Four years ago, I realized that my long runs weren’t much shorter than a half marathon, and that, since I had some free time, I might as well bump them up to an even 13.1 miles. I ran all of Warner Parks and the Harpeth River Greenway that I could. When I moved back to Boston, I explored every direction from Kendall Square in an 8 mile radius.

On one of these expeditions out past the Chestnut Hill Reservoir in September 2020, I was feeling so good after 8 miles that instead of turning around as planned, I kept going for 26.2. I don’t wear a GPS watch, but I had an idea based on pace when I was at 12 miles, and I followed signs to Babson for the extra bit.

By the time I made it back to the reservoir (~20 miles), I understood why people train for marathons and have aid stations. I ducked into a coffeeshop for water and walked the rest of the way back. By the time I got home, I had slightly overshot 26.2 miles in about 4 hours. Since then, I’ve wanted to come back and do a “real” marathon there. It’s just a coincidence that the Boston Marathon is as big and prestigious as it is. If I’d gone to college in any other city, it would have been an easier dream to realize.

After 3 years and 3 “real” marathons, I qualified for Boston with a time that put me as close to the front as I’ll probably ever been.

Then I proceeded to run the stupidest race ever (with such stiff competition as the 5K I ran with blisters from roller skating the night before). I’d expect to be more disappointed at my performance, but judging by the number of bizarre mistakes I made, I feel like I salvaged a result that could have been much worse. Besides, returning to my marathoning roots was more an experience of nostalgia than revenge. By that measure, I excelled. Although the Boston Marathon is a point-to-point from Hopkinton to Boston I walked through all the same parts as the first time.

I told everyone and myself that my goal was to run under 3 hours, but was it really? Since reading Trick Mirror and becoming an armchair behaviorist, I always entertain the possibility that my motivations are the shortest distance between my actions and the consequences.

It’s funny the way your goals can change as you see them slipping away too. During the race, my goal shifted from 3 hours to just beating my Madison Marathon time. Now that it’s over I’ve changed my goal again to just have fun, enjoy the experience, and look back on it fondly.

My training was much the same as previous races, except instead of tapering, I did a 20 mile training run 2 weeks before. It went well and boosted my confidence, but I’m not sure I gave myself enough time to fully recover.

The Experience

It’s hard to directly convey how big of a deal the Boston Marathon is. Even though I knew going in that there would be around 30,000 runners, an order of magnitude more than I’m used to, it’s a large enough number that it didn’t register to me until being there and seeing the operation. Despite living in Boston for 2 previous iterations of the race, I’d never been to see it. It was pouring rain in 2018, and I don’t have a good excuse for missing 2019.

All I can do is try to gesture at the indicators of scale that stood out to me. Most marathon expos I’ve seen have a few booths for running brands and sports drinks. This expo had all that plus booths for Honda, some branch of the military, the Las Vegas Police Department, tourism groups for various countries, and a large booth with around 50 cosmetologists (accompanied by the scent of burning hair from 50 curling irons).

On race day, I woke up before 6 to catch a Green Line train that filled up with runners. I checked my bag (the official and only accepted clear plastic drawstring bag issued to me at the expo) at one of the ~20 school buses near Copley, then got on one of the many other buses to Hopkinton to wait in a school field for a couple hours before walking half a mile to the starting line¹.

The start was divided evenly into 4 staggered waves based on qualifying time. The Downhill Marathon got me into the 3rd corral in the 1st wave, and yet at no point could I see the front of the pack. There were runners as far as I could see in both directions.

The Race

Exactly at 10am, after the Star-Spangled Banner and a short speech, everyone started jostling towards the front of the corral. Without any gunshot or other indication that we had started, we kept jostling forward until we were in a jog. Then we crossed the starting line. Multiple times from then through the first few miles, I literally got chills from how many people there were both running and cheering. (Chills I could have used later on when it got close to 70 degrees and I was dousing myself with water at every aid station).

Over the first 7 miles, everything felt great. I was running with everyone. It was mostly residential, so people had brunches out in their front yards with their neighbors, and they blasted the theme from Rocky and Eye of the Tiger. I gave lots of kids high fives.

After the first mile, I saw I was way faster than the 6:40 mile pace I had planned. “Gotta slow down.” I said to myself while not slowing down even a little. I’ve told so many people that marathons shouldn’t hurt until the last 6 miles, and you shouldn’t even think you’re hurting until around mile 16, so I knew things were bad when I started feeling tired at mile 7.

One obvious-in-hindsight effect of racing in a crowd is that it’s hard to see things. Miraculously my parents and I saw each other in Framingham ², but I kept missing mile markers. I thought I missed the first aid station with glucose until I realized I was a mile behind where I thought I was, which was a blessing and a curse.

As soon as I got to a quiet section near Natick, I walked for a minute because I’ve heard it’s good to walk before you have to. It felt like it helped a lot. That’s when my pace fell behind my 6:40 goal, but I still made it through the half (and the Wellesley Scream Tunnel which I heard at least 200 meters before I saw it) in under 7 minute pace (1:26).

