A Marathon Day to Remember

I’m sitting here in my 2010 Boston Marathon long-sleeve technical shirt and it feels pretty damn good. Yesterday was a great day (more on that later) and today, as the afterglow of running the marathon begins to slowly fade, I have the unavoidable feeling that a big chunk of my life is missing. For six months, training has been a gradually increasing part of my daily existence – of my daily thinking – that I find myself still thinking about my next training run; about whether what I’m eating for dinner will carry me through my run tomorrow; whether I’m hydrating enough; what the weather’s going to be like; what time I have to get up to get my run in; when I’m going to have time to post to this blog.

But that’s all gone. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that it’s gone. It’s a lot off my mind, but at the same time, it’s a bit sad that it’s gone. Sort of like the marathon itself.

But what a day it was yesterday.  Some thoughts and observations.

10.  4:13 was the official time, but 4:11 was my true time when you factor in the 2 minute break as I waited to hit the port-a-potty around mile 5. Was I happy with that? Consider that it’s 14 minutes faster than my previous PR (personal record) and 16 minutes faster than what I ran when I was 22. Yeah, I’m happy with it.

9.  Wall? What wall? Marathoners talk about hitting the wall – that imaginable force that makes it hard for you to pick up your feet one more step. During training, I hit the wall at mile 13 of one of my 20 mile runs and at mile 19 of the other. I hit it at mile 13 of a 16 miler and not at all during an 18 miler. On my first marathon, I hit the wall somewhere around 15 or 16. On my second, I hit it around 17 miles on First Avenue in Manhattan. Yesterday, I hit it briefly just past the 25-mile mark and before long I was turning onto Boylston Street and I had climbed over it.

8. Weather, weather, weather. What a difference it makes. It was cool at the start and stayed comfortable throughout. In the 50s, with cloud cover and no wind to worry about it. Beautiful, absolutely beautiful running conditions.

7. Thanks Mom and Dad for giving me a common name. If you’ve ever run or watched a marathon, you know that runners put their names on their shirt so people can cheer them on by name. From the first step to the finish line, I heard people shouting Go Mike or some variation constantly. And I mean constantly. Whether it was for me or another Mike on the other side of the course, I don’t know. I do know that I gave more high-fives (particularly to the young kids with their hands out) than I can remember, although not nearly as many in the last five miles and not one going up Heartbreak Hill.

6. What a great cause. When I wasn’t hearing “Go Mike,” I was hearing “Go Dana-Farber” or more often, “Go Dana Fah-bah” thanks to my colorful Dana-Farber race singlet. Lots of Dana-Farber signs throughout the course and lots of Dana-Farber runners.

5. Speaking of Dana-Farber, the support and organization of the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge team is unbelievable. From the minute you sign up to the moment you leave the post-race recovery zone, you feel special and supported at all times. The small staff and the super-friendly volunteers are just fantastic. Thanks DFMC.

4. And speaking of Dana-Farber runners, special thanks to fellow DFMC runner Bethany. We started running together somewhere after mile 5 or 6, discovered we were planning on running the same pace, and stayed pretty much together until the end. It was a huge help to have the company and we both pushed each other when we were fighting through a tough stretch.

3. One more runner worth special mention: Valerie Bertinelli. The actress and former star of One Day at a Time in the 1970s ran for Dana-Farber days before she turned 50. (That's me with her, her trainer Chris, and fellow DFMC runners Missy, Laura and Micaela.) She had a goal of running a marathon before she hit 50 and she did finish. Good for her.

2. You know how they say the Wellesley girls are unbelievably loud and crazy. It’s true. Except they’re louder and crazier than I expected. 

1.  And finally, one last shout out to my generous friends, family and colleagues. On race day, I had 102 online and offline donations for nearly $6,400 raised. I’m hoping to get to $7,000 by the end of the month. There’s still time to donate at www.rundfmc.org/2010/michaelb.

I hope to post some more pictures and video here soon. Thanks to everyone for all their support, encouragement, good jokes – and to those around me the most, particularly my family, their patience and understanding.  It’s been a great run.  

--michael

Running Naked

I knew that would catch your attention.  But don’t be alarmed: I’m not running the marathon naked. The goal is to raise money for Dana-Farber, not to scare away the crowds lining the streets of Boston. But Sunday was the last day of running with my Fuel Belt.

For those of you unfamiliar with it, a Fuel Belt is a relatively lightweight belt with a small pouch and four plastic water refillable water bottles. On a long run, I’ll fill them all up, put some Gu packs in the pouch, strap it around my waist and take off. But the problem is: I never felt like I’m taking off. The combination of the belt strap, the weight of the water, and the water sloshing around – always felt like I was weighed down. Come Marathon Day, the Fuel Belt will stay at home, the Gu packs will go in my shorts pockets, and I’ll rely on the water stops for water.

And Marathon Day will come soon enough, just a week to go. That makes this likely my last post before the race. So, my final top 10 observations and comments for the week...

10. For those who have yet to contribute, there's still time to do so. Please visit my fundraising page at: www.rundfmc.org/2010/michaelb to make a donation.

9.      After the most comfortable 10 miles I’ve ever run, I took a 2-3 minute break, took off my Fuel Belt, and went out for 2.5 more. It felt like I was sprinting. That’s how I hope to feel on Marathon Day.

8.   Cool weather would help. I’m just saying…

7.   Not to sound too fatalistic, but it always seems to work this way: whenever I mentally need a good long run, I have one. After my bad 20 miler? A great 20 miler? After a week worrying if I was ready for the marathon, I have a 12-miler where I feel like I can run forever.

6.      If you string together all my training runs, I’ve covered the distance from New York to Savannah, Ga. 

5.  Savannah’s a real nice city but next time, I think I’ll fly there.

4.       There were 1.48 million new cancer cases in the US in 2009, and 12 million cancer survivors living in the U.S. I’d bet a large number would love to be training for a marathon. That’s why I run.

3.      And actually, some of those survivors ARE running a marathon. Now that’s impressive.

2. I’m glad I’ve kept this blog. It’ll serve as a good journal to reread after the race. But now, after six             months of running; six months and 24 posts worth of blogging, I think I’ve finally run out of things to say, except for this:

1.  Thanks for reading and for all of you who have offered up your support – financial and moral. It’s all very much appreciated. My bib # is 22564. To track me during the race on April 19th, go to http://registration.baa.org/2010/cf/RegAthleteAlert/pg_AthleteAlert.cfm?mode=preentry&snap=51214658&  You can get text or email of my progress.

            I’ll post again after the race!