I “almost” did it

Like many runners, having trained and sacrificed so much I was looking forward to last Monday – to seeing my family at the finish after the culmination of 6 months of work. Here I find myself having “almost completed” the mileage, legs done but my mind still running - stuck on the course like a skipping record; the needle going back over it again and again.  In the last week we have all experienced every feeling imaginable; a whirlwind of physical and emotional turmoil. My friend and fellow runner Paul Joseph posted on Facebook the night of the Marathon, about how he spent the entire day being grateful; grateful for the health to run, for the love and support of family, the opportunity to support a great cause and grateful to have missed the explosions.   

This is how I WANT to feel – but I don’t. I'm PISSED. As a runner, as a person, as a parent – everything. Angry that I missed the best part, the last mile, the turn onto Hereford! Angry that my friends and family sacrificed to be there, angry that someone could do this in our city and hurt so many people. And I’m sad that I can't be more grateful than angry.  

In the end it seems that I will have to use the toughness I learned in training for this race to turn the corner, focusing on the good things; gratitude that my friends and family are safe and for the hundreds of texts, voicemail and emails later from so many friends and family, many of whom donated money and sacrificed to help me accomplish this goal.  Maybe turning anger into gratitude is “the last mile of the marathon” for me, what seems like a bigger challenge than completing the last mile of the race would have been.  

Last fall I decided to run the Boston Marathon with my friend Jacqui.  I thought I could lose some weight, support a friend and, let’s be honest, who doesn’t dream about running THE BOSTON MARATHON?  If you have been to the race just the thought of being on the other side as a runner will give you chills.  But you don’t just “DECIDE” to run the Boston Marathon - you have to qualify by running for a charity and raising at least $4,000 or running a less than 9 minute mile in another marathon and entering a lottery.  I chose raising money for the American Liver Foundation. Like many big goals you set for yourself; you know it’s going to be a lot of work.  And there are several large fees, the $300 Boston Athletic Organization fee being one of them.  There is a reason a marathon is a huge accomplishment; it’s the biggest physical and mental challenge I have ever been through.

I started training last Thanksgiving, running a mile more each week until by the end of the year I was up to 10 miles for my long run. This wasn’t that hard but at the start of the year the weather turned all, um “NEW ENGLANDY” and running was taking more and more time. Every week I mapped out a plan to run my long run on a certain day and every week there was a snow storm. I tried to run on the treadmill. Have you ever run 13 miles on a treadmill? DON’T.  I ran most of my runs in the middle of the street, carefully watching the eyeballs of oncoming traffic one car at a time to make sure I wasn’t going to get run over (if you want to have 18 miles go by faster;  try this; keeping yourself alive is very distracting). I ran in wind so bad I had to run in circles back and forth to keep from getting knocked over.  Week by week, storm by storm, month by month I got the mileage in – and I tried NOT to think about the fact that I would have to do it again the next week only LONGER.  I spent the days after the long run hobbling around exhausted and the weeks leading up to the next long run scared shitless saying to myself how the hell can I run LONGER than that?   

Sometime in the winter my running pal Jacqui got injured. I obsessed: HOW would I do this alone? I don’t WANT TO DO THIS ALONE!  But I had committed and some generous people had already donated and I couldn’t let them down.  When the runs got longer I tortured my experienced friends with questions (is it ok that I skipped my long run because I had the stomach bug or should I have run through it? What kind of socks do you wear? How do I get to the race? What if I have to PEEEE?).  By the time I got up to the longest training run I was at 21 miles and my weekends were fully consumed.  People will say running this distance is a grueling physical challenge and it is.  But for me the challenge was mental; overcoming my mind willing me to procrastinate, take a short cut or give up. I can’t do this I’m too old, I can’t do this I’m too busy, etc.  The further you go the more confidence you build up and the lesson learned in the process is that you can do ANYTHING. What happened later at the race can never take that away from me.  

I went to my first American Liver Foundation practice run in March by myself. I am not a shy person so I don’t know why this was scary for me but it was. I instantly made friends with a fellow teammate Kim, who entertained me during my whole practice run and we fell into an easy friendship, sharing war stories and nervously preparing for the race by texting and obsessing over every detail; what shoes are you wearing, what are you eating the day before the race?? I met some patients and their families who had been helped by the Foundation and started to feel more personal about the cause.  

American Liver Foundation practice run in Hopkinton

Despite this I struggled with the fundraising; constantly posting and emailing. When people donated I was excited but nervous; could they afford it? Would I disappoint them by getting injured or not finishing? Did my friends hate me for harassing them? As you can see my VIRGO-NESS runs my life (this is but a small glimpse into how much I think; it’s fucking exhausting I tell you).    Thanks to the generosity of friends and family I hit the fundraising goal and my focus turned to full on obsession about anything and everything BUT the actual running; how would my family get there, what would I bring in my bag, what would the weather be, should I take the bus with my team or drive to Hopkinton, etc, etc..  When my runners passport came I knew it was real.

