measuring and examining my foot specifically and lower body in general than any of the podiatrists I’d ever seen. Her main conclusions were that an inherent inflexibility in my left first metatarsal (i.e. big toe) was causing my foot to not pronate properly. She thought this was something that would be easy to fix by modifying over-the-counter orthotics. She also suggested I would benefit from a small (few millimeter) lift in my left shoe. I’ve known for awhile that I had a greater-than-average leg length discrepancy, but Scott thought it was best to adjust the pelvis, etc. to fix the issues. Sandy thought that given my normal training volume, a lift would be better.

I really appreciate Sandy’s approach to orthotics. First, by modifying (grinding down the bottom, hard surfaces) over-the-counter orthotics, the cost was a lot lower than custom orthotics. Second, she doesn’t make overly stiff orthotics, so there is still a lot of natural foot motion. I first started running in my new orthotics and lift in December. It took a few runs to adjust to them, but things began to feel better pretty quickly. No miraculous, 100% improvement, but better.

My next step was to see if there was anything else I could do to speed up the healing. Massage, AStym, and dry-needling helped to loosen the tight connecting muscles, but I knew I had some deep damage that needed fixing. I emailed Scott and he recommended I try class IV laser therapy with Sandy. I did some Google searches, and while it was hard to find peer-reviewed research that wasn’t sponsored by the manufacturers, I at least didn’t find anything suggesting it was a hoax.

In the mean-time, Coach Meghan worked with me to try to start building my training back up while not aggravating my foot. I started off with running just 3 days a week (including a long run), swimming or biking 3 days a week, and 1 rest day. As the treatments continued (and started to taper off) as my foot started to improve, I was able to increase the number of days that I ran and the length and intensity of my runs.

That said, it was still a hard winter and early spring of training. The foothill and mountain trails had snow and ice on them for much of the winter, and since my foot was really sensitive to twists and uneven surfaces, and I didn’t want to stress it too much running with spikes, I stuck to the paved and gravel trails near Louisville. While I acknowledge that I am super lucky to have the extent of paved and gravel trails around me that I do, I don’t find them quite as inspiring and got pretty bored of my regular routes. On top of that, work has been extraordinarily stressful the last several months. Most work days, I felt like my energy was just generally zapped, and by Friday, it was extremely difficult to get out of bed early for one of my longer weekday runs. While I was able to get in my speedwork, my pace was generally 10 seconds per mile slower than it was last year. And the two “fast finish” long runs that Meghan scheduled? I ended up wanting to rip my Garmin off my wrist and stomp it to pieces when it wouldn’t stop notifying me that I needed to speed up despite the fact that I was running as hard as I could.

All of that is a long-winded explanation for why I had no goal for Boston this year, which I didn’t really think about until I sat down at my computer the afternoon before the race to send an email to my parents to let them know when they could expect the automatic updates from when I crossed different check points during the race. Last year, I set a marathon PR – 3:27. So, I told them that if I was having a really good day, I hoped to finish in 3 hours and 30 minutes. I then told myself that my more realistic, average-day goal would be 3:40; still a Boston qualifier, and so far, I’ve only had 2 other marathons under that time. My final goal would simply be to finish and have fun.

But I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. Because the real drama of the weekend was just getting to Boston. A big spring snowstorm was forecast to roll into the Denver/Boulder area Friday night. The models varied widely, but coalesced near the middle of the week on a forecast for rain Friday turning to snow early Saturday morning, then snowing through the weekend. My flight was on United at 8:30am Saturday, so I thought I’d be fine. It seemed like the ‘meat’ of the storm would be coming later Saturday and the roads and runways would still be warm from the previous days, so I figured snow wouldn’t start sticking until closer to noon on Saturday. I had some moments of doubt Friday morning, but Ross and a few of my coworkers reassured me that I should be fine. Then, just like that, just as soon as I decided I’d be fine, I got a notification from United that they cancelled my 8:30 flight and rescheduled me for a 12:30 flight. That didn’t fit my logic model at all. After spending 10 minutes on hold, I found myself talking to a United rep who was trying very hard to help me find an alternate flight – after going through a few options, he mumbled to himself that they were all cancelled. I asked him to clarify – by ‘all’ did he also mean the 12:30 flight that I had not yet received notification of being cancelled? He checked – and yes, that flight was also cancelled. I somewhat desperately exclaimed that I had to get to Boston. He rescheduled me for an American Airlines flight that was schedule to leave at 5:30am Saturday, then would connect in Chicago. …and no, there were no more flights available Friday night.

Hangin' with Abby - Abigail Adams, that is - at the Boston Women's Memorial. This was 2 days before the 50th annivesary of women running Boston ('illegally') - it would be another 6 years before women would officially be allowed in the race.

