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.