Julie’s Boston 2013 Race Report

We all know how Boston ended yesterday.  Originally, I planned to write a quirky race report about my sixth Boston marathon on April 15th--how I spent a winter torturing my running partner, Felix, to run hundreds of laps around King Farm Park with me in morning darkness in an effort to end my streak of flat lining at Mile 23; how my Montgomery County Road Runners Club (MCRRC) training group came together to successfully coach ourselves under the name Broderick to Boston in memory of our beloved coach Mike Broderick; and how I fought off the voice of negativity in my quest to redeem myself after running last year’s Boston with a chilly towel around my neck in 85 degree heat.  I wish more than anything that I could write that race report, but I can’t because my sixth Boston culminated with the detonation of two bombs at one of the happiest places on earth--the Boston Marathon finish line.

The events leading up to the race did not disappoint this year.  Between meeting Dick Hoyt with Coach Lisa at the expo and belting out Sweet Caroline at Fenway in seats just a few rows behind home plate with my wonderful family, I enjoyed a perfect Boston day before another perfect Boston day--Marathon Monday, a day that is so much more about spectating than running, as what makes this race so special is not the course itself, but the spectators eager to greet thousands of runners streaming through each town with deafening cheers, kisses, beers, massages and beautiful children eager to give high fives to every runner who will to take a moment to do so. 
 

The pre-dawn school bus ride to Hopkinton with my fellow MCRRC runners the following morning was, as always, eerily similar to a bus filled with middle schoolers--plenty of laughter, raunchy jokes, and complaints of people needing to pee after drinking volumes of Gatorade en route.  We all remarked that the 85 degree temperature run last year, which, we affectionately referred to as the Boston Massacre, was a distant memory, and that unlike last year, this race was going to be a superb opportunity for a personal record.

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My biggest concern, like everyone else, was whether I would bomb my race.   That word has now been erased from my vocabulary as a means to describe a race performance.  With my Sandy Hook baseball hat in tow, I walked to the start line prepared to dedicate my 26 miles to the 26 victims of the Newtown tragedy without knowledge that yet another tragedy would occur that day.

 

Using my time from last year’s Boston, I was assigned to the third wave start at 10:40 armed with my own pacer, my friend Ken, a 2:40 marathoner who generously offered to pace me to hopefully a new personal record, while selflessly foregoing the opportunity to set his own personal record on a glorious day.  The gun went off and we calmly began our journey from Hopkinton to Boston.  My breathing was a bit off, but I remained calm and repeated my mantra, “Believe you can.”  By mile 8, I was believing I couldn’t.  Ken could tell I was dragging, and my thoughts wandered to leaving the course and calling it a day.  I got myself together and kept going hoping that these negative feelings would disappear.  They didn’t, and by mile 13, I knew I would not meet my expectations that day.  I adjusted my goal, moved forward and focused on taking in the moments--seeing my husband and children along the course with their “run like a mutha” sign , my supportive friends and family all over the country tracking me online, and--my legs--how lucky I was to be out there running on a course that so many will never have the opportunity to experience.  I crossed the finish line at approximately 2:15 pm.  My time--3:28--about 10 minutes off my goal, but well within the qualifying time I needed to return next year, and at that moment, while still hyperventilating with my quads screaming, I couldn’t wait to return in 2014.

 

 

 

After receiving my medal and my drop bag, I made my way to the local watering hole, Fire and Ice, a few blocks away from the finish line, to meet my fellow MCRRC runners.  Just minutes after entering the bar, reports of a bombing at the finish line began to materialize.  CNN images on television were horrifying, and cell reception was non-existent.  A nightmare was unfolding before us just blocks away as we remained inside confused, shaken to the core, and eager to find our fellow runners who had not yet arrived.  Thanks to Facebook, all runners in our MCRRC family were accounted for within a relatively short period of time.  Nonetheless, we are all family out there--spectators and runners alike--and members of our Boston family suddenly became victims of an unspeakable tragedy that instantly turned the finish line into a crime scene.

 

As we all grapple with this unfathomable act of terror,  I find solace, like so many, in the reports detailing what occurred within moments of the blast.  First responders, race volunteers, and bystanders exhibited extraordinary courage in response to the horrifying scene, while runners, exhausted from running 26.2, ran to nearby hospitals to give blood. The resilience and strength of the great people of Boston and the running community immediately surfaced in the midst of chaos and devastation at one of the most celebrated sporting events in the world.  