If you’ve ever lived in Boston or visited during the Marathon you know that the race is a weekend affair with people from all over the world descending on the city. There’s an electricity and energy I have seldom felt in life and as a runner it was even better.   The day before the race I went to the Liver Foundation brunch with my daughter and Jacqui where we heard amazing stories; one from a nurse who had contracted Hepatitis C from a medical incident and was alive due to the untimely death and generosity of an 18 year old boy from Turks and Caicos.  It was a great way for Megan to see why I sacrificed so many weekends and it made me very excited for her to see me at the finish line. I reasoned that this lesson was more important than all the time I had spent running; my husband taking the brunt of taking care of their needs.


Me, Julie, Jacqui and Megan 

Picking up my number for THE BOSTON MARATHON at the Hynes convention center was so exciting.  Finally - the part of the process I was waiting for!!  The night before the race I stayed overnight at the Westin with my teammates and in the morning we took the bus out to Hopkinton. We laughed because we thought the ride was long – laughing harder when we remembered we had to run the whole way back. 
Arriving at Athletes Village makes you feel like you are in the Olympics! For over 2 hours we anxiously awaited the start along with thousands of runners. The energy there is like nothing you will ever experience. 


Relaxing before our WAVE

 

Tia, Kim and me outside high school near the start

Me, Tia and Kim on the bus to Hopkinton

The thing they don’t tell you is that in order to start the Marathon you have to WALK to the start from the high school for OVER A MILE! My walk was made more exciting when I saw Tedy Bruschi, representing his team. I resisted the urge to get a picture with him (dammit).   As we started there were so many people you could barely see the sidelines. Nothing can capture the feeling of running with this many people cheering you on; my mind was on fire between my internal voices yelling:

• Please stop doing this it hurts, how many more miles? What’s 26.2 minus 3.7? I can’t run another step. Why the fuck am I doing this? Are there any Americans who go to BC?  When should I eat this disgusting GU crap? Do I have to pee? I wonder how many calories I’m burning. Did I leave the leash out for the dog walker?  

and what you are seeing

• How awesome are these volunteers? Everyone is so nice! Look at those old ladies on their lawn drinking Miller Lites at 11 am! Check out this 90 pound chick bouncing by me! Wow, there’s an 80 year old woman in front of me I feel like a FAT ASS LOSER! Good for her!  I hope I live as long as her to run this, no I don’t!   WOW there’s a lot of cops here. How cute are the little kids handing out oranges!  

I started out running with my friends but ended up running by myself, taking my time because I didn’t want to get injured or not finish. I stopped for water, clothing malfunctions and to chat/pose for a picture or two with family and friends who came to see me.  For the first 8 or so miles I knew I would see my crew at the end of that leg and I was excited. After that I fell into a slump knowing that I had at least another 8 miles to go until I saw them.  But knowing my friends and family they were tracking me on BAA and waiting for me propelled me forward.  It’s hard to imagine that you can have a good time while running but I did – one guy high fived me so hard I almost fell over.

Me in Natick

My first trouble was knee pain in Natick. I had never experienced this so I was very nervous I wouldn’t finish.  BUT, running has taught me a lot about toughness; there were many times training when I was sure I wouldn’t make it – pain, wardrobe malfunctions, inadequate preparation, laziness, minor injuries, work interferences, the list is endless. My mental training taught me to distract myself and just put one foot in front of the other no matter what.   I tried to focus on the posture techniques that I was learning. 

There are a lot of things that happen in the race that you can’t prepare for – one of mine was another runner who thought it would be fun to run while dribbling a basketball, THE ENTIRE WAY. She was a fan favorite but I cursed her. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to listen to a bouncing basketball for 5 hours? She stalked me, going slower when I slowed and speeding up when I kicked it into gear. She was like the paperboy in better off dead always there, always yelling: “2 dollars, 2 dollars!!”. 

I was really struggling but when I hit Wellesley College I got the lift I needed. It’s a well- known high point of the race and it didn’t disappoint – I had the best time high fiving people and reading the signs: “Kiss me I’m fun sized”, “Kiss my I’m graduating!”.  After that my iPod died I tried to focus on how many miles were under my belt rather than how many were left.  I was not running my best mental race but I tried to focus on how much fun it would be to see everyone at the end and have the hugest dinner possible. I distracted myself looking at all the people and signs (my worst pain at this point was my neck from rubber-necking and trying to watch everything while running). Tried to look at every sign: Hurry up my mascara runs faster than you!”, Run faster Channing Tatum is at the finish line waiting for you! I was so relaxed I even stopped to have my picture taken with one of them

 
I started to zone out and forget what mile I was on, just running and watching the sidelines. I got through Newton and heartbreak hill without a problem.  By the time I got to BC I was crawling at a snails’ pace. As a former Cleveland Circle drunken spectator I was looking forward to the crowds there but instead I was completely annoyed by the drunk girls who jumped into the race, running around like idiots wearing neon clothes and cowboy boots.  Once I got through Cleveland circle I was looking forward to the homestretch; the end was in striking distance. I had been running pretty slowly but I wanted to start speeding it up. 

