In December 2010, I decided to go after the marathon. It was the one distance I had never attempted (I wasn't even considering the insanity of an ultra at that stage). I announced to my coworkers, friends, and family, of my intentions to not only run a marathon, but to run a time that will get me into the iconic Boston Marathon. This long term goal gave me purpose.
My first marathon (Lehigh Valley, 9/11/11) started off well. Unfortunately too well. I felt I could run with a group of a dozen runners striving for sub 3 hrs. My thoughts were to hit 1:30 and then hold on to a sub 3:15. I learned my lesson that day (one I have repeated since), as I walked most of the last 8 miles for a 3:54. I had Hartford Marathon in 4 weeks, already booked, with Las Vegas 6 weeks after that. The general feedback was to not race Hartford (some said skip it), and go after my 2013 BQ (now dropped to 3:10) at Vegas. Members of my running club, the Mohegan Striders, encouraged me to jog Hartford - a 2hr goal for the first half and then finish strong. The goal they said, was to finish without walking. Much to everybody's surprise - even myself, Hartford resulted in my first Boston Qualifier in 3:08. I went out super conservative, but picked up the pace as the miles ran by. I ran a near perfect even split that day. When I crossed the finish, I erupted. I finally earned it.
I ran my first Boston Marathon in 2013, the 117th running, and most infamous run. I didn't have the race I had planned for. Too quick of a start was followed by cramping and walking near the end of Heart Break. Then downhill start took its toll on me. I was warned...but didn't listen. I cursed at myself over those last few miles. The race wasn't as fun as it was supposed to be. Why did I buy that framed plaque? I want to return all my new Boston clothes. Turning onto Boylston Street, however, all my pain and misery melted away. I found my family on that stretch. Stopped and gave them hugs and kisses. Surrounded by thousands of people, time was irrelevant. I was here, Boylston Street on Patriots Day. I did finish, well off my goal of requalifying for 2014 Boston. It didn't matter. I got my medal and gave the volunteer a huge sweaty hug. I was on the runners high.
60 minutes later, while we waited at the bottom of the mall escalator, to eat at Cheesecake Factory - the world changed. We were within 1/2 mile to the finish. We didn't see or hear it. We exited the mall and walked 1/4 mile before eventually turning around. Past a huge church amd it's wading pool (to be honest, people aren't allowed in the water, but I don't really know what it is). We were in the initial chaos of the moment. First police cars and ambulences. Police motorcycles riding on the sidewalk to get to thr finish quicker. It took us an hour to eventually find out what actually happened. The hotel conceierge told us in our hotel. The lobby was jammed with marathoners. Many of them straring at television screens. To this day I feel my day was tainted. I balance it however, knowing I was fortunate to have finished. I was fortunate to be uninjured. I lived. My family was with me, safe and accounted for. My first Boston, like many thousands of runners that day, was stolen.
It took me a month to physically recover. It usually only takes me a few days. Much of that delay was mostly mental. I was in 'no man's land'. What is next? Do I prepare, as originally planned, for my first 50 mile race in the fall? Do I make the commitment to train for, and requalify for 2014 Boston? It tore at me. I had come short of my Boston goal, but I also knew 2014 Boston would be unlike any other. Could I handle going back? It took a short trail run in late May to help me realize that my goal was always Boston first, then Western States 100. I didn't want to delay earning my first WSER 100 ticket. I also knew that Boston would be in my future again. So to the trails I went, into the psychotic world of ultras.
