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Carrie's Memories of Boston
The 2018 Boston Marathon was the race of a lifetime for me. I was coming off of a great training cycle, despite some significant struggles in my everyday life. Running had been my therapy as I helped one of my sons deal with a serious personal challenge. My body had absorbed the miles beautifully and I was so grateful for that. I had hit times in training that I didn’t know were possible for me. The night before the marathon I laid out my outfit for the next day, set my race bib on top and breathed in the gratitude for what I was about to experience. I sat and looked through the workouts that I had recorded on Strava. I thought through the snowy Utah miles, the amazing friends, and all of the things that had built me up to be ready to make my way from Hopkinton to Boylston.
The weather forecast had just gotten worse and worse every day preceding the race. Race morning proved to be all the forecast had promised and worse. In athlete’s village we found ourselves standing in six inches of ice water, complete with chunks of the hail that had fallen that morning. I stood in the soggy field waiting in bathroom lines, shivering like I never had before. While in the port-a-potty I considered staying there until my race started just to stay out of the rain, despite its fragrance. I decided against that option and headed back to the tent to shiver with the fellow athletes.
When it was time to start I wandered down to the starting corral, shedding soaking layers on the way and changing into a fresh pair of shoes and socks that would soon be soaked as well. While waiting for the gun I looked around at the other runners from around the world and was honored to be there.
“I turned to [my husband] at about mile six and told him that we’d better figure out a way to get back here every year. I was having so much fun.“
The gun went off, and I went with it. This was it. I was running the Boston Marathon. I spent the first 20 miles with my husband. We wove through the crowds, watching the sheets of ice cold water come down. Several times we turned to each other and laughed at the weather; 30 mile per hour winds, sheets of rain and freezing temperatures. We couldn’t change it and laughing seemed like the best option. I turned to him at about mile six and told him that we’d better figure out a way to get back here every year. I was having so much fun. The crowds still came out. A mile before Wellesley College we heard the girls screaming. The energy was fantastic. I couldn’t contain my smile. The miles ticked by quickly.
I had followed the elite field closely before the race and knew the players well. I knew that Shalane Flanagan longed to win her hometown race. I knew that Molly Huddle, the 10k champ, was making another run at the marathon distance. My favorite, however, was Des Linden, whose matter-of-fact approach to running and consistency had inspired me to try and qualify for Boston. One of the highlights of the race was hearing from a spectator at mile 17 that Des had indeed WON the race, making her the first American to do since 1985. I turned to my husband and cheered.
When I approached Heartbreak Hill I looked up and thought, “This is going to be fun.” It turned out to be one of the best parts of the race. I felt strong and in control as I charged up the hill. I must have looked like I was having fun because another runner turned to me and shouted, “Hey there pretty lady, you’re kicking [butt]!” (edited). After Heartbreak I just kept pushing and passing people. I tried to take it all in as I ran.
“When I made the sharp turn onto Boylston Street and saw and heard the finish, I was overcome. I had done it. I had worked so hard to qualify for and then train for Boston. I had closed with some of my fastest miles of the race. I had smiled the whole way.“
At about mile 21 I came up on my dear friend, Emily Riddle, who I had spent hundreds of miles running with as we chased the dream to qualify and run Boston together. When I realized it was her I ran up and grabbed her. We hugged (while running, of course) and celebrated the fact that we were there on the Boston Marathon course together. It was an indescribable joy—the feeling of friendship and accomplishment.
The end of the race was joyful. I felt strong and in control. When I made the sharp turn onto Boylston Street and saw and heard the finish, I was overcome. I had done it. I had worked so hard to qualify for and then train for Boston. I had closed with some of my fastest miles of the race. I had smiled the whole way. I had taken it in. The gratitude and pride I felt were overwhelming. I consider Boston my best marathon performance ever.
Boston not only lived up to the hype. It surpassed my expectations. The energy, the history, the race festivities were all better than I had hoped. There was nothing to be done about the weather, and the city came out anyway to cheer on their hometown race. Qualifying for and racing Boston are absolutely worth the sacrifices that it takes to get there.
“Qualifying for and racing Boston are absolutely worth the sacrifices it takes to get there.“
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