Saturday morning, I got up at 2am, then drove to the airport in a mix of heavy, wet snow, rain, and sleet. I later found out that the ticket counters were already busy with people trying to find any flight out of Denver, that they would figure out the connections later, but I cruised through an empty security line and found myself waiting with the other passengers of the AA flight bound for Chicago – many of whom were also rerouted Boston runners. As our boarding time approached, they announced that they were waiting for paperwork so they could board the plane. Our boarding time came and went – and we were still waiting. We finally boarded about 15 minutes after we’d been scheduled to leave. We then had to sit on the tarmac for 30-45 minutes while they deiced the plane. The hour long buffer we had between flights evaporated. On the flight, I tracked our progress vs. the departure time of our connecting flight – we were scheduled to land at 10:08a; our connecting flight was scheduled to leave at 10:05a. The flight crew said it was unlikely they would hold the flight for us, but that “we would be rebooked”. The few seats on the next few flights disappeared, and the only other options would be to rebook myself on flights leaving 9pm or later. I decided to take my chances that they would hold the flight. About 15 minutes before we landed, my app refreshed and showed that our connecting flight was delayed 15 minutes. Woohoo! We landed and after what seemed like the longest taxi that could be allowed while still calling the terminals part of the same airport (seriously – the plane drove on a bridge that went over a several-lane road/highway), I found myself guiding a blind runner from Colorado Springs through the terminal to our connecting gate (luckily only a few gates away). The other 20-30 Boston runners, friends, and family soon joined us and we were on our way. I usually don’t fly American Airlines, but I became a bit of a fan on Saturday.

With Martha and Ranae.

My pre-race time in Boston was pretty mellow. I managed to not only get out for a 4 mile run along the St. Charles, but also pick up my race stuff and some food on Saturday before happily passing out in the comfy Back Bay apartment I reserved through AirBnB. Sunday was mellow – a short run and lunch Martha, another Meghan coachee, and her friend, Ranae. Unfortunately, I didn’t pass out so peacefully Sunday night – instead laid awake for a few hours until I took ½ a dose of a Z-quil. I figured I had several hours in the morning before my race for any lingering grogginess to wear off.

One of the benefits of experience is that it can help calm the nerves. The buses, drive to Hopkinton, and wait in the athletes’ village were familiar. The morning was warm, and I enjoyed sitting against the schoolyard fence, watching the crowds and randomly chatting with those around me. Soon enough, it was time for my wave to line up. Last year, I was almost overwhelmed by my emotions; this year, I was just happy and grateful to be able to participate in this event again this year.

The start at Hopkinton.

Unlike last year, when I felt like I was held back by the pack for the first few miles, this year, I felt like the pack’s pace was actually about the pace I should be running. For the most part, I was able to position myself in the middle third of the road and not have to dodge and run around others very much – except for at the aid stations, that is. Last year, I barely used the aid stations, relying on a handheld water bottle. I had a handheld again this year, but it was hot this year; at least it was hotter than I’ve run for several months. At each aid station for the first 10 or 13 miles, I’d first have a few gulps of aid station Gatorade, then grab a cup of water, take a gulp then dump the rest over my head. I was grateful for the slight breeze that helped with the cooling. I drank a bit from my hand-held between aid stations and at the few aid stations that I skipped – either because I didn’t want to fight to get to the tables (it was almost a full-contact sport at times), or I just didn’t feel like taking the time. Luckily it got cooler as we got closer to Boston.

Pushing hard at the last mile.

Although it wasn’t quite as emotional of a run for me as last year, it was still an amazing, inspirational experience. The crowds were even thicker this year. The parking lot of the biker bar at mile 2 was packed – with bikers (the Harley kind) blasting hard 80s rock. It was actually the first of 4 times that I heard Poison being blasted along the course. The Wesley girls did not disappoint; I considered pausing to kiss the girl holding the “kiss me I’m from Oregon sign”, but to be honest, I was already struggling a bit to stay on pace and didn’t want to lose focus. I generally stayed on 3:30 pace for the first 17 miles (with the exception of the mile where I stopped for a brief Porta-Potty break), but started to slow down from there. Last year, the Newton hills felt refreshing – a nice break for my over-taxed quads. This year, I just felt the effort. I picked up the pace on the downhills, but didn’t have the leg turnover to really take advantage of them. On the positive side, I never felt like I was bonking; I just didn’t have the stamina to keep up the pace for that long. It was even a struggle to pick up the pace for the last 3 miles that were met by increasingly thick – and loud – crowds. But I did try … and I still loved it. Every minute of it.  …and I still feel so privileged to have been a part of the race – and the facts that it is so old (120 years), and so hard to get in are only a part of that. I once again was inspired by all of the alter-abled runners that I passed – 4 blade runners, a little person, a blind runner, and team Hoyt – and those were just the ones that I saw; I know there were many others out there facing challenges much greater than me. So my foot hurt and my life has been a bit stressful? I am still lucky enough to be out there running and having 26.2 miles of strangers – as well as my coworkers, friends, and family – cheering me on.

3:39:12 – I’m sure I looked like a hot mess those last few blocks, elbows flying high as I struggled to get in under 3:40, but I did it. 3^rd fastest marathon time for me and not only is it another Boston Qualifying time, it’s qualifies me by over 5 minutes (and thus a higher chance of getting in) since I’m entering a new age bracket this year.

 

At Fenway Park for the Boston post-race party.