We are not in town for a race, we are in town for THE RACE! Boston. Marathon. Enough said. This is what dreams are made of, right here, right now. Any and every runner dreams of running this race, it's the only race even non-runners know of. CT put so much hard work and dedication last year to qualify for this, there's no way we'd miss it and definitely were not going to let thoughts of terror deter us.
Boston left one lasting impression on me, that I never saw coming, the people LOVE their runners! It's probably odd to start with that that statement, but it is the story. I've never seen anything like it. Normally, I'd make you read the whole post, make you earn it, before I came out an say it, but this experience was so different, so unique, this theme is ingrained in almost every experience we had. Maybe it was different pre 4/15/2013, but if that's the case, then I'm here to say terror definitely lost and love won.
The story starts with my stomach. Since I'm not running, I get to eat whatever I want and my stomach aches for official Boston Clam Chowder. It was my guess that any place I picked would be good, but I thought I'd hedge my bet following the footsteps of one of the TV programs we like to watch, Man vs Food. Almost as if it were a sign, walking up to the place, it looked very shady (think back to the restaurant I picked in Traverse City). CT wanted to bolt. I started to second guess. Turns out we were only looking at the open deck area that they had covered in plastic and it wasn't the actual restaurant we were going to sit down at on this chilly day. What felt like thirty minutes in Boston, we are greeted to our waitress who is also running the marathon, her first. Two minutes later her and CT seem like old friends and are already talking about common runner fears, pooping. Yes, I said it. She gave us her cell number with specific instructions that if we got lost or needed anything to call her. Who hands complete strangers their number? Somebody who LOVES their runners.
Our second day was our first real experience of the city. The first stop was getting CT's bib number and heading down to the expo. Boston feels old. Most of the sidewalks we took were brick, all uneven with ankle biters everywhere. The skyline is modern, yet the ground is old. Fear of CT tweaking her knee walking around hours before her race were constantly on my mind as I found myself paying more attention to where she was stepping than my own steps.
The expo is where I got the feeling I didn't belong. It was hard seeing her excitement getting her bib, then rushing to look at the official Boston jackets. It felt like since I wasn't running and didn't qualify, maybe I shouldn't even be touching these sacred items. I'm sure silly, but a weird feeling none the less. While I would expect those feelings would give me this instant dedication to train super hard, qualify, to come back and experience these things for myself, they didn't. I found myself wondering how I would react, would I be teh same? The jackets seem like they are what legends are made of. People wearing them give off this aura of pride. I'm not even a fan of jackets, would this change me if I were to ever run Boston? Which brings up the point of superstitions. CT is of the mindset that she couldn't wear her jacket until she finished, otherwise it be bad luck. Trust me, there were plenty of runners who put theirs on the second they purchased them. In my mind a Google overhead view would have witnessed the city turn from blue and yellow (last years jackets) to a sea of bright orange from Saturday to Monday.
After the expo, we began wondering back towards our hotel and since it was roughly lunch time, figured take a peak where Cheers is located. Low and behold, right on the way. While they didn't know our name, maybe they did after because they seemed to like our order. A white russian at eleven in the morning tends to raise eyebrows, I guess. Even though it's a tourist trap, it turned out to be one of our favorite spots because we had to come back the following day.
Sunday, we debated if CT should get a little run in. Because we had been doing so much walking around the city, I did worry if we were putting too much work on her legs. Since we always side on the way of being cautious (did you believe me?), we went out for a run. Runners everywhere! Any thoughts that this wasn't the best idea, instantly gone. In the park, on the sidewalks, in the streets. I know I would have regretted it the rest of my life if I went to Boston and didn't get a run in, so glad we did it and it felt amazing. While I can't say that I ran the Boston Marathon, it did feel pretty special to run across the finish line. I can only imagine what it would feel like doing it for real, because even doing it like this felt incredible.
We took time to visit the library where they had an memorial exhibit. While I'm glad we did it, it really changed the mood from the runner's high I just experienced. Suddenly, the mood changed to one of deep sadness looking at the various items and messages left for the victims. Then mine changed to anger of what kind of losers do something like this? Up until this point, the thought if it happening again never once entered my mind, but seeing these items up close, made it that much more real to me. Doing this the day before the race, wasn't one of my better decisions.
