Boston Bound?
Since I began running with my friends last September, a.k.a. the fastest girls in town, a.k.a. the No Drama Mamas, I expected to qualify for the Boston Marathon on March 2nd at the Albany Marathon. We were all planning to run the Boston Marathon together; but for those smart readers who haven't concerned themselves with such things, you have to qualify for the Boston Marathon by running another certified marathon at a particularly fast pace. I did everything I believed I should do to achieve this goal: track work, strength training, half marathons run at race pace, yoga and injury prevention exercises (all in addition to my usual swimming and cycling).
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| At the finish line of a half marathon trail race with fast girl, Amy. |
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| Race pace 15K finish. Feeling great. |
My training culminated two weeks prior to race day with a Saturday that included: a ten mile race pace run, an hour of torturous Crossfit, a 50 mile ride with my cycling club in which I pushed the pace hard (to the annoyance of the ride leader), and then a 15K road race the following morning in which I held race pace. I thought for sure I was ready. I began the rest and recovery phase of training. I loved having a goal in front of me that I felt confident I could achieve. I visualized. I practiced race day mantras. I read motivational books. When race day finally arrived, I felt ready.
The race began so well!
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| The No Drama Mamas at the Albany Marathon starting line. |
Like most marathons, the Albany Marathon offered pace groups. I decided to begin with a pace group just a bit faster than what I needed to qualify. I thought I might surprise myself. This is a lifelong tendency I have-- overestimating my abilities.
The first few miles were wonderful. They were astonishingly easy. My legs were springs. I was running 15--30 seconds faster per mile than I needed for my BQ (Boston Qualifier). However, by mile six, I began to struggle a bit. My stomach didn't feel well. My legs were getting heavy. Had I gone out too fast? I decided to slow down to race pace and assess. I was still well ahead of my BQ pace group.
Mile Ten was my last decent mile. At Mile Eleven, it all went to Hell (Sorry, Mom). I had purposely chosen to carry all my own fuel to avoid the very thing that happened: nausea, diarrhea, even a little vomiting. The only blessing was that I made it to the porta potty-- every single time.
By the halfway mark, I was well behind my BQ pace, and I knew my Boston Qualifier wasn't going to happen. To my horror, I watched pace group after pace group pass me between miles eleven and twenty. I couldn't bring myself to talk much to the friendly back of the packers as they passed me. Every well intentioned "Good Job!" they threw my way felt like a taunt.
At Mile 16, I stopped at an aid station where a kind volunteer texted my one man support crew-- John Degonia, a.k.a. the hubby, a.k.a. the Loyal Marine-- and asked that he find me on the course and rescue me like a lost puppy. At every turn, I looked for his bright orange shirt. The tracker app he relied on was giving him crazy information. He wasn't able to find me until mile twenty. My loyal Marine ran four miles trying to find me! Relief, not shame, filled me at the moment he appeared. I simply wanted to disappear; to click my heels and be home.
I wasn't the only dropout. We gave another guy a ride back to the start. He had also been hoping to run a BQ. Unlike me, he was already talking about the Publix Marathon in Atlanta the following month. I still wanted to throw away my running shoes.
My running partners were quietly supportive when they heard the news. Unlike me, they had run the half marathon. Also unlike me, they had a good time; and one had won her age group. This is normal for her, so no need for an exclamation point there. ;-) They began immediately searching for my next marathon while I was still wiping away tears.
My husband drove us home. He never complained. He made us laugh. He likewise did not act ashamed of my performance, but focused on how strong I looked in the first few miles. I appreciated this. As usual, I didn't tell him.
On the long drive home, my No Drama Mamas began talking about other marathons I could aim for. I pretended to ignore them for a while.
But I have a score to settle now. Something I thought I could do is actually more challenging than anticipated. I began researching marathon training plans. I committed to laying off other training while I dedicate myself to this challenge. Then yesterday, this happened:
Let the challenge commence.
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