The people of Boston are defiant--they will rise above the chaos, and, like thousands of other runners, I am undeterred and eager to proudly cross that finish line next April.  As runners, we lost a part of our innocence yesterday, but we have not lost our determination, our deep appreciation for the great people of Boston and our love of crossing the finish line at the holy grail of running-the Boston Marathon.  See you next year, Beantown, and until then, stand tall and know that runnahs all over the world are with you.

HoJo and Heartbreak--Julie's Pocono Marathon Run for the Red Race Report

Marathons are like childbirth--agonizing pain, followed by a fabulous reward that completely overshadows the agony, and, as a result, serial marathoners willingly repeat the whole experience, while wondering, "How the hell did I end up here again?" I asked myself that same question on Sunday morning while sweating along a two-lane highway during the Pocono Marathon Run for the Red, just four weeks after running the hottest Boston Marathon in recent history.

I am honestly not sure what led me to pay top dollar to stay at the finest Howard Johnson in the Poconos last weekend in exchange for the opportunity to run 26.2 miles in hot-but-not-as-hot-as-Boston temperatures in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, other than my constant quest to run the marathon of my life. 

Like so many of my other psychotic runner friends, I am constantly setting new goals for myself, and, as I mentioned in my Boston Race Report, my running bucket list included a sub-3:20 marathon before I hit the big 4-0. My bucket list did not include running my fifth Boston Marathon with a Chilly Towel tied around my neck and ice shoved down my pants, so about three days post-Boston, I found myself clicking the "register" button on the Run for the Red website, which described the race as one of the fastest courses out there. Holy crap--I'd never run two marathons in one season, let alone in one month.

                                    

Luckily, many of my psychotic running buddies had run two (or more) marathons in four weeks, so I sought their advice and devised a post-Boston recovery and pre-Poconos taper plan to get me to the Poconos start line with fresh legs for racing. Although my Boston recovery was not as quick as I had hoped, I managed to squeeze in a couple of longer runs and a few sharpening speed workouts, including surpisingly winning first female at a local 5K, prior to tapering for race day. Unfortunately, once again, the forecast for race day was less than ideal--hot and sunny, and, I must admit, I seriously thought about throwing in the (Chilly) towel, as I really had no desire to run another sub-par hot marathon again. Eventually, after much obsessive pondering, I made the decision to give it a shot, packed a bag, said goodbye to the family (who thought I was crazy), and headed up for a night at the HoJo in Stroudsburg.

Race morning was unusually low-key.  After consuming a breakfast of Quaker oatmeal and berries while watching an excellent Three's Company rerun in the hotel lobby, I boarded a school bus from the local Stroudsburg Mall and headed up the start line at Pocono West High School. Sitting in the high school, I noticed how many people were wearing Boston attire, and, like me, were looking for a post-Boston redemption race. Although the temperatures at the start were certainly not cool, the conditions were WAY better than Boston, and maybe, just maybe, I could achieve a personal best on this fast net downhill course. I started out running a 7:30-7:40 pace range and felt strong and in control. I stuck to my fueling plan, and drank 8 ounces of Gatorade every two miles, while dumping two cups of water over my head to keep cool. Every four miles, I ingested 3-4 Clif Shot Blocks and every hour, I took a salt tab. The hills were steep, so I was careful to stay in control and not go too fast on the downhills. The shade was typically on the right side of the course, which, unfortunately, was slanted, so I found myself debating whether to opt for shade and slant or sun and smooth. I consistently selected the former to ensure that I remained as cool as possible. As the miles ticked by, I grew more excited as I continued to feel strong and the possibility of hitting a 3:15-3:18 finish time was well within my reach. As I passed through the mile 20 water stop with relative ease, I took my last shot block and buckled down for the remaining hot 10K.

While climbing the final hill at mile 22, I felt a sharp pain near the outside of my left knee. The pain continued and suddenly, I couldn't run. My leg felt like spaghetti, and I immediately stopped to massage the area. I was calm and hopeful that this was not my ITB, which had never been a problem for me until this moment, but the coach in me knew that this was likely the case. I tried to run again, made it to the next water stop and just collapsed on one of the cots behind the water stop. I was stunned. Ironically, this was my thirteenth marathon, and as I furiously massaged the area in a futile attempt to eradicate the pain, I could not help but think once again, "How the hell did I end up here?"


The terrific race volunteers surrounded me and asked me if I needed medical transport. I refused, tried again, walked back to them, and with tears streaming down my face, accepted the offer for a van to retrieve me and take me to the finish area at Stroudsburg High School. I took off my timing chip, waited another minute and quickly realized that, given the narrow roads and the traffic situation, I could walk to the finish and at least finish my unlucky thirteenth marathon faster than the time it would take for me to be retrieved by a vehicle. As I hobbled through the town for the next 3 miles, I could not help but think about my first marathon in 2000 and how determined I was to finish in under four hours, and how excited I was to finish in 3:59:56. I heard the voices of the runners passing me, many of whom would finish in that exact time, and I listened to their breathing, their excitement, and observed their pride as they realized that they would likely break four hours. Ironically, I limped across the finish line in approximately four hours feeling beaten down, disappointed, and frustrated.

