Matt's Marathon Blog

Five days later and I’m dwelling mostly over the spectators and what a unique relationship exists between runners and rah-rahers in the Boston Marathon.

Go to Fenway and cheer on Pedroia or Big Poppy. Cheer as loud as you want. Get good enough seats that perhaps you make eye contact with these demigods as they reach the on-deck circle.

No contact you have, however, will really convince you that your encouragement has a direct correlation to a home run.

The Boston Marathon is wildly different.

When you’re sucking wind, ready to pack it in, slowing to a crawl and stretching out a deformed muscle, one person can make all the difference.

What’s more, when you resume your pace, when you grin, raise your head, point to that one person, they know, immediately they know, that they just saved your ass.

Remember that the next time you’re in the theatre and the lights dim. The actors can often count on you as much as you rely on them.

Four hours beat me, not the other way around but I crossed the finish line, collected my medal and took the T home with my wife. Some collected thoughts along the way:

1) If I ever do this again, I’m going to think more about the amount of coffee I drink before boarding the bus.

2) Hopkinton is great but don’t get used to it. Some runners sprinted off the course less than five minutes after starting to relieve themselves in the brush of Hopkinton.

3) Next year I’m changing my name to Kerry. Kerry seems very popular. She had people cheering her everywhere.

4) I’m not impressed with people that blatantly advertise along the route, particularly those in support of political candidates.

5) Around mile 20, someone gave me a package of caffeinated goo. That hit the spot.

6) I remember when I was at Boston College that occasionally the student body succumbed to the temptations of alcohol. Gratifying that that hasn’t changed.

7) Never in my life have I seen so many cheering with such commitment or sincerity. There were at least a half dozen times I was considering throwing in the towel when a perfect stranger made eye contact with me, fixed me with his/her eyes, told me I could finish and basically acted as if they had been waiting all day just for me. It’s possible that it was someone I knew and I was losing consciousness but I can’t ever describe the generosity of spirit of those that cheer on the marathoners.
Around mile 20, my right hip started coming unglued which later caused my right knee to flare up and/or blow out. The last three miles were particularly painful and led to lots of running four minutes/walking one minute and so on.

9) Heartbreak Hill delivered on its promise.

10) At the finish, I got a medal and the woman who gave it to me said, “You did a great job,” with such gravity, I was momentarily convinced I won.

I love the Boston Marathon.

When we started this whole thing, it was, I don’t know last summer or last autumn and once a week Weylin and I would run to the Zoo and back, a total of three miles.

The other night, I went running by myself and I circled Spot Pond, which is about six or seven miles total, double where we started.

I passed all our old landmarks. There was a point where we said, let’s see if we can run farther than the Zoo and we’d stop at the nature center and then we’d run to the old hospital and then to the point where the running trail diverges from the road and then to the ice skating rink.

Every time we stretched ourselves to go a little farther, it was fun and we were proud and we still thought that running a marathon would be easy.

Or, if not easy, at least, not this hard.

Today, Weylin went off to New York to pick the last show for Season 11’s line up, which means that our training together is offiically over. We’ll meet up on Monday morning. We’ll wish each other luck. We may even stay together for the first five miles or so.

At some point, I’m guessing we’ll get separated and then meet up at the finish and here’s me wishing him, Weylin, the best of luck.

I never would have done this without you.

Today was the Doyle’s 5-mile road race. I’ve done it every year since 2005. My best time was roughly 37:20 but I was pushing myself then.

Today the goal was to focus on my pace, not to worry if I was passing people or getting passed, and just to relax. I still did the thing in a little over 39 minutes, so a very even 8-minute mile pace.

And it felt great.

Huzzah!

…should pay more attention to where they cast their lines.

I’m just saying.

PS: The greatest pure pop song ever is Billie Jean. If you’re ever running a long distance, bring it along.

I know that Gatorade is going to turn the Boston Marathon into a huge marketing opportunity but will I get snacks along the way? I’m not talking about a ho-ho or nothing, just some fresh fruit. I’ll tell you though, Snickers makes these 100 calories Snicker bars that are very portable and also delicious at two in the morning when insomnia strikes.

Friday I set off for what is to be my last big big run before the Marathon. The goal was to run 20 miles (my route took me from home to Coolidge Corner, out to mile 17 and then back through Copley Square and from there, four miles to home).

At about 16 miles, I started to crap out, mostly because of the heat. At 18.5, I felt like I had enough and I was hitting Jackson Square and thought, “Hey, I could just hop on the T and head home from here.”

Then I saw a bus and thought to myself, “Hey, that bus goes right past my house.”

So I started chasing it.

And chasing it.

And chasing it.

And about a mile later, I thought, “Hey, I’m running. I should just run home.”

So I did.

…is turning white from salty-sweat deposits. The end must almost be near.

…for breaking wind while you’re running 18-20 miles, I would have broken it today.

Good Friday indeed.

PS: I chaffed off my right nipple in the bargain.

After two really lousy weeks of running, brought on by ineffective inserts supplied by questionable physical therapists, I think I’m close to being back on track. Today I ran about 14 miles in just over two hours and ended much stronger than I started out.

A billion years ago, Fred Ward starred in a Indiana Jones knock off called Remo Williams, The Adventure Begins. To give some sense of the glory of this movie: Joel Grey plays a Korean.

In a key scene, Williams learns to run so fast we can glide across a sandy beach without leaving footprints. In the movie’s climax, Grey replicates the trick, running across water. This is more or less the model I set for myself when running.