BOSTON OR BUST - 26.2 MILES TO GO (PART I)
On April 18 at noon, I started off on a goal that took me 19 years to achieve. That goal was running in the Boston Marathon. Sometime back in high school, a friend and I joked about how our goal was to run the Boston Marathon. This was absurd because we weren’t distance runners, we were 3-milers at best. We just kind of thought that maybe one day it would be nice. And now we jump ahead 15 years.
After a 15-year break from running, I decided I needed to start running again. I was 25 pounds overweight and an overeating, drunken slob (for more in-depth coverage of this time of my life, refer back into the archives for the story entitled “Endurance Junkie”). Well, I started running…and running and running. Then I started running marathons. All of the sudden, I thought that maybe that goal I had joked about in high school could now be achieved. I was not at the Boston Marathon caliber of running yet, but I could be if I worked harder.
You see, to run the Boston Marathon, you have to qualify by running a designated fast time for your age group, say 35-39 years of age. My qualifying time would need to be 3 hours, 15 minutes, or 3:15. My first marathon back was done in a 3:57. Not bad, but I had a ways to go. Eventually, I got a little better and better. My progression of times were as follows: 3:45, 3:41, 3:35, and then 3:25. I was getting much closer to my goal of 3:15. And then I had two troublesome marathons of 3:51 and 3:48. I was going in the wrong direction and thought that maybe I couldn’t do it.
But a simple three months after these two troublesome marathons, I was at the starting line for the San Diego Rock and Roll Marathon. This marathon had worn me down once before, so I knew I had my work cut out for me. When I got to the halfway point of this marathon, 13.1 miles in, I was right on pace to finish in 3:15, but I still had another 13.1 miles to go. I knew soon I would start wearing down and would have to run through some pain and some cramps.
With one mile to go, I looked at my watch and realized I was still right on pace, but I was beginning to fade. I thought to myself this was the do-or-die moment, and it could all fall apart here. I just put my head down and pushed my legs as hard as they could go after running 25 miles already. I actually started passing people in my jaunt to the finish line. If I don’t slow down, I might be able to make it, but I knew it would be close. Then I turned a corner and saw the finish line 200 yards ahead. I told myself to just hang on for another 200 yards and you’ve got it. I chugged and chugged and finally crossed the finish line. I stopped my watch and looked down at my time. I saw it and I couldn’t believe it. I had to take another look.
After all that hard work, after all those miles of running during my training for this race, after all those years that just wasted away, I could not believe that my watch was correct. I needed a 3:15…and my watch said 3:14:56. I had done it, with four seconds to spare! All of the sudden, the pain I was feeling went away. My exhaustion had suddenly turned into overwhelming energy. I felt like I could run forever.
I went back to my hotel room after the race and I just couldn’t stop smiling. It was a weird feeling to achieve a goal that seemed so unattainable. And to achieve that goal a mere 19 years later somehow made it all the more sweet. I just remember looking in the mirror before I left and asked myself a question I had asked myself before when I was a drunken overweight slob (see “Endurance Junkie” story in my archives)—“Where are you going to go from here?” And this time my answer was, “Boston”.
(Stay Tuned For Part II)
After a 15-year break from running, I decided I needed to start running again. I was 25 pounds overweight and an overeating, drunken slob (for more in-depth coverage of this time of my life, refer back into the archives for the story entitled “Endurance Junkie”). Well, I started running…and running and running. Then I started running marathons. All of the sudden, I thought that maybe that goal I had joked about in high school could now be achieved. I was not at the Boston Marathon caliber of running yet, but I could be if I worked harder.
You see, to run the Boston Marathon, you have to qualify by running a designated fast time for your age group, say 35-39 years of age. My qualifying time would need to be 3 hours, 15 minutes, or 3:15. My first marathon back was done in a 3:57. Not bad, but I had a ways to go. Eventually, I got a little better and better. My progression of times were as follows: 3:45, 3:41, 3:35, and then 3:25. I was getting much closer to my goal of 3:15. And then I had two troublesome marathons of 3:51 and 3:48. I was going in the wrong direction and thought that maybe I couldn’t do it.
But a simple three months after these two troublesome marathons, I was at the starting line for the San Diego Rock and Roll Marathon. This marathon had worn me down once before, so I knew I had my work cut out for me. When I got to the halfway point of this marathon, 13.1 miles in, I was right on pace to finish in 3:15, but I still had another 13.1 miles to go. I knew soon I would start wearing down and would have to run through some pain and some cramps.
With one mile to go, I looked at my watch and realized I was still right on pace, but I was beginning to fade. I thought to myself this was the do-or-die moment, and it could all fall apart here. I just put my head down and pushed my legs as hard as they could go after running 25 miles already. I actually started passing people in my jaunt to the finish line. If I don’t slow down, I might be able to make it, but I knew it would be close. Then I turned a corner and saw the finish line 200 yards ahead. I told myself to just hang on for another 200 yards and you’ve got it. I chugged and chugged and finally crossed the finish line. I stopped my watch and looked down at my time. I saw it and I couldn’t believe it. I had to take another look.
After all that hard work, after all those miles of running during my training for this race, after all those years that just wasted away, I could not believe that my watch was correct. I needed a 3:15…and my watch said 3:14:56. I had done it, with four seconds to spare! All of the sudden, the pain I was feeling went away. My exhaustion had suddenly turned into overwhelming energy. I felt like I could run forever.
I went back to my hotel room after the race and I just couldn’t stop smiling. It was a weird feeling to achieve a goal that seemed so unattainable. And to achieve that goal a mere 19 years later somehow made it all the more sweet. I just remember looking in the mirror before I left and asked myself a question I had asked myself before when I was a drunken overweight slob (see “Endurance Junkie” story in my archives)—“Where are you going to go from here?” And this time my answer was, “Boston”.
(Stay Tuned For Part II)
posted by Cruzbomb at 7:50 PM
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