I found my friends, who led me to a torturous bucket full of ice, which was exactly what I needed for my ITB. As I submerged my lower body into the ice bath, I clenched my buddy's hand and thought about the season, the crazy training, my own goals, and to be cheesy, Kelly Clarkson. It's true-what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and, this experience, along with my previous twelve marathons are constant reminders that the marathon is a different animal that often presents unpredictable challenges, regardless of your knowledge and experience. In this case, I learned the hard way that, unlike many of my running peers, my body is not capable of running two marathons within four weeks.  

And, as I write this 24 hours later after a delicious post-race meal at Sheetz off the Turnpike, I have perspective once again. It's just another race, and I am damn lucky to have the choice and the opportunity to run. Some days are better than others, and what makes running challenging and analogous to our own lives is that while it's constant, it's also unpredictable, challenging, rewarding, and, in this case, character-building.  

                                          

I would like to thank my sponsors of this year's race, Howard Johnson's and Sheetz.  Special shout-out to the Run for the Red race volunteers, who could not have been more kind and understanding. Congratulations to my MCRRC peeps who ran outstanding races, and to all of those who ran for the Red on Sunday. See you in Boston next year!

The Spirit of Boston

The stories from this year's epic Boston Marathon are numerous- inspiring tales of perseverance, reluctant defeat, humbling realizations. We were privileged to coach Christi towards her goal of running the Boston Marathon along side her husband, Tony, who has MS and is mobility impaired. Christi and Tony ran as part of Team Strike Out MS and didn't let the oppressive heat stop them in their pursuit of their goal of finishing Boston, making Tony the first wheelchair racer with MS to complete the Boston course. With Christi's permission, we're honored to share her experience on Monday:

First I want to say a huge THANK YOU for all of your guidance and support throughout this incredible journey! I am so blessed to have you two as my friends and coaches. Even though I was injured and the weather played nasty tricks on us, I felt strong in spirit and confident in my training that I could face the day and whatever it may bring my way.

It was a tough day not only physically but also emotionally as we were faced with limitations beyond our control with Tony's MS. All the more reason to keep pushing forward! Twice we had to stop so that Tony could use a bathroom. We had not run into this before in training or at MCM so we were not expecting nor prepared for this situation. Both times we had to find a store/restaurant that would allow us in and to use their facilities. Both of these stops took close to 30 minutes each.

I felt pretty good until we hit Wellesley. I was so excited for Tony to experience this and made the mistake of trying to take a picture of him running alongside the women and their kisses. I stopped short and felt like my calves were being twisted beyond repair. I literally collapsed in pain and it took several minutes before I could stand again. That was possibly one of the most painful experiences I have ever had and it felt like an eternity before I was able to focus and stretch them out. We continued on albeit at a slow crawl but I was determined to not give up. I was able to recover but only for short spurts before I could feel the warning signs that the calves were going to cramp again. So we continued on like this, run, walk, run, walk for what seemed like an eternity.

By the time we reached Newton not one single person that we saw was running the hills. Totally different than from my experience in 2009!! I have never seen so many faces of doubt and defeat. It looked like a funeral march and aside from the crowds trying their best to cheer the runners on, it felt like one too. This is about where we saw the first of many casualties that day. People began dropping like flies, it was downright scary. We saw more people vomit than I care to ever remember and also witnessed 2 people unconscious with the paramedics giving them oxygen and trying to resuscitate them. These happened to be about 3 miles apart and talk about scary. It really made me realize just how hot it was and how dangerous it can be if you don't listen to your body and your coaches!!

When we came upon the Citgo sign and Fenway Park, Tony was so excited. He pointed to the sign like a little kid and with the biggest smile he said, "Hey look, it's the Citgo sign! I remember you telling me all about that from your last race here!" He got it! He actually got exactly what so many of us feel when we see that sign and recognize that we are now in the home stretch. At the same time we also saw the temperature posted and it was reading 91*. I can tell you it felt so much hotter and probably was due to the pavement and lack of shade.

