Boston Baked Beans: Reflections on Boston 2004
By John Montgomery
...and just as the Citgo sign came into view, there, floating in mid-air, was Jeff Galloway and he said "TAKE A WALK BREAK".
Well, something like that.
You know I was being cocky about a sub-three hour time but there was no way I could pull that off in 80+ degree weather. The revised plan was to run "comfortably hard" to the top of Heartbreak Hill, then gut it out for the last five miles. Early on (through 10k) it seemed as though this might be my second fastest marathon (projecting 3:12) but as the heat intensified I had to back off the pace and it began to look like a 3:20. Of seven marathons that would be my new "middle" time; three faster and three slower. Still not too bad.
My friends Don and Pete were watching the race from the top of Heartbreak Hill. According to them I still looked pretty good at that point and they assumed I was on my way to a 3:20. Less than five miles to go, forty minutes tops, right? (HAH!) Did I mention that it was REALLY HOT? I was getting a bit delirious and kept hearing Dori from Finding Nemo in my head: "Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming..."
A fire hose sprayed the side of the road, and as I ran through both calves seized in cramps. Fortunately they immediately released again and I continued with an ever-slowing shuffle. Finally in the distance I could see the Prudential building, and then spotted the distant Citgo sign. My 3:20 had slipped away but at the very least I could still requalify with a 3:30, right? Let me just walk for a second...
Suddenly it's an inferno, my head is swirling, everything is getting black. A woman by the side of the road handed me a bottle of juice and thereby saved my butt. The cloud lifted and I staggered ahead in a stumbling walk. But the darkness started to close in again and I knew I had to cool down or fall down. After an indeterminate time engaged in a struggle of darkness vs. light, vertical vs. horizontal, I arrived at a water stop and dumped cup after cup of water over my head. Okay, lights up, heads up, let's get this done!
Maybe a mile to go now, feeling a little better, let's try to shuffle on in. WHAM, my left calf immediately seizes, and I freeze in the road with my toes pointed behind me. As I stand there I look behind for fear of getting run over, and I try to get my foot back into some position useful for forward movement. All right, there we go, now I can walk again.
I vaguely recall reaching mile 25 around 3:28 or so. So much for requalifying! The only goal I have left is to finish without medical intervention. Despite the cramps and near-blackouts it appears that a lot of people are in more trouble than I am. Hundreds of runners stream past but I see many people vomiting, falling, and walking.
On the second-last short block I tried another half-hearted shuffle but aborted mid-step just as the cramp was about to take hold. I'd hate to go over four hours, but what can I do about it now?
Approaching the finish line I'm faced with a dilemma - how does one walk in for a triumphant finish photo? We'll just have to see how that comes out.
So despite being in the best shape of my life, I have just run my slowest marathon. (3:56:25 chip) But it was an unforgettable experience and I consider myself fortunate to have finished. I'm glad our friend Beantown is all right, and I'm anxious to talk to my buddy IrishGibby who finished near me although we never saw each other. I'll bet he's got a story too!
Congrats to all our local Boston qualifiers, survivors and finishers.
Copyright © 2004 John Montgomery