Every 3rd Monday in April, the grand city of Boston celebrates Patriot Day -- yes, it is an official holiday complete with NO school, NO work, and ALL play. The town supposedly "shuts down" with the exception of a little century-old event that attracts tens of thousands of participants and seemingly hundreds of thousands of spectators: the Boston Marathon. This past Monday, April 16th - which tragically became a day of historical notoriety in another of the original 13 colonies, Virginia - marked the 111th annual Boston Marathon. And unlike recent years, where the thermometer soared into the 80s by the noontime race start, this year's race had to be started early (at 10AM), due to a hammering NE storm that brought gusts up to 30-40mph and inches upon inches of rain. Yikes!!! To all my compadres who finished the 26.2 mile trek through the neighborhoods of Boston, I salute you. You are tough, you are amazing, you are committed, and you did it! All my congratulations to you.
I almost watched with envy as the race went on...and I say "almost" because I don't know that I would have wanted to be running in those conditions. Still, there was something about this year's race that fascinated me, particularly the 98% of starters who finished in absolutely miserable conditions -- and with little prospect of a PR. For some strange reason, it inspired me enough on my own run today that I haphazardly decided to run my own 26.2...
I came home from work Friday around 7, completely exhausted and immediately jumped into bed. To say I wasn't feeling well would be an understatement. With Teddy sniffing my butt, I crawled on my hands and knees to the toilet and rested my head in the white porcelain bowl for a time. I had pulled two all-nighters during the week and either the lack of sleep or the stress was catching up. Twelve hours later I awoke to partially blue skies. A storm was brewing and though I still felt tired, I knew I had to get in a long run ASAP, or else the storm would sideline me. I fiddle-farted around for a while...trying to wake up my stiff body, eat some energy, drink lotsa caffeine. Although I really did want to do a long run, I think I was kinda half-hoping that the storm would hit hard and I could have a semi-good excuse to not put in several sloppy hours out stomping through the rain and mud. But that was not meant to be.
I drove out to my starting point...Rattlesnake Bar...intercepting a call from my mom to let her know that I would be out running. "How long?" "Oh, I dunno...a couple hours." I replied. To myself I thought, "If I'm lucky!" I scarcely knew if I would be able to run 10 miles, yet alone the previous goal of 24.
As I made the 45-minute drive out to Loomis, I decided to really try to get in my 24 miles...even if it meant I had to walk half of it. I had packed enough food and water to last me at least 8 hours. So why not? I planned my attack -- do a 4 mile out-and-back in one direction and then do the 20 mile out-and-back the other direction (to Auburn). There were good turning (aka "bail out") points around the way, so if I was doing really miserably....
By about noon(the traditional boston start time), I had packed my two water bottles and emergency waist pack (stuffed with gels, gus and a pop tart!), and I was off on my short out-and-back. After just two miles, I couldn't help but to feel good. The trail was rolling downhill and fast, the sky was blue, the robins were singing and there was not a soul about to dampen my spirits. As I sprinted down a particulary steep 15% section, I nearly fell upon a grand idea: Why not run my own "un-Boston"? what's a couple more miles? Instead of hundreds of thousands of people, I could do it solo. And instead of pounding my body against hard pavement, I could do it on trails. And instead of hundreds of screaming Wellesley girls to cheer me on and kiss me at the halfway point, I would run by waterfalls on the Auburn-Cool trail and let the sun and rain shower me with energy and kisses. A new tradition was born....the first (annual?) Alikona un-Boston!
And what a day it was! From cool sunny blue skies that redddened my cheeks, to humid air that dampened my clothes, and ultimately gentle raindrops that came sprinkling down throughout the final hour of my 26.2+ mile journey -- I experienced it all -- just like any other marathoner. The first 6 miles felt easy and fun...I left my ipod Shuffle turned off and used that hour to mentally plan my travel schedule through June, my work schedule through May, and most importantly, my running/workout schedule for the upcoming week. Miles 8-12 were technical, up-and-down sections and it was about then that I started questioning my goal and wondering if perhaps I was being over-zealous in wanting to run a marathon today...only one day after having my head in the toilet and a week with little sleep. Or maybe I was just plain stupid! I fell back on my personal scapegoathe "I'm a blonde! What do you expect?" As I briefly planned an escape route to cut it to 18 miles, I rationalized that any sane 25-year old would certainly NOT be out running an unofficial marathon just for the kicks. What a silly, silly girl I was!
