The Boston Marathon: This is the Beginning

Oh Boston.  Boston.

Its  two weeks later, and I'm finally ready to sit down and write about it.  For those of you that are friends with me in person or on social media, you know the highlights of how this one played out.  It was absolutely nothing that I expected it to be.

And it was absolutely everything I needed it to be.

This race report is going to be a little bit different - because I can't do it justice in the traditional format.  Boston was, hands down, the hardest physical race I have ever done.  And mentally and emotionally - the easiest.  This is not a story about how I nailed a PR, executed a negative split, or raced to my athletic "potential".  It's a story about how somehow - the universe gives you exactly what you need, when you need it most.  It's a story for - when you look for the good stuff - you find it.  It's a story about beginnings.  Intrigued?  Let's go!

A few years back, I was talking to a fellow triathlete about an ungodly ridiculous race I did in a bomb cyclone and he looked at me and said - ya know - its funny.  Most people wish for the best conditions....me?  I like my races to be memorable.  Weather = memorable.  And I thought he was nuts (Note - I still kinda do, but since I actively am still friends with him, we can infer a few things about me LOL).  I never understood truly what he meant until this race.  

As we know, I went into Boston with a LOT of physical and mental baggage.  Training wasn't what it needed to be, and I knew it.  And life was a complete mess.  Of course, you know me.  In those stormy situations you can either bitch or dance in the rain, and armed with my poncho, running supplies and a few awesome friends, I chose the latter.

I knew going into the weekend a PR was a long shot (sub 3:30) but promised my coach I would race smart and give it my best.  Our crew - Dave, Eric and myself - left the Roc Saturday morning and ventured to Boston.  I've run with Dave "dumpster fire" many times, and Eric was a new friend.  Eric was injured, Dave was gunning for a PR, and I was....along for the ride.  And what a damned ride.  As we became best friends over road snacks, podcasts and poop jokes, a few things were evident - this weekend was like nothing I had ever experienced.  It was vegan Thai food and too much walking.  It was Eric's obsession with women's clothing and products (completely by accident, but when you have four daughters....).  It was full of laughs, "that's what she said" and my uterus falling out (whoops).  It was a crap ton of coffee, not enough water and dancing in the streets.  It was....not about the race. And that was oddly enough - perfectly fine.

The day before, as Dave and I shook our booties in watermelon and moo shorts, and as I gazed out at the Charles river post shake out run - I knew the weekend meant something.  In the hotel room, when there was nothing left to do but scroll social media and see all the AMAZING messages I got from people.... that I never expected....I felt....so damned grateful.  And on a random Instagram send, the song "This is the Beginning" by Ely Eira came up - I'd never heard it, and the lyrics gave me chills:

Been dreamin for so long

Said we'll make em all come true

Now our stories just about to be told

This is the beginning 

I played it for the boys, and Eric looked at me and said....ya know....tomorrow is all about the unknown for me, too.  Nothing was what I expected.  And this is why we do it....We don't know what kind of ending we are gonna have.

Holy shit.  I felt that.  And race morning - when the temps were predicted to hit the 70s, I smiled.  When the trek to the busses was over an hour long....I smiled.  I wore my Brockport hoodie I have had since 2001 that allowed me to reconnect to my past (hey there buddy!), and smiled.  I listened to "This is the Beginning" on repeat - and knew - this was going to be a day. A day I would never forget.

At bag drop off, I met my new best friend, Tammy from Wisconsin.  We immediately bonded, and then boarded the bus to meet our second newest best friend...Julie from North Carolina, who we immediately dubbed "Super Girl" for reasons.  We partied to Hopkinton with the 12 J's on the bus who made us laugh for over an hour.  And with my new best friends, we braved the athlete village and insane wait for the porta potties until the "Smurf" (blue) wave was called.  It was already 70 out and my shoe was rubbing my baby toe.  I didn't care.  Oh, I was smiling.  This was BOSTON!  

I headed to the start with Super Girl and we smiled the whole way.  Before I knew it - we were OFF!  As my corral surged to the start, I saw the iconic "Boston start line" painted on the ground and holy shit guys - I lost it.  I cried.  I could not believe that I was actually HERE.  It was so surreal.

The race plan called for a smart 16 miles around marathon pace - 7:45 - then to tackle the hills wisely and race the last 5k.

Know what?  Fuck the race plan.  So sorry mean dude.  You did awesome, and I love you so much.  But I FINALLY understood why - you dont race Boston.  Not for the day we had, and honestly, not for the day I needed.  BY the 6 mile mark, I knew my legs did not have what they needed to PR.  And....did a 3:29 matter?  Nope.  Did a 3:45 matter?  Also, no.  So....I did a weird thing.  I threw a party.  Oh hell, did I throw a party.