That night, we phoned our Boston friend for her recommendation for a place to get our pasta dinner. Little Italy is what I'm calling that part of town. Hands down, the coolest part of Boston that we saw, it really had a unique feel to it. We weren't the only runners who figured out this part of town, plenty were lined up. It turned out to be a great meal. CT shoveled so much homemade tortellini in, I thought she'd burst. She wanted to take it back to the hotel, when I said no, she then wanted to at least bring it with her just in case we saw a homeless person on the way.
Race day. The runners are bused from essentially the finish line to the starting line, so we got down to the buses early. The plan was to meet up with the other Kzoo runners also running. There she goes, next time I see her, she'll be a Boston Marathoner. It's now 8:00 am, she doesn't start running until 11:00 am, and then she has to run it, I've got some time to kill. I wasn't comfortable enough trying to move around on the course trying to see her. Even though I had hours, I thought I'd go down to the finish line and see actually how close I could get. Though one security check point, as close as I could get was still a half block away from the actual finish line. To get closer, I needed a special badge. How do you rate to get one of those? It wasn't a bad spot, while it would be next to impossible to see her actually crossing the line, I'd be able to see her moments after, which I thought wouldn't be bad. I could camp here for hours. Or so I thought, as security came back through to sweep with dogs and later to find out this whole area that I had found was being closed off to only badge people. Next. At this point, I waved to the visible snipers on the rooftops. The next closest spot brought me about a block and a half away from the finish line. It was directly across from where they were handing out the warming blankets, which they had setup in the middle of the street and the runners were funneled on either side of this setup. I had a fifty fifty shot that CT would pick the side of the street I was on, but figured it was my best chance to see her after she crossed. Soon the elite women crossed the finish line and this is when I got my first taste of how impossible it would be to see anything. A speck is about all I saw of the crowd favorite as she immediately was escorted off the course before even getting to the point where I was when I first got kicked out. At about the time the elite men were getting close to finishing, I went for lunch because I knew I wouldn't see a damn thing.
At lunch is where I "watched" CT most, tracking her on my phone. While not as good as I wanted, it did give me insight on how she was doing. 5K, she could easily be caught up in the excitement. 10K she's stilling going strong. At the halfway point, she's almost running at her normal race pace! I have to be honest, with her injury and hardly any training miles, I thought she'd really struggle and have to fight through this thing. Yeah, I know she's tough as nails, but still running that kind of distance beats the body up when healthy. If she's doing that great at the halfway point, all I could think of was she was feeling good or somebody in front of her really pissed her off and she's trying to chase her down! Either way, I'd take it. At the 20 mile mark, she had slowed down some, but was still WAY better than I was even hoping for. Time to get my spot and hopefully see her.
Obviously, this is the largest race I've witnessed. The crazy thing to me is after the elites showed up and what I'd call the normal runners started coming in, it was nonstop. No breaks, no gaps, constant. Just a flood of runners and knowing the times, it's just incredible the number of fast runners. The longer I waited, the more I started second guessing my spot. The volume of runners, would make it impossible to see her if she picked the other side of the blanket line, so I decided to move further, so like a two and a half blocks away from the actual finish line where the blankets were done and they merged the runners back together to point them to the food line or point them to the family meeting area. My phone exploded with texts when she crossed the line. Of course she picked the side of the street furthest from me, I yelled as loud as I could for her, even the couple next to me used their cowbell to try to get her attention, nothing! I think I had to run about a 5K to run around all the closed streets to loop around where I could finally meet her at our planned meeting spot.
After our hug, kiss, and congratulations, what does she want, that damn jacket! Okay, she finally earned it. She looks pretty good for running 26.2 miles, injured, without much training, doesn't she?
Now, back to the story of how Boston loves their runners. Almost back to our hotel, a random police officer rolls his window down and congratulates her. Walking next to her, in her jacket, feels like I'm next to a celebrity. That night, leaving the hotel, the maintenance man proceeds to tell us where we have to get pizza from. Once at this said pizza place, it's full of orange jackets and it's like big family. Walking home, a random stranger in a cab proceeds to roll her window down at a stop light and congratulates her. This is crazy. I had no idea a city would react like this. I half expect that if we were to get robbed, the robber would get an absolute beat down by the other citizens. Yet, at the same time, it almost feels like the worst criminal in the city, would leave runners alone. I can't get over this feeling. In a few weeks when I do Kzoo, I know I could walk downtown with my medal showing and 90% of the people would have no clue and certainly wouldn't say anything.
Boston my not know my name, but they have an unbelievable respect and love in their heart for their Marathoners. That's what I walk away with from this experience.
Coming home, people did know her name...just couldn't pronounce it. Her News Story
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