But then a perfectly timed sign from Enimem! As"Lose Yourself" came onto my ipod, I totally pumped up and began singing along, "This is it, Alikona! You've only got one shot..." I thought about my BIG race coming up in the Sierras on my birthday weekend - a 35 miler that experiences 13,000 feet in elevation change at ALTITUDE (6,000'+). I reminded myself that I just needed to get to the halfway point and then I could walk a little, for miles 13.5-16 would be a grind. 1000+ feet grind of a climb. When I alas came out of the "hole" about mile 16, I took a little detour at the 7-Eleven in Auburn (my one un-"aid station") and bought myself a Dr. Pepper and some gatorade. The only time I drink soda is when I'm running (or just after a long run)...why does that carbonation taste soooo freaking good??? After several strange looks from other patrons and drivers on the road (I was running in a skort, legs caked in dirt, and rocking out to Jimi Hendrix), I hopped back on the trail totally rejuved and ready to tackle miles 16.5-20.... which would be all downhill! Yippee!!!
I almost watched with envy as the race went on...and I say "almost" because I don't know that I would have wanted to be running in those conditions. Still, there was something about this year's race that fascinated me, particularly the 98% of starters who finished in absolutely miserable conditions -- and with little prospect of a PR. For some strange reason, it inspired me enough on my own run today that I haphazardly decided to run my own 26.2...
I came home from work Friday around 7, completely exhausted and immediately jumped into bed. To say I wasn't feeling well would be an understatement. With Teddy sniffing my butt, I crawled on my hands and knees to the toilet and rested my head in the white porcelain bowl for a time. I had pulled two all-nighters during the week and either the lack of sleep or the stress was catching up. Twelve hours later I awoke to partially blue skies. A storm was brewing and though I still felt tired, I knew I had to get in a long run ASAP, or else the storm would sideline me. I fiddle-farted around for a while...trying to wake up my stiff body, eat some energy, drink lotsa caffeine. Although I really did want to do a long run, I think I was kinda half-hoping that the storm would hit hard and I could have a semi-good excuse to not put in several sloppy hours out stomping through the rain and mud. But that was not meant to be.
I drove out to my starting point...Rattlesnake Bar...intercepting a call from my mom to let her know that I would be out running. "How long?" "Oh, I dunno...a couple hours." I replied. To myself I thought, "If I'm lucky!" I scarcely knew if I would be able to run 10 miles, yet alone the previous goal of 24.
As I made the 45-minute drive out to Loomis, I decided to really try to get in my 24 miles...even if it meant I had to walk half of it. I had packed enough food and water to last me at least 8 hours. So why not? I planned my attack -- do a 4 mile out-and-back in one direction and then do the 20 mile out-and-back the other direction (to Auburn). There were good turning (aka "bail out") points around the way, so if I was doing really miserably....
By about noon(the traditional boston start time), I had packed my two water bottles and emergency waist pack (stuffed with gels, gus and a pop tart!), and I was off on my short out-and-back. After just two miles, I couldn't help but to feel good. The trail was rolling downhill and fast, the sky was blue, the robins were singing and there was not a soul about to dampen my spirits. As I sprinted down a particulary steep 15% section, I nearly fell upon a grand idea: Why not run my own "un-Boston"? what's a couple more miles? Instead of hundreds of thousands of people, I could do it solo. And instead of pounding my body against hard pavement, I could do it on trails. And instead of hundreds of screaming Wellesley girls to cheer me on and kiss me at the halfway point, I would run by waterfalls on the Auburn-Cool trail and let the sun and rain shower me with energy and kisses. A new tradition was born....the first (annual?) Alikona un-Boston!
And what a day it was! From cool sunny blue skies that redddened my cheeks, to humid air that dampened my clothes, and ultimately gentle raindrops that came sprinkling down throughout the final hour of my 26.2+ mile journey -- I experienced it all -- just like any other marathoner. The first 6 miles felt easy and fun...I left my ipod Shuffle turned off and used that hour to mentally plan my travel schedule through June, my work schedule through May, and most importantly, my running/workout schedule for the upcoming week. Miles 8-12 were technical, up-and-down sections and it was about then that I started questioning my goal and wondering if perhaps I was being over-zealous in wanting to run a marathon today...only one day after having my head in the toilet and a week with little sleep. Or maybe I was just plain stupid! I fell back on my personal scapegoathe "I'm a blonde! What do you expect?" As I briefly planned an escape route to cut it to 18 miles, I rationalized that any sane 25-year old would certainly NOT be out running an unofficial marathon just for the kicks. What a silly, silly girl I was!
