Chronicles of a fish: the days of surf and turf

Heyyyy....total chaos here. Two explosions went off behind me as I left the medical tent (yes, I ended up in the medical tent w/cramping and nausea) thus causing chaos and concern. Pretty crazy and horrific scene here. No, I did not get my sub 3:30, but I am so okay with that. I could not have given any more with the cramping in my calves that started around mile 18 (I think it was mile 18)....and this explosion thing really puts things in perspective. Very sad here.....

Abhainn is okay. I just got a text from him.

Irish Times?? Too funny. Just wish in had sounded a bit more intelligent....I was still wrapped in a blanket, processing what had happened, and in my dripping, stinking running clothes when I wrote that. Oh well......

Report to follow...maybe tomorrow. And don't worry....it will not be epic in length. But if I can figure out how to load a pic or two I will share Abhainn's water debut as captian of the ship.

<sigh>

The weeks and days leading up to this most awesome event were filled with great excitement and quiet confidence. The excitement was two fold: 1) I was honored to have qualified for this race and then be accepted to participate in it and become part of its history, and 2) I was looking forward to meeting up with some friends (new and old) from the boards here. The quiet confidence was simple: I had trained my @ss off and I knew what I was capable of and I felt 3:30 was a soft target, even with the course's hills that I had studied and did not fear. Ecoli and I had gone over all the paces for the course, and I was determined to stay conservative and disciplined to ensure that I at least hit my shout-out-loud target. Mentally and physically I was solid and ready to go.

Race morning

Up before 5am to shower, dress and eat breakfast delivered by room service that consisted of Cheerio's, whole milk, and orange juice, and I snagged the banana and bagel with cream cheese that was included in this early morning feast to take with me on my journey. I was out the door around 6:30 and walked across the street and through the park to meet the buses to take me and the masses and masses of other runners to the athletes' village. The trip to the village was spent talking to my random bus companion, a funeral director from Pennsylvania. Nice guy, but we didn't exactly have any sizzling conversation on our ride to the start.

Once deposited at the village, I really had to pee. I knew the queue for the loo was going to be horrific so I briefly sized up the wooded area to my right that was already being used by a few fellas, but upon seeing two law enforcement officers making a bee-line for the boys who were relieving themselves, I decided I'd suck it up and head straight for the proper potty. I found a spot to sit, stretch and relax....ate my banana....then headed for the loo queue again. Once relieved for the second time, I heard my wave being called to start heading out. I dropped my bag off at the designated location and decided to hit the loo one more time...only to stand in line for about 10 minutes before I realized I was cutting things too tight and I might miss my start. Oops! I took off at a fast walk which turned into an easy jog which turned into me weaving my way around people who were in my way and past a man who shouted "you'll never make it!" Bull crap. I had no intention of not making my start and having to wait another 20 minutes for the 3rd wave to take off. That. Wasn't. Happening. And it didn't. Whew!


The race

So....have you ever had to run in a mass of humanity where you couldn't move? Where every elbow to either side of you represented a possible blow to your ribs? Where every foot to the front and back of you made you wonder why you didn't wear your bicycle helmet? And that for as far as you could see ahead of you reminded you of that Hasbro Lite-Brite game you had as a kid? Well, this was ten times worse than all of that. It was frickin' claustrophobic crazy. In the first two miles I saw several people accidentally tripped, and I was elbowed numerous times. We were a moving carpet of runners whose pace was dictated by those around us. It was ridiculously and dangerously congested for the first 6 to 8 miles I would estimate, and uncomfortably congested for almost the entire race. But I suppose that's what happens when you're positioned in the back of wave 2 at Boston.

I knew the first mile was slower than I was supposed to be going, but it was honestly out of my control, however I did not panic. I could hear Ecoli telling me to claw it back gradually. I also had the words of a fellow boardsie with me telling me to make every step count, and with all that in mind, I tried my best (but did fail somewhat) to limit my movement to forward motion only while resisting the urge to weave in and out of other runners. I knew I was doing too much weaving when I started to see a discrepancy in my Garmin and the mile markers. Ugh! Inefficient!