Leaving Coolidge Corner approaching Kenmore Square I got my first clue something was awry; half the spectators were cheering and the other half were running from the finish.  I noticed runners talking on their phones and I thought WTF is wrong with people that they can’t run a marathon without yapping on the phone?  I complained to a man next to me and he told me there was a bomb at the finish and there were “major casualties”. I stopped to ask a few cops/bystanders/volunteers and they didn’t know any details.  I felt myself panicking as police cars started racing down the street on the same side as the runners.  I ran for 2 miles not knowing if my family and friends were safe; all I could think about was that if they were hurt the whole thing was my fault.  BUT I have always been calm in a crisis – I thought there’s nothing to be gained by freaking out – keep running.  My mind was preparing for the worst case scenario; what If the kids are ok and Dan isn’t, what if my sister and her family are not ok but my family is?

When we approached Kenmore Square the cops announced on the megaphone: GO HOME, WE URGE YOU TO GO HOME!!?”. Running 25 miles makes you confused – but no details were given and the race just sort of dissipated without water, food or blankets. Some people were still cheering; I saw one of the liver survivor/supporters and l will never forget the look on his face; he stood amongst the crowd, calling my name and cheering but he looked totally confused – torn between wanting to run and not wanting to desert his post.  I asked anyone I could find what was going on but there was no internet/cell service; the only updates coming from people who were texting from home as they watched the TV.  I had no way to get in touch with my family so I just sat down in the middle of Kenmore Square, cold and thirsty – no clue what to do.  I tried to ask a few cops what to do it but was chaos. Confused and panicked; I thought how the hell am I going to get home: I have no money, no phone – nothing!  

It’s funny how different people react to stress; a few people were so helpful and understanding; others going into meltdown mode yelling and repeating the same information. Some people were lying in the street crying, some laughing and everything in between.   Trash was flying around and cars were driving on the wrong side of the road because the barriers were half up. A BU security guard gave me water; another guy offered me a blanket. Afeter a while I finally had the mental wherewithal to stop a guy who had finished running and was walking to his hotel. I used his phone to text Dan and tell him I was safe. Dan texted back right away and said that they were safe at the Westin.  It was a huge relief and I resolved to walk to the Westin – only another mile away.

Every direction I went they closed the street. Every street that closed I walked to the right - casing the Westin until I could get to the front of the building.  I felt like a lost toddler wandering around by myself in a foreign land. When I got there they wouldn’t let me in – the building was being evacuated.  I had nowhere to go so I kept walking to the bus where my bag was. That street was closed too and I waited as volunteers carried bag after bag to the street.  The BAA is a class A organization and either they train their volunteers well or they are highly dedicated – maybe both. I was impressed that so many volunteers were manning their posts despite the complete chaos and extreme conditions.

I texted Dan to let him know where I was – knowing I wouldn’t get an answer. Once I got my bag I stopped to get warm and rest at a medical tent on St James.  The tent was empty except for a supply guy whose pants were covered with blood. He tended to my very minor injuries as I watched the news and charged my phone enough to post on Facebook that I was ok. Exchanging stories with other runners I told a guy that I was mad I didn’t finish and my kids were in danger because I was slow.  He told me that if I wasn’t slow my kids and/or I might be dead.  They wanted the runners to go to the Boston common but there was no way I could walk another mile.  When they turned the heat off in the tent I was on the move again; I asked a cop directing traffic if the Westin was open and if they would let me walk there.  He was nice enough to have someone drive me; by this time I could barely walk.  

When I met up with Dan I discovered that he immediately had the good sense to put the kids and family/friends on the commuter train out only minutes after the bomb.  They had checked my progress on line and saw that I was running slower than expected so they took their time at lunch and were walking back to Boylston St at the time of the bomb, only a block away.  Knowing that they were safely out of the city was a huge relief. Later, talking to my sister she described the panic she was in, thinking the train would be bombed on the way out and the kids witnessing all kinds of panic.  

Dan and I were stuck at the Westin for a couple hours where the giant meal I had been looking forward to was not to be had since they ran out of food.  My adrenalin was on overdrive but we weren’t allowed to leave. When the streets opened we finally got to leave - no post team celebration, no sense of closure. It was after 10, running home to see the kids who were waiting up to make sure we were safe.  Although they were stressed out, they seemed to calm down the minute they saw us.  

We were scheduled to leave for a family vacation the next morning and that’s what we did.  I expected to feel sore for the week but the added feelings of helplessness, shock and confusion took a while to dissipate. Watching the kids having fun and seeing them seemingly unaffected by what they saw has helped.  I tried to ignore my mind and body, ignoring the news, going horseback riding and climbing rocks.  Watching the hard work and bravery that we have seen helps cancel out the bad but it’s still so scary to think that two young people could hate so much, or that their close family members would be so oblivious to the hearts and minds of their own children/relatives.  

For now, it’s one day at a time - each day feeling more grateful, getting back to the business of life ad not taking anything for granted. People ask me if I will run another marathon – some saying “you don’t need to, you ran almost the whole thing”, or “don’t let them win by taking away your accomplishment”.  I am still deciding but I do know that I don’t need to do it to prove that I’m strong. I proved that – with or without the medal.