I took a beer the frat boys offered me at mile 11 and immediatly shot gunned it.

I kissed a Wellsley girl at mile 12.5 - and I liked it (Yes, that's only a Katy Perry reference, but she was, in fact, a decent kisser - don't worry, I still like boys LOL)

I threw up said beer at mile 14.

I high fived Sponge Bob and a Taco.

I danced with Tigger and Big Bird.

I powered up with every kid, took every popsicle, shared my boob ice, and at every single town, cheered with the crowd.

I took walk breaks as needed, but I ran ALL the way up Heartbreak hill.  Over the past year and a half - running up this hill felt damned poetic. Take THAT!

And at mile 24, when I saw the sign that welcomed up to Boston, I lost my shit.  I got so emotional, I couldn't breathe and had to stop.  A cheer squad asked me if I was ok and I replied - I'm fucking here.  I am here.  And I cant believe this.  And with big ugly beautiful tears streaming down my face, I ran toward the finish.

It was poetic.  My legs hurt.  I was in more physical pain than I can ever remember.  But I never....wanted it to end.  I have never done a race where I wasn't actively seeking the finish line, but this was it.

And then....I turned left onto Boyslton. And there it was.  The finish line.  And I got chills.  I choked up.  I couldn't even fathom that this freaking non athletic chubby kid - was here.  It wasn't an easy one and done.  Back in 2008, when I did my first marathon....I never dreamed of this.  Of this big beautiful beast of a unicorn.  Holy SHIT.  It was here.  And I looked around.  And I knew no one - which I always thought would be a bummer, and one of my Kona reasons.

  But....it wasn't about that.  And I knew....I would never forget that moment.  Of running across that beautiful blue and yellow finish line and looking at the guy next to me who spoke not a word of English, and we enveloped in the biggest hug anyways.  Of  crossing to the athlete village and immediately calling my ten year old to tell him I loved him SO DAMNED much.  Rob wanted to be there so badly - and he wore mom's jacket to school that day, and he is....without a doubt....one of my biggest "whys".  Of calling my best friend and sobbing to her about how I fucking DID Boston.

I don't remember most of the rest of it.  For those that know "Athletic Rae" there were questions - because this wasn't the race to look at the finish time.  Of my mile splits.  Or heart rate.  My heart was bursting.  And it had nothing to do with the heat, the hills or my time.  As I looked down at my beautiful jersey, full of the love from my family and friends - I felt it in my heart that this was the beginning of something so darned beautiful.  And I was so damned grateful to have the experience.

Post race was full of all the normal shenanigans - beer, all you can eat hibachi, skeeball and left coast doctors....along with the promise of all the "maybe" post race :).  And even though none of us could walk, it didn't matter.  None of us had the race we expected, but we all had the weekend we needed.

Boston, you have my heart.  Will I be back?  I have no idea.  But I have no regrets, and you gave me exactly what I needed - the fire and ice (well, about that) and the excitement of what the future holds.

What does that mean?  I have absolutely no idea, and I still don't.  But whatever it is, it's gonna be epic.  This IS the beginning.

Boston: More than a Feeling

 Hey y'all! It's been a crazy minute, hasn't it?  Well, I promise I haven't forgotten the blogg-o, but damn.  I'll be real.  It's been a year.  If someone could remind me that joking about a mid life crisis at 35 was a REALLY BAD idea, that would be great.  Cause when 40 hits....it basically says....hold my beer. Yep, it's like that.

But it's a little different this year. Actually, it's much different than 2023.  Here's your 20 second catch up of 2024 - It was alright, it got bad, it got real bad, and now, oddly enough, we are rebounding.  I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  And boy, is it fucking gorgeous.

The last 18 months have taught me two main things - that life never, ever goes as you plan, and that, at the end of the day - you can either look for the windows, or the brick walls.

Wait, what?  I didn't stutter.  Many of you know I'm a giant book nerd.  Years ago, I read a short story that has always stuck with me....

 It was about two men in hospice - they shared a room, and were bed ridden and could barely lift their heads.  One was in a bed by the door, and the other man that had the bed further away from the door would tell the man by the door about everything going on outside the room through the window he saw.  He would chatter about the sunshine, the kids playing, and the amazing sights.  The man by the door was really bitter about this - he wanted to be able to see this great view.  Eventually, the man that told the stories of outside passed away, and the man by the door waited a few days then asked the nurses if he could move to the vacant bed.  They complied, and the next morning, with great effort, the man lifted his head to look outside and saw....a blank wall.  Confused, he asked the nurse what happened to the window - and the nurse replied - there has never been a window in this room.  And the man, even more confused, spoke about all the sights the man that had died shared with him.  The nurse looked at the man and said....that man that shared all that with you....he was blind. 

