lean mean seventeen

It seems I have managed to take another hiatus from blogging... Time, where dost thou go?

Each of the long runs that have transpired since my last post is worth mentioning, but in order to refrain from trying your patience (and my from straining my typing fingers), I'll reflect on them one post at a time. Chronologically, first up is the long run on Saturday, February 13--the first time I've ever run on the Boston Marathon course! Strap in.

February 13, 2010: 17 Epic Miles on the Boston Marathon Course

According to our schedule, February13's run was supposed to be 16 miles. The previous run had been 15 miles, and up until now, you've probably noticed that we increase a mile at a time. This run, however, was special.

As I understand it, The Children's Hospital here puts on two training runs on the actual Boston Marathon course open to all Charity Runners every year. There's a fee associated with participating ($20 per runner), but it's great practice, and Boston Partners was kind enough to pick up the bill for runners on our team.

With the exception of our first ever long runs in November, I'm not usually nervous about training runs. This is NOT due to courage on my part--just time restraints. The great thing about marathon training taking up so much of your daily life is that you have little time left to stress out about marathon training. But as I said... this run was special.

This was jumping from 15 to 17 miles! This was facing Heartbreak Hill for the first time! And most importantly--this was The Course!

I arrived at the Riverside T-stop with teammates Erin and Laura, both of whom seemed much calmer than I could understand. The folks of The Children's Hospital bussed us to Mile #9 of The Course so that we could run 17-miles instead of 26 and still have the satisfaction of crossing the finish line at Copley Square.

The bus ride generated yet more nerves. Erin and Laura chatted casually in the seats behind them, while I silently stared out the window--watching tired-looking runner after even-more-tired-looking runner ascend the sidewalks by the bus's path. A few of them looked like they were weathering the miles quite nicely, but it was difficult to identify with them in my state of trepidation. I imagined that soon, busses would pass by me and their inhabitants would pick me out as the most haggard and worn of them all--assuming I made it that far, that is.

It didn't help that the trip to Mile 9 seemed to be taking forever.

Nicole, a qualified runner on our team with several Bostons under her belt, once gave the advice never to drive the course of the Boston Marathon--and I like to think I now fully understand why. It. Takes. So. Long. Every minute that passes, you're thinking to yourself, "If it takes this long to drive along this route, how am I ever going to run the thing?!" A teleporter would have been much kinder to my nerves.

We finally arrived to our dropping point, and there was no turning back. Luckily for me at that point, a great cure for nervousness is... well, running. We began.

This is the moment I give mad props (Can I pull off that phrase? I don't think so.) to my mad-prop-worthy running partner, Laura. You may have noticed earlier in this blog that Laura and I both grew up participating in competitive Dr. Mario tournaments with our fathers. This probably explains our similar running styles: try to keep up with the other person, and say nothing when the pace is slightly quicker than you might otherwise run by yourself. Oh yeah--and if there is even an ounce of energy left in a single muscle of your body, sprint the last few yards to the finish line in a not-so-subtle attempt to cross before the other person. Laura always wins. I keep trying. =)

Skipping this part would just be a sin: We conquered Heartbreak Hill. And I am happy to announce that while it was no breeze, Heartbreak was not quite as bad as I envisioned it. (Quick Montana reference here: that could be because I was envisioning something like the Goat Trail at Mystic Lake.) Still, here's the analogy I've come up with for the section of the course almost universally referred to as its most difficult part:

Heartbreak Hill is not the meanest guy you ever dated. Heartbreak Hill is the guy you dated who dumped you at the absolute worst possible moment in your life, when you are--and this was Laura's addition to the analogy--already bruised and battered. That's your beef with Heartbreak Hill.

If Heartbreak reared its head at Mile 2 in the course, I'm convinced that few people would know its name. But since it appears near the end of the run--although it really is not that steep--it really is worthy of its legend. Starting at Mile 9 surely helped us conquer its summit on this particular training run. The day of the Marathon, when are legs are less fresh when we begin our ascension, I have a feeling it will be that much more difficult.

The final big challenge awaiting us after Heartbreak was the last couple of miles through Boston itself. Though this run was an Anxiety-Worthy Epic Event for me, it was just another Saturday for the rest of Boston. It was also a nice day. Saturday + Sunshine = Sidewalk Traffic

Laura and I were both spent by the time we reached the sidewalks of Boston, so fighting through crowds of pedestrians in our mental state at that time was not ideal. At least that's one challenge we won't have to face on Marathon Monday!

Finally, after what seemed like the longest final two miles I have EVER run, we finished. Gasping, we walked ever-so-stiffly to the nearest 7-11 for water and (!!) Coke Zero. I admitted that the only reason I kept the pace that I did was to keep up with Laura--and Laura made the same admission thinking she needed to keep up with me! (See above: Dr. Mario.)

Laura informed me of our completion time, according to her very cool GPS watch: 2 hours, 39 minutes.

Given A) my depleted brain power at that time, and B) the fact that I had never run 17 miles previous to this, that number meant nothing to me. I did some quick mental math and consulted my cell phone calculator to make sense of the number.

2 x 60 = 120
120 + 39 = 159
159 / 17 = 9.35
.35 is roughly equivalent to 1/3
1/3 of 60 seconds is 20 seconds
Holy crap.

Previous to this run, we were both fairly convinced that our pace was very close to 10 minutes per mile. If the cell phone math held up, we just averaged a nine minute, twenty second mile.

Holy crap.

Laura quickly checked our egos by reminding me that her watch stops counting time whenever we stop running--so any time spent at water stops or waiting for a light to turn green was not included in the 2 hr, 39 min total. Nonetheless, at that moment we were two very sore, very tired, but very happy runners.