But then a perfectly timed sign from Enimem! As"Lose Yourself" came onto my ipod, I totally pumped up and began singing along, "This is it, Alikona! You've only got one shot..." I thought about my BIG race coming up in the Sierras on my birthday weekend - a 35 miler that experiences 13,000 feet in elevation change at ALTITUDE (6,000'+). I reminded myself that I just needed to get to the halfway point and then I could walk a little, for miles 13.5-16 would be a grind. 1000+ feet grind of a climb. When I alas came out of the "hole" about mile 16, I took a little detour at the 7-Eleven in Auburn (my one un-"aid station") and bought myself a Dr. Pepper and some gatorade. The only time I drink soda is when I'm running (or just after a long run)...why does that carbonation taste soooo freaking good??? After several strange looks from other patrons and drivers on the road (I was running in a skort, legs caked in dirt, and rocking out to Jimi Hendrix), I hopped back on the trail totally rejuved and ready to tackle miles 16.5-20.... which would be all downhill! Yippee!!!
(This is the view from the top of the mountain, looking down into the American River canyon. I had run all the way from past that point where the narrow rivers into the horizon.)
Either it was the sugar rush from the soda or being 1,500 feet above sea level, but I felt as high as a kid at 4/20. ;) I flew down the mountain and made it to mile 20 right about 3hrs 40min -- my Boston qualifying time. How funny is that?!?! I thought, If this was a road marathon, I'd be done by now! But instead I still had 6 miles to go....and the chances of "hitting the wall" were increasing exponentially. About that time, I really started stiffening up....just as the clouds darkened and stirred, the winds howled and I knew the storm would open at any moment. The race was officially on -- who could finish or start first?!?! Kona the Krazy Kid or Mr. Rainman. And so I was off!! Climbs that I had previously walked, I now ran. I was terrified to stop - fearful that if I did, I wouldn't be able to get started again. I didn't mind so much if the rain started pouring, my shirt was already drenched from sweat and the humidity. But as the thermostat dropped faster, my fingers became numb. I was smuggling hard raisins, and I could see the goosebumps becoming more pronounced. Hypothermia has never been a friend to me. And so I ran, pushing harder and farther than I thought my body could go. I thought about the Russian woman who won Boston this year - how she threw down a 5:20-mile at mile 25 to break away from the pack and claim the $500K prize purse. I kept pushing harder and ran 9-minutes for my last mile, good for the thrill of raising my arms in the air as I crossed the imaginary finish line at 26.2 miles with not a fan, spectator, or even a wild animal in sight.
I opened the trunk to my Highlander Hybrid and finally sat down, 4 hours and 40 minutes after I had set out to try to run 20 miles. It was a PW - personal worst for marathon times (about 10:30 pace) but then again this was a trail marathon...and I had done it alone, unsupported and untrained. Exhausted, wet, muddy and cold, I smiled. Rather, I beamed. I was a first ever un-Boston trail marathon finisher.
Life is good.
Alikona
Either it was the sugar rush from the soda or being 1,500 feet above sea level, but I felt as high as a kid at 4/20. ;) I flew down the mountain and made it to mile 20 right about 3hrs 40min -- my Boston qualifying time. How funny is that?!?! I thought, If this was a road marathon, I'd be done by now! But instead I still had 6 miles to go....and the chances of "hitting the wall" were increasing exponentially. About that time, I really started stiffening up....just as the clouds darkened and stirred, the winds howled and I knew the storm would open at any moment. The race was officially on -- who could finish or start first?!?! Kona the Krazy Kid or Mr. Rainman. And so I was off!! Climbs that I had previously walked, I now ran. I was terrified to stop - fearful that if I did, I wouldn't be able to get started again. I didn't mind so much if the rain started pouring, my shirt was already drenched from sweat and the humidity. But as the thermostat dropped faster, my fingers became numb. I was smuggling hard raisins, and I could see the goosebumps becoming more pronounced. Hypothermia has never been a friend to me. And so I ran, pushing harder and farther than I thought my body could go. I thought about the Russian woman who won Boston this year - how she threw down a 5:20-mile at mile 25 to break away from the pack and claim the $500K prize purse. I kept pushing harder and ran 9-minutes for my last mile, good for the thrill of raising my arms in the air as I crossed the imaginary finish line at 26.2 miles with not a fan, spectator, or even a wild animal in sight.
I opened the trunk to my Highlander Hybrid and finally sat down, 4 hours and 40 minutes after I had set out to try to run 20 miles. It was a PW - personal worst for marathon times (about 10:30 pace) but then again this was a trail marathon...and I had done it alone, unsupported and untrained. Exhausted, wet, muddy and cold, I smiled. Rather, I beamed. I was a first ever un-Boston trail marathon finisher.
Life is good.
Alikona