I’ve read that Heartbreak Hill at mile 20 is hard because the course to that point is a net downhill which causes more muscle soreness. Actually now I think the reason is that there are secretly at least three other hills in the few miles leading up to Heartbreak. The hills didn’t really affect me though because I was already walking at that point.

Someone cramped up right in front of me and I tried to help him stretch out of the goodness of my heart and also because it gave me time to rest. I don’t think it helped him that much.

Unlike my last time on the course, I tried to run as much as I could towards the end even though I felt like I could hardly jog. I would try to run until my right quad felt a cramp coming on. When I tried to stretch it, my hamstring threatened to cramp. My last miles were around 10 minute pace.

One other thing about the scale of the race was the finish area. I always try to finish strong. No matter how much I’d walked before, I was determined to run through the finish, so I started picking up the pace as soon as I turned onto Boylston (as much as I could without cramping). I glanced up and it looked like the finish was right there, but it turned out it was far away and much bigger than I thought. I still finished at a jog, albeit a much slower jog.

Also, my shoulders got sore early on, as if I had been shrugging the whole time. I couldn’t figure out why since that’s never happened before. In a moment of clarity just beyond the finish line, I realized it was probably because I packed a big backpack for the trip that I was lugging around for days beforehand.

Aside from water, the most common things people held out were Twizzlers and orange slices warmed by the sun. There was one house handing out beer (didn’t see any takers) and one with a Johnny Cash impersonator singing Boy Named Sue in the bed of a pickup. I got 15-20 high fives and one wet paper towel.

I wish I could remember the most clever signs. “Where’s everyone going?” is a classic that always makes me chuckle. By far the most common ones had Mario mushrooms and stars that said, “Tap here for a power up”.

Even heading back to my friend’s place in Central to shower, multiple random Boston strangers stopped to congratulate me.

The Postmortem

The aspect of the race I anticipated the least was the effect of the crowd. They were very motivating both when I was running and walking. Of course it’s harder to walk when people are watching (I tried to only walk in spots where there weren’t many spectators, but eventually they were continuous), but also they’re so loud that it literally distracts from pain. That’s great near the end when you need to fight through it, but it hurt me at the beginning when I was running faster than I should have been while thinking everything was fine.

There are many things I could change to run faster. I would have brought rolling luggage. I wouldn’t have done that 20 mile run right before. Maybe I’d have splurged on a hotel room bed instead of crashing at a friend’s (thank you again). I’d have followed the Brooks employee’s advice who told me to insist on only seeing family after the race. Maybe I’d even invest in a smart watch.

But the single biggest thing I should have done is start farther back with other people who were planning to run my same pace. I was too excited to start closer to the front. As it was, it was harder for me to pace myself independently, and I didn’t get the boost of running with the same people for a long time. (It was strangely isolating in that way. Despite being surrounded by people for the whole time, there’s no one I remember running with like I did in smaller marathons).

The downhill marathon spoiled me into thinking there were no consequences to going out faster than intended. However, since that was such a quiet course, I felt much more attuned to my body than I was able to in Boston. Absent that ability to self-adjust, I should have relied on staying with other runners going my pace.

Someone asked if I had any pre-race rituals. Maybe traveling made me forget my usual nervous routines. Normally I read fellrnr’s Marathon advice, especially the top 10 race mistakes which really would have helped this time.

What’s Next

For a moment there, I was tempted to try to return to Boston for a better result, but it was such an overstimulating experience (which I’m glad to have done once), that I think I prefer the smaller races. I’m sure the other Majors would be similarly overstimulating, and I’d prefer to visit those places without a marathon looming. If I continue doing marathons, I’m more inclined to stick close to home.

That said, I have once again registered for the Honolulu Marathon, another huge race I’ll have to travel to, in December, this time with a couple more friends.

It sounds stupid to say, but I want to run under 3 hours in Honolulu. (A round number is just such an alluring goal time). The guy I met on the bus out to the starting line at Boston had run it once and said not to expect anything great. It’s too hot and humid even in December. But I think I could be in shape for that kind of time as long as I focus on sticking to my pace, and find some other runners to stick with.

I also registered for my first Triathlon, a sprint length, for June 1. Even more than Honolulu, I’m planning to do that just for fun with not much extra training or expectations aside from a few dips in cold water.

That’s all on the visible horizon. I’ve been focused on Boston for so long that this feels like the end of a chapter, and I’m not sure what races will be in the next one. I know I’ll keep running, and I like to have a goal, but I don’t feel the need to do more marathons.

On the other hand, it was inspiring to race with so many strong runners, and it does make me want to improve. It’d also be nice to not have to qualify my best marathon time by explaining what course it was on. I’m sure that I’ll run more, probably after a short break, I’ll look for other small races closer to home.

Right now, I want to turn my attention towards trail running. I loved the half marathon trail race I did in training. There are so many nice hikes in my area, and I’ve only done the popular, crowded ones. After all, I started running longer distances as an excuse to explore. Why not keep that going?

Many thanks to everyone who wished me luck or asked how the race went, and to everyone who would have if I had told them. This is the full answer I would have given if I weren’t afraid of talking your ear off.