Reflections part 1: "Chicks dig runners"

"Chicks dig runners". That was just one of the inscriptions that appeared on the space blanket we were given to stay warm after the Boston Marathon. It lead to an embarrassing question from my wife but she seem to be satisfied with my explanation that that was simply an machine embossed note that appeared on all blankets produced for the race. Phew!

I am back home in Oz now and time for a few more Boston Marathon reflections before I put the race to bed.

"Oh, what a feeling!" That's me in blue. The Boston Marathon was easily the slowest of my three marathons but by far the most satisfying (3.14, 3.16, 3.22 respectively). I had been well prepped for my first two marathons. For Boston it was anything but.

I arrived in the US vastly under prepared: no speed work, little hill work, one poor run of 30+ k’s, weekly mileage in the 50 to 65 k doldrums, injury and illness ridden and lacking confidence. I arrived in Boston early to acclimatise but found that jetlag, too, was hard to beat and I slept poorly for each night I was in town. I was far from being at my peak physically by race day and the odds were against a good run.

Yet mentally at the start I felt great. The occasion itself obviously helped but really there is no doubt that what got me across the line was the phenomenal support I received from, you, my friends back home in Oz and, secondly, from the incredible spectators that lined the course.

I was overwhelmed by the level of support I received from my family and friends. I have referred to this before but will do so again because I can not overstate how much this all meant to me. I drew enormous strength from it. Throughout the race I recalled many times the poems, the emails, the cards and other specific words of encouragement that many people gave to me. The wonderful support I received was very humbling, and was far more than I deserved. It played a major role in how I ran on the day.

With the spectator support, I tried to give a sense of this in my previous report. I am not sure I really did it justice. The press said crowd numbers were down due to the weather, and maybe this was the case. All I can say is that for a small crowd they made a hell of a lot of noise. The numbers built up along the course and from Boston College at the 20 mile mark were 3 or 4 deep behind the roadside barriers. There were so many cries of ‘go dad’, ‘go mum’ ‘good job runners’, ‘go Canada’, ‘go Mexico’, ‘go Costa Rica’ etc etc that it was difficult to take it all in. I was even astounded at one point to see a sign that said ‘go Don Smith’. I slowed and thought, hey, what’s this? It wasn’t for me but I took strength from it anyway.

When I arrived home on Thursday I was intrigued to read in the Weekend Australian magazine an article about Deek's fantastic win in Boston in 1986. As Jim Fixx did in the 1970s and I did in my earlier post, Deek specifically referred to the girls from Wellesley College who he said treated him like a rock star. For a mere mortal such as myself it wasn't much different.

These were chicks that certainly did dig runners! I slapped hands with each one of those young ladies. I had a huge smile on my face as I ran down that line and was close to a tear, I guarantee it. It was like running through the middle of a wind tunnel with the vortex generating a noise of jet engine proportions. Felt good. I just couldn’t believe I was experiencing all this. W hat right did I, an ordinary runner from Downunder, have to receive such adulation? I can’t answer that question and will ponder it as one of the mysteries of this magic day.

The other mystery is the nature of the Boston course itself. It's a point to point race starting in the township of Hopkinton then weaving through Ashland, Framington, Natick, Wellesley, Newton, and Brookline before finishing in downturn Boston. A profile map shows it as mostly a downhill run and I have to admit that I found it to have many accommodating down hill portions. Heartbreak Hill was taxing but not too bad and certainly not has steep as our own Heartbreak Hill during the City to Surf. Yet every runner I spoke to says Boston is a deceptively difficult course. There may be something to this. While the hills are not especially steep there are a lot of them and collectively they may take their toll by the end of 26 miles. I think the jury is still out on this one.

I am definitely feeling a post-Boston letdown. As I rode Boston’s subway out to the airport last Tuesday my mood, surprisingly, was dreary. Boston's weather didn't help: still cold, wet and miserable. Boston had been my dream for so long. It had been achieved. What next?

To be continued.