What happened next was nothing short of a scene made for a movie. We were trudging along and everyone was doing their best to stay positive and we had grown very quiet. A guy who was running for the MS Society came along side us with tears streaming down his face. He grabbed Tony's hand and said "Thank you. You have no idea what you have done for me today. So many times I wanted to quit and just give up but then I remembered you and your story you shared on Saturday night. You are my hero, you saved me today and gave every reason as to why I should never quit. Not now, not ever." And then he was gone. We were all so lifted by this guy that we found it in us to run the last 2.5 miles and push through the pain and the feelings of defeat we were all experiencing. The finish was magical and Tony cried. I was a complete blubbering mess.

When we got to the MS Society reception a short while later, we found out that the guy who came up to us not only continued on to finish but also re-qualified for next year!! This is when Tony declared how much he really loved what we were doing as a team and that he wants to do MCM again this fall! I was beyond shocked to be honest with you and was worried that the extreme heat of Monday and the long time it took us to finish would have done him in. Not so! I told Tony I was not committed to doing MCM that if I got into New York then that was my fall race otherwise I may just do a few halves. He didn't care, he said he would just race with Iwan and then really have a chance at qualifying for Boston!! I died laughing at his spirit and enthusiasm, but man if he wasn't dead serious! Today he googled the BAA and found out all the info for the mobility impaired qualifying times!! My husband is officially a runner, he is hooked!!

Seriously though, I could never have gotten through this journey without your coaching and support. I cannot put it into words just how much this has meant to me. You two are incredible and I hope someday you both realize just how special and talented you truly are. I am honored and blessed to know you and have you in my life. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!

Coach Julie's 2012 Boston Marathon Report

For the past several years, Coach Julie and Coach Lisa have experienced the Boston Marathon together, capping off our version of a Girls' Weekend with a 26.2 mile run along one of the most renown and historic race courses in the world. This year the experience brought us some important insights into why we love to run. Here, in Coach Julie's words:

For most marathoners, the Boston Marathon is the holy grail of running. To run Boston, you must qualify, and to qualify, you must run a fast marathon. No exceptions. For that reason, runners throughout the world, inlcuding me, relish the opportunity to run the magical 26.2 journey from Hopinkton to Boylston Street. on Patriot's Day. The course, while beautiful and steeped in tradition, is challenging, to say the least. A net downhill first half, combined with a hilly second half, produces disastrous results for runners who fail to respect the elevation and terrain. Nonetheless, with the right training, the course is generally kind to those who execute a race plan that includes running conservatively for the first few downhill miles to preserve the quads for the last tough few miles of the race.

Each year at Boston, I've set a personal record on the course, but this year, in particular, I was intent to run the course in 3:15. I knew I had it in me, and with the big 4-0 looming this year. I thought this would be a great way to close out a decade of marathoning and my fifth Boston Marathon. Like so many other Boston-qualified runners, I started preparing for race day in mid-January. I logged more early morning miles than ever, pounded the track with unprecedented workouts, and plodded through miles of marathon pace (MP) miles to prepare for race day. My training was brutal at times, but rewarding nonetheless. I enjoyed the predicatibility, the feeling of completing a seemingly impossible workout at 5am before most are out of bed, and seeing improvements in my fitness as a result. As I started to taper toward race day, I was ready and excited to tackle the course and achieve my goal.

Unfortunately, springtime weather in Boston is unpredictable and can hinder the performances of even the most elite runners. Although temperatures on race day are typically cool and ideal for running, gusty headwinds and unseasonably warm temperatures are not uncommon. The forecast for Patriot's Day 2012 was beyond unusual--it was downright scary--78 at the start and 88 at the finish with some blazing sun added to the mix. It's a disastrous forecast for any large outdoor event, let alone a marathon comprised of runners who trained thoughout the winter in colder tempatures without any acclimation to the heat.

To their credit, the Boston Athletic Association (BAA) issued mutliple warnings to runners leading up to race day and even provided runners the opportunity to defer their race entries to 2013-an unprecendented move in the marathon's 116-year history. Marathoners are tough, though, and not many even considered deferring, and although I admit that I considered it for a moment, I decided that I would rather race the course on a bad day than not race at all. Like so many others, I fretted about how to tackle the race. How would I adjust my pace for the heat when I wasn't even acclimated to the heat? My race goal was no longer about time, as much as it was about finishing strong without injury--not quite the Boston I anticipated when I started training in January.

The weather weighed heavily on all of us as we gathered in Hopkinton on race morning, and unlike my previous Hopkinton experiences, no one seemed pumped to race. In fact, the BAA seemed to choose a lot of seemingly calming music to pipe through the music system, instead of its usual heavy metal music that's intended to energize the runners before the start. Clearly, the BAA was doing everything possible to encourage us not to race the course. As the clock approached the start time of the first wave at 10am, I noticed that I was sweating already, and I wasn't even moving! I knew this would be tough. Twenty minutes before the start in my futile attempts to control the situation, I placed ice packs on my back and core, tied a goofy Chilly Towel around my neck, and stuck a visor on my head to shield myself from the blazing sun I was about to run toward for the next few hours.