I started to settle into a nice groove on mile 4 - the legs felt good and I found a nice rhythm. With the target paces burned in my mind and the necessity to stay absolutely positively disciplined burned in my heart, I kept the first 16 miles bang on target from where I was perched. Splits were:

Miles 1-6: 8:18, 7:52, 7:43, 7:31, 7:42, 7:27
Miles 7-16: 7:24, 7:31, 7:31, 7:38, 7:36, 7:28, 7:42, 7:33, 7:50, 7:38

I remember I was starting to feel pretty hot at this point - I was a bit overdressed and even briefly considered taking my top off and running in just a sports bra but decided I didn't want that image permanently recorded on disk from here to eternity. And it was also around this time as I was easing up the hills that I started to experience cramping in my calves, and eventually my feet. This was a new concept for me as I don't typically experience cramping in my legs and I wondered if the fact that I hadn't consumed any Gatorade to this point had contributed to my unwelcome situation even though I had been taking on 3 shot bloks every 3 miles starting at mile 6. I'm still not sure. And to add insult to injury, it was also around this time that my Garmin decided to take on a life of its own by going in and out of satellite, thus rendering me clueless for a good bit of the next 10 miles about what pace I was running and forcing me to do some crude math as I passed each mile marker to give me an idea of how far I was falling behind.

The last 10 miles were pretty miserable with the pain in my calves from the cramps I was experiencing. I focused on the fact that I "only" had "x" number of miles left...and I kept reminding myself to relax. I also started to slow at the water stations to ensure that I consumed plenty of Gatorade, and I employed the tactic of grabbing two waters - one to drink, the other to pour - but none of that really helped to make me feel any better. I lost track of the hills at some point...and eventually lost my chance at a sub 3:30. I tried to make a comeback by really digging deep with three miles to go, but that just wasn't enough. Splits that are recorded on my watch are as follows:

Miles 17-21: 8:11, 8:23, 8:20, 8:34, ??
miles 22-26: ??, 8:49, 7:36, ??, ??

26.2 miles in 3:32:34

Post race

I crossed the finish line thankful to have this race over, and I immediately knew I missed my mark by a good 2 minutes. I snagged two bottles of water and stopped to get my medal placed around my neck. As soon as I stopped moving, my left calf very painfully contracted (you could see it contract!) and I was unable to stand on it. A volunteer knew something was wrong and offered assistance. About that time my right calf seized on me and I no longer was comfortable standing....so.....out came the wheelchair (that's right!) and I got a free lift to the medical tent where I was nauseated and feeling like total crap. My body temperature had dropped to 93 degrees (they immediately wrapped me in a blanket) and was given the ultimatum of either downing a bottle of Gatorade to replenish my electrolytes, or being hooked up to an IV to replenish my electrolytes. I chose the former and somehow kept it all down. Happy days. I saw a physician and had a physical therapist work on me, and when I felt I was strong enough to stand, they discharged me.

I walked out of the medical tent and through the finish line corral when the first explosion went off behind me. It sounded like a cannon to me, and I thought to myself what a strange time in the marathon to have a celebration, but when I turned around I saw the white smoke....then the second explosion went off. It was so hard to process what had just happened, but immediately those around me feared it was a bomb. I remember looking up to the sky to see if we were under attack (a byproduct of living through 9-11), but thankfully the sky was clear. It seemed there was a moment we all were paralyzed and unsure what to do, but soon enough we all started moving away from the scene. I remember there was a smell in the air too. Funny the things you remember - the initial "boom" being the most significant of what I remember. In fact, I can still feel the initial "boom"....as it was tangible.

Pretty much at that point we all were being ushered out of the area, and in our place came the emergency vehicles one after the other with lights flashing and sirens sounding. It was chaos. Quite a tragic and horrific scene. I didn't have a cell phone and I was all by myself, but a lovely marathon volunteer loaned me hers to call hubby, and she even insisted on walking me the few block to my hotel. Once in the hotel, I was told for my my safety not to leave, which was fine with me because I was glued to the tv watching what I had just been witness to.

Later that evening, we ventured out with Abhainn, Mrs. Abhainn, DukeofDromada, and wildrhubarb.....but with all the sirens going off, the streets and establishments thick with police, and the military rolling in before our very eyes, it was not without worry as every trash bin took on new meaning to me. Even the next morning, Tuesday morning, the continuing sound of sirens coupled with the addition of news reporters littering the streets was a reminder in the fresh morning light of the darkness that had occurred less than 24 hours before. My thoughts were and still are with the victims and their families of this useless tragedy, and I pray they somehow find peace in what has happened. I cannot imagine their pain - it must be way beyond anything I have ever experienced, even on this particular day for me in Boston - and it puts my disappointment in my result in proper perspective. I will have another shot at 3:30, but the same cannot be said by all on this day.

"No more hurting people. Peace"
~Martin Richard, 8 year old Boston Marathon bombing victim

Solobally8 wrote: »

Thanks for the report Dory. I'd say it wasnt an easy one to write. You are one tough cookie. Great time, wonder what the cramping was about? Maybe the heat?

After going over things with Ecoli, it may have been a case of heat, dehydration, and poor electrolyte/potassium replacement (poor, or essentially none). I was drinking water, but perhaps I was relying too much on the shot bloks to care of too many needs.