At 1000, with thousands of other runners, I started running the Boston Marathon. I had taken my fluids, had my pre-race meal, and was ready to go. The temperature was about 45°F and the sky was bright blue – a beautiful day to start the race and it was only going to stay beautiful and get warmer. There was even a tailwind. The fans were ecstatic and it was like a small town festival. I gave a long prayer into my running hat for safety, endurance, and most of all, the ability to fulfill the promise I made to everyone of you who sponsored me on behalf of the Kenyan orphans – to finish the race. As we crossed the starting line, cheers from runners and spectators alike filled the air. Kids lined the street down from the starting line and I couldn’t help myself but start to give high-fives to every small person I could find.
As we left Hopkinton, we started down hill and then, before mile 1 was over, made our first significant climb. Knowing most of mile 1 and all of mile 2 were down hill, I wanted to go out easy and let gravity do the work; in essence, I wanted to shorten the race. Still, I ran 7:20 for the first mile and 6:55 for the second mile. During those opening miles, I was bothered by the urge to respond to nature’s call, so I jumped into the woods. It felt good, until I started running again and then I felt nature’s call to do something else. Unsuccessfully looking for a port-a-potty along the course, I spotted a small convenience store with the proprietor in the doorway. I yelled out if she had a bathroom and ran in. That was mile four, and it caused me to add ~two minutes to my time. I wasn’t too worried, though, because I knew there were still plenty of downhills and flat stretches to come. In fact, the next two miles were 6:52 and 6:51. But, certainly didn’t want to go that fast that early.
As I was running through the next miles, into Framingham, Natick and Wellesley, I started to cramp in my side. I knew that even though I was running well, the cramping would take its toll. Also, I did not want to run sub-7:00 miles, I wanted to settle in around 7:11 – 7:13, but I could not. From miles 5 – 14, I only had one mile that was not below 7:10. As this was happening, the sun became warmer and warmer and the cramping continued. I was not working hard – the tail wind was helping – but, 60°F is warm for a marathon. And I sweat a lot.
Ashland and Framingham are very historic to the race. A lot has happened over the last 115 Boston Marathons in these towns, and you can tell the residents are proud of it. They lined the streets the whole way cheering and calling out names of runners they knew. Kids were still looking for high-fives. And the course was flat. I was trying to enjoy it by breathing, drinking, stretching out my cramps and giving the high-fives to the children along the route.
Natick was jammed pack with people and in the town center, it seemed as if the crowds were 5-8 people deep. Needless to say, it was loud. As I went through the center intersection I raised my hands exhorting the crowds to get even louder. And louder they got! Natick takes a while to get through, but when the runners get into Wellesley, they have the University girls to look forward to. The Wellesley students are famous for asking for kisses from the runners. One older guy obliged. He obliged way too often. I was not interested in kisses, but I was interested in getting pumped and getting my mind off of my cramps. So, I made my way over to the side of the road, put my hand up and received hundreds of high-fives from adoring co-eds. That was all I needed. The kisses would be better at the end of the race from my fabulous four, anyway; so, those high-fives were perfect and perfectly timed. I started to feel better.
As I approached mile 15 – 16, I knew that there was a significant downhill, but that is the calm before the storm. I took it easy and then hit the first of the infamous Newton Hills. To me, the first is the most difficult. As I got to the top, I started looking for friends from church and friends from work. I didn’t see anyone until I turned at the Newton Fire Station, started to head up the second of the hills and my friend Jason came up behind me, patted me on the head and ran to the top of mile 18 with me. At that point, I was tired, but his encouragement was huge.
He asked me if I was getting enough fluids and nourishment. I responded “yes”, because I was following my hydration plan – three gulps of gatorade every two miles. It wasn’t until later that I found out he asked because he saw a lot of salts on my body. I passed Kenny (fellow Grace Race Board member) approaching mile 19 and headed up the third hill. It was at the top of this hill that I noticed salt lines on my shorts. And my shorts, normally soaking wet of sweat, were almost completely dry. That can only mean one thing – dehydration.
I was struggling up the final two hills, including Heartbreak Hill, but it was a great relief to get to the top and start heading downhill. All the same, every step I took was a little weaker. By the time, I got to mile 22, I was convinced that if I wasn’t smart, I might not be finishing the race. I knew that Cherish and the kids would be around mile 23, so I decided that I would go until I saw them and then I would stop to gather myself. My legs were so weak, the sun felt so intense and I had trouble focusing. If I didn’t stop for a moment, I thought I might fall down. 18 months earlier, I qualified for Boston with a 3:09 marathon. When I started this race, my goal was under 3:15. By the time I saw my family, my goal was simply to finish safely. What a relief it was to lean on my wife – literally. She encouraged me, loved me and off I went, in a very tempered walking pace.
Miles 24 and 25 were a mixed bag of walking and jogging. When I walked, the crowds were literally yelling at me telling me to get going. They were right. As I approached 1.5 miles remaining, I was determined not to walk into, through or out of Kenmore Square. My jog carried me over the last small hill, through the Square and past the thick, thick crowds and onto Hereford Street. This tunnel of buildings created a deafening roar which only intensified as I turned onto Boyleston Street, about 1/3 of a mile to the finish line. All along the course, there were soldiers marching and crowds chanting U-S-A, U-S-A. On Boyleston, all of the sudden, the chants came back on Boyleston Street, but this time with a greater gusto. As I looked to my right, there was a platoon with full packs on running to the finish line. If that did not give me artificial energy, then nothing would. My legs picked up, my chest filled out, and my head was high. I finally was running – not jogging, not walking – running. It felt good to get the legs moving again and I was going to be able to finish strong. With 100 yards left, however, my right quad muscle cramped and seized. I almost lost my balance and I was now in a full skip to try my best to keep weight off of my leg. I started hitting my right leg with my fist to loosen it up, which worked, and I was able to cross the finish line running. I went to the medical tent to get re-hydrated and get my muscles massaged. That felt good.
My whole run from start to finish had issues. I never felt free and loose. I had trouble finding my pace. I fought cramps in so many different places. I suffered from dehydration. Towards the end, when I was walking, I really did not want to run again. But, the whole race was filled with an earthly “cloud of witnesses”. I remembered what it meant to endure the race and I remembered why I was running this year. In the previous post, I talked about Hebrews 12:1. Well, that cloud of witnesses was all of you and I wanted to finish for you. There was also the cloud of witnesses on the course – my family, my friends, those in Naivasha, Kenya and those who were my fans (even if just for that one day).
Remembering that all of you were pulling for me, how could I not finish that race running. And boy, am I glad I did. When I got back to the house, I had received notice of many very, very generous donations. All of you are great and I thank you, very much. Truly we completed this marathon together. Your support was felt and realized; it inspired me and moved me further down the course. What a team we make! And the best part, is that this “team” impacted the orphans in Naivasha, Kenya as we entered into Boston.