boston run to remember race report: my turn

I guess I'm qualified to write a race report now, right? Here goes:

So, I was just telling Lloyd last night, I think I have a case of post-race let-down. He nodded so knowingly, no other words needed to pass between us for me to know I was completely understood. It's just that so much mental and physical energy went into preparing for the race, and then the race came and, inevitably, in a few short hours, ended. But my goodness, it sure was wonderful and has already become a source of dewy-eyed nostalgia and a memory to savor, not even quite a week later.

Here's a shot of Emilie and me on Saturday, day before the race, on the waterfront in Boston. In this case, the waterfront isn't so much the feature as our happy, smiley heads. And happy and smiley we were. (For those of you who don't know, Emilie and I are great friends from undergrad days, but much more than that, too; as Emilie pointed out this weekend, we've had incredible adventures together before: NELP, Ecuador, San Francisco, counselors for a summer at Camp Runoia in Maine, and now, half-marathon).


So, let me set the scene for you a bit: cloudless, breezy, cool/warm, excitement in the air, and also loud, blaring music in the air. I can't remember what we heard in the morning, but I do know I crossed the finish line to the blaring sounds of Boston (the band). Fitting, right?

Anyways, here we stand, fit, fidgety, well-trained and keyed up as jackrabbits. So fun. I must say, don't we look pretty great? Between the 2 of us we have lost over 60 pounds since the last time we saw each other last August (she had her second baby February '07). We spent a few minutes at the airport checking each other out and telling each other how hot we look. Aren't we entitled?!

Still milling around at the starting line. She just looks like a badass, right? And she is. Take my word.


The airhorn sounds and we're off--here we go, crossing the bridge to downtown like a bunch of happy sheep.

My face here may say it all--I had the tremendous good fortune of feeling great on race day. My legs felt frisky and coltish and itchy to run after months of training and a few much-needed rest days before race day. Unfortunately, Emilie was still in the throes of a gnarly chest cold and not feeling as frisky as me. More on that in while...


That photo above is the last one we took before we dug in and got serious about the race (that picture was taken just minutes into it). I carried Emilie's little camera in the secret pocket compartment of my shorts (the next day I noticed a little stellate pattern of small abrasions and broken blood vessels on my leg that could only have come from carrying the camera, though I had no idea it was happening at the time. I consider it another souvenir, along with my medal and t-shirt).

Anyways, what happened in the next 13 or so miles is really the crux of the matter--Emilie and I ran most of the first 6 miles of the race together. Emilie's chest felt crummy and she just wasn't at one hundred percent so she encouraged me to go on and run my own pace. At about mile 6 I did just that and we vowed to meet up at the finish line.

And I felt great the whole race--when I let my legs run, they just ran and ran. I ran splits I never did when I was training and passed runners all the way to the finish line (which was a great psychological lift for me, but perhaps demoralizing for the runners I left in the dust? I asked Lloyd about this; he tells me I'm too solicitious, and that that's a great way to have a good race. Hmmmm.) The miles just clicked by and I felt bolder and stronger with each one . My innate competitiveness asserted itself every time I gained on another group of runners. I got one "go, girl" from a gentleman I passed. Thank you, anonymous gentleman.

Also, must say that the weather couldn't have been better--breezy, sunny, temp rising up to probably near 70 at the end of the race (I heard lots of people complain about the heat; are they for real? They should have done 4 miles in 90 degrees like I did this evening. I felt about as peppy as day-old oatmeal. Humidity only 56%. 56%? I don't know what can prepare a person for a North Carolina summer, but I'm sure I'm not ready).

The course itself was also incredible--beautiful, grand Boston. Brick streets, bridges, gardens, college campuses, sailboats afloat on water dazzling in the brilliant sun, even some rowers on the river. Come on, do they do that just for the tourists or are they for real?

So, I finished in about 2:16 (Boston blaring:"when the lights go down in the city....and the sun shines on the bayeeyay....."), which pleased me very much. Collected my medal, got some snacks, and shook off the numbness and achiness of the hips and hamstrings. By then, I calculated Emilie should be approaching the finish line. I saw her coming and fumbled for the camera and managed to turn it on in time to catch this, with the lump already rising in my throat:


Doesn't she look leggy, elegant, and powerful? And she really is, all 3. I felt so proud of my friend, who is quite an athlete, a triathlete, and a very accomplished swimmer, but who does not think of herself as a runner. A year ago she wouldn't have believed she could complete a half-marathon. At several points during our training I know she felt very discouraged. When she crossed the finish line we just hugged a little sweaty hug and enjoyed the teary emotion of it for a minute. She felt very tired and her legs hurt, but she did it, chest cold and all. To read her account of the race, go to her blog. Here we are with our medals.


After that, it's all gravy; we had a swell dockside meal, featuring the fries and beer I'd been fantasizing about as a post-race indulgence. Okay, so I have fries and beer not after races, too, but those felt so very earned.


The time came to say goodbye to my friend even as we were already dreaming about our next event--next summer in Maine? Triathlon? Or relay race? Lloyd found one that would be good for a 4-person team. I told Emilie I think I'm addicted to training for and completing races together.

I spent Memorial Day with another very close college girlfriend, one whom I hadn't seen in over 3 years, my dear friend Susan and her husband and little girl. They live in beautiful Hingham, near Boston. But drats! I don't have a single photo to prove it. Our camera was home with Lloyd and Junie, and I didn't think to buy a disposable. So just believe me when I say we had a beautiful time. How fortunate I am to have spent time with two such very good friends in one long-weekend.

We had an incredible girls' dinner on the waterfront, spent a day at the beach, had a Memorial day cookout feast with their family and friends (it was great catching up with Sue's parents and her brother, whom I hadn't seen since Susie and Tim's wedding 6 years ago), and spent a city day lunching and going to a movie.

Susan and Tim are incredible hosts, and meeting Maggie, their 3-year old, for the first time was a special treat. I like to think Maggie and I bonded over a little tickling and some pretty in-depth discussions about Sadie and Natalie, her most beloved dolls. I feel so thankful for friends like these, with whom I can reconnect like no time has passed at all even after years and many changes of circumstance. Such a relief to find all the wit and frankness still perfectly intact and only sharper. We had laughs and we had serious chats and when it was over, it made me teary all over again to say goodbye, though I did manage to extract a promise to visit us here in NC, making it a little easier to part. And that will be 3 visitors, I hope, next spring; Susie and Tim are expecting their second child in July.

That's my tale--that's what I was doing while Lloyd and June kept busy feeding ducks, swimming, and playing. When I got home late Tuesday evening I gave Lloyd a kiss and a hug and snuck right in to Junie's room to stroke her sweet, sweat-dampened curls. I felt such gladness to be back in my spot in the world. So good to go off to an adventure, so good to come home.