The gun went off, and I started running 15 seconds slower than my originally projected marathon pace. I felt okay and almost a bit confident. Maybe I could do this. By mile 2, I was sweating hard, and I knew any thoughts of slowing down slightly were out the window. If I wanted to finish this race, I would have to slow down significantly and respect the heat. I grabbed ice along the course, poured water on my head at every stop, and, of course, consumed electrolytes along the way. I took salt tablets every hour, a GU every 45 minutes, and hoped that my ad hoc nutrition and race plan would work. As I approached Wellesley, the screams of the girls were deafening, yet, in spite of the levity around me, I was not in a good place. I was still going too fast. I was way too tired, and I had a tough remaining half-marathon to go. I knew I had to leave my ego in Wellesley and forget about my pace. I recognized that, in spite of my fitness, I was not acclimated to the heat at all, and to finish, I had to run even slower.

For the remainder of the race, I measured my pace by my breathing only. If I started to breath heavily, I slowed myself down. I did not look at the others around me. I did not try to pass anyone. I tried to enjoy the course as much as I could, while focusing on my nutrition, hydration, and salt intake. I drew on my training, and knew that I would finish strong if I stayed steady. I thought of my kids and how I could use this experience to inspire (or lecture) them to keep going. I tackled Heartbreak Hill, and then, I knew I had a mere five tough miles to go. The temperature reflected on the clock--88 degrees.

Thankfully, my friend, Jenny, jumped in with me at mile 21. Originally, she was planning on running 7:20s with me for the last five miles to help me achieve my 3:15. Little did we realize that she would instead be running 8:30s with me, which is typically a slow training run for me, while I desperately tried to stay with her. I looked at my watch, and knew if I kept that pace, I would re-qualify the following year, thanks to my upcoming 40th birthday. We ran, I poured water, I drank Gatorade, I shoved ice in my clothes, and she kept me on track.

As I turned the corner on Boylston toward the finish line, I knew I was about to complete the hottest Boston Marathon in recent history and re-qualify for next year. Although it was not the PR I set out to attain in January, it was pretty epic, and a great story for years to come.

Congratulations to all Boston Marathoners who gutted it out on that course yesterday. Enjoy your ice bath and here's to a cooler 2013!

Coaching Bios

Coach Lisa is an experienced Road Runners Club of America (RRCA) certified running coach and accomplished distance runner, multisport athlete and busy mother of three young children. She was named the 2010 Female Runner of the Year by the Montgomery County Road Runners Club and is a top ranked age group runner in the DC Metropolitan area. In 2011, she raced as an elite athlete at the ING New York City Marathon and the Suntrust National Marathon. She has completed over 20 marathons and is a 9-time Boston Marathon finisher. Lisa is a member of Team USA (2012 World Duathlon Long Course Championships, Zofingen, Switzerland and 2010 World Duathlon Short Course Championships, Edinburgh, Scotland) and received USA Triathlon 2010 All American Honors in Duathlon and Honorable Mention in Triathlon. She placed 15th woman overall and 2nd in her age group at the 2012 Long Course Duathlon World Championships in Zofingen, Switzerland.  Along with top runner, certified coach and good friend Julie Sapper, Lisa co-founded Run Farther & Faster, LLC and has coached adult and youth runners of all levels of fitness, in group settings and individually. Lisa particularly enjoys working with new runners and helping others discover the rewards of running. Lisa is a graduate of Emory University and Duke University School of Law.

Coach Julie began running in 1994 as a law student to relieve stress.  Until then, she viewed running as a means of punishment in gym class.  Succumbing to peer pressure, she entered her first 10K in 1999, and in 2000, she ran the Marine Corps Marathon. Since then, she's run countless races of all distances, including over a dozen marathons, and is a five-time Boston Marathon finisher.  She was the 2009 and 2011 female winner of the Rockville 10K, and is a top age group ranked runner in the D.C. Metropolitan area.  Inspiration from her own running coach led her to obtain her running coach certification from the Road Runners Club of America (RRCA) in 2009. In 2010, she began teaching classes throughout Montgomery County for runners of all levels with her coaching partner, Lisa Reichmann, who together co-founded Run Farther & Faster.  In addition to coaching adult runners,, Julie coaches a co-ed running program at a local elementary school in an effort to make running fun and accessible for all kids.  Julie is also a mom of two young children and works as an attorney in Washington, DC.