Did I miss the memo that Sweet Caroline is the official song of Boston? Whelp, according to the folks that braved the terrible elements of the 2018 Boston Marathon...it is.
Let's back track. My husband and I arrived in Boston on Saturday night. We are lucky to have a cousin that lives in the burbs, so we were able to shack up at her place for the duration of our stay which was AWESOME. Sunday, we hit the expo, and weather reports continued to take a downward turn. And by downward, I mean totally shooting to shit. Like 30 mph wind gusts, pouring rain, potential freezing rain kind of shot to shit. Sigh.
So, we did what any runner preparing for a HUGE race would do. We went to a micro-brewery. Unfortunately for me, I was FAR too nervous to enjoy a delicious beer, but there were dogs. Yes, dogs in the brewery. It was awesome.
A couple of hours later, we threw down some pasta, and headed to an early bed.
Monday, I woke up to rain. Lots of rain. And wind. My running outfit for the day, a totally sweet new singlet and favorite shorts were totally out of the question. Being that I am so pale right now I am practically florescent, pants seemed like a good idea anyway. I layered up, wrapped myself in an old space blanket and topped it all off with a Star Wars plastic poncho. It was quite a look indeed- very fashion forward. The hubs dumped me off at the bus pick up location near the finish, and off we were. After what seemed like YEARS, we finally got to the athlete's village. Typically, one may assume that this is like Disney World for runners, but on this day, it was a bootleg version with huge puddles of mud, runners laying around on dirty yoga mats, and frankly, it was just depressing. We all knew that over the course of the next few hours we would be in the rain soaked, freezing cold sixth circle of Hell. And that was pretty much what it was.
Once the race finally started and I stripped off layer after layer (don't think for one second this was sexy in any way whatsoever. It was not.), I knew that it was not going to be a day for a PR or anything close to a PR. I just closed my eyes and planned to gut out every single step and try to run close to even half marathon splits. Miles clicked away and I ran through the first half in right around 1:43- right where I knew I needed to be to re-BQ. Around mile 17, we hit the hills, which consequently did not suck nearly as bad as they did last year. I powered through the inclines and finally at mile 21 they were over. The rain did not cease for a single second and it was almost comical at times. By 24, I rounded the bend and finally saw the freaking Citgo sign. I may have cried a little at this point. Without much fanfare, I crossed the finish, and it was quickly clear that I was done. Like put a fork in me, I am so done I don't know if I will make it to the train. I found my husband, thankfully pretty quickly and we headed out. I was so desperate to change into semi-dry clothing, I changed in the disgusting train station bathroom. This may have actually been one of the more difficult parts of race day as the stall was tiny, and at this point in the game, I started cramping. Do you know how hard it is to put on pants with a leg cramp? Impossible. Don't try this at home.
So, in closing, running in the cold rain sucks, don't try to put on pants with a leg cramp, but be thankful for finishing and tossing around your bad assery. That crap may have sucked, but in the end, running a smart race makes you a better runner every damn time.