Wow.  I've thought about that story quite a bit this year, and it reminds me of two things - that you never know what someone else has going on - and most importantly - if you look for a wall, there will be one.  If you look for a window....you will find one.

And the past few months - have been about windows. I leave for Boston this morning.  I have been dreaming about this race for over a decade - and when I qualified in November 2022 at Philly - I was over the moon. It was a total dream come true.  I had zero idea the trajectory my life would take in the next year and a half. Honestly, in the last 17 months...I have fallen down so many times and wasn't sure I could recover.

I did. I qualified for Kona.  I didn't go.  And after that, I threw all my energy at Boston.  It was a redemption.  It was a rebirth.  And it was...a window.  A badly needed window.  I was SO gonna do this race with the biggest PR ever!

As life would have it, a few months ago, life intervened and plans changed.  Massively. And in midst of all of the mess, I had a choice.  What to do about Boston.  Not going was never a choice - I promised myself that- but my aggressive goal was.  And really, in the last few months...year....I've really stepped back to think about that stuff.  I don't regret a single decision I've made or path I've taken, but when life happens....you can either see the walls or the windows. And you adjust accordingly.   (and for all of you that have Lil John in your head, you're welcome.  Me too)

This time - I saw the window.  And while my training through this mess has been mediocre at best for a

PR, that's honestly not the point.  The point is - to embrace the experience. To be so damned grateful for it.  My travel plans changed once, twice, three times - and I am now going with two amazing people that have picked me up, pointed me in the right direction, and are taking care of every. single. detail.  I just have to pay my way and show up...and run.  They both know Boston and are taking this rookie under their wing.  There will be insanity.  There will be beer.  There will be laughing.  It's a dumpster fire.  And its the perfect way to do Boston.

I ditched my running singlet and with the help of the people I love best - will be running with all your names on my shirt.  I threw out my playlist and took in suggestions from the best people that flooded me with songs that mean something to them.  I listened to every single one and I felt all the emotions that they were sent with them.  Thank you. Truly.  I know I have a piece of your heart. I already love everything about this race - and I'm not even there yet!

I'm sure I'll get even sappier as I toe the line at Hopkinton and see Boylston.  As I see the iconic start and toe the line with the world's best.  Its a dream come true.

But it's not about that.  Its about the last year and a half and all of those angels that got me there.  Its about those people that you meet on your path.  When you fall, and they pick you up.  When they look at you and say - or prove - they got you.  And even though the last year and a half has been absolutely mind boggling - I am one of the luckiest people in the world.  And I wake up every day knowing it - seeing those windows. Of  all of the exciting things that are ahead.  And being so fucking grateful for all of you.

I can't even name everyone, but I'm gonna try.  To the French fry gang - QVC, Those People, Swimmer Dude and Ham Bro.  You guys picked me up when I needed it most, and I will never forget it.  Ever.  8 minutes.  To Mean Dude - dude, I'm sorry I gave you that name - but for the last 16 months, you have done nothing but believe the best in me - and I cannot wait to do you proud.  To Zeus - you got me started.  And I'll never forget it. To my Renegade - five years ago, it was about piggy backs.  And you still carry me as one of the best friends I could ask for.   To Ken - you are my best bad decision maker.  I'll get back to you about November.  And every other amazing bad choice we have made!!  To my Y swim crew - Bear, Cat Woman, Kris, Mike, and my favorite speedo boys - you guys are the best.  I still can't swim but thank goodness we don't need to do that Monday - save a spot for me in the hot tub next week!!  To 1:20 - Thanks for believing in me when I didn't - and I can't wait for those "recovery runs" when I get back!  To cruise - You're ok.  And when life hands me lemons, I am so glad I have a lemon tree!!  To my dumpster crew - you helped me qualify and you've put up with my shit ever since.  And I'll never forget it.  

To my amaazing kiddos - Rob and Biz - you always are so great about when Mom runs, and I LOVE our buddy runs and Mom and me recovery - whether its the boots, a bubble bath, or ice cream!  And as always, to my rocket booster.  It's not what I thought it would be.  Far from it.  But at the end of the day - you still are there for me, and you always will be.  It just looks a little different than we thought.  But it's still our adventure.

To the many friends I haven't named but have checked on me, tossed a joke my way, run miles with me, or in some way shown your love - I haven't forgotten it.  And I never, ever will. 

Thank you all.  You have no idea.  But you have my love, and my heart, and I'm gonna go do BOSTON STRONG on Monday for every single one of you!!  Bib is 18486 - Boston.  April 15th.  10:52 start time.  LETS GO!!!!