Mont’s Full Fledge Weblog

I want to start this post out by stating a few things.  First, it is going to be long – I have a lot I want to say about the Boston Marathon.  Second, it is something I am wrting more for the eventuality that I will want to reflect on some significant things that happened – I am sharing the experience to remember it and recall the joy from it.  I’ll start with a pre-race post, then move through race day, and finish with a few reflections after the race. 

What stands out starting from Sunday morning April 20th to Monday night April 21st:

Sunday morning it is up and at ‘em first thing in the morning for church, small group, and packing that still needs to be done.  I go to church with the kids and honestly had a hard time focusing.  I try not to berate myself for this because it only makes things worse.  I simply acknowledge that I am excited about the next day so it may be a little challenging to completely focus.  I offer this up to God and decide to pray for the willingness to keep the next 48 hours to be whatever they will be without me forcing an experience that is not there.  Small group is no different and I am pleased to be on the way to Boston.  It may be bad, but I kept thinking let’s get in the car Jesus and go, we can talk on the way…

Got home and Christina had finished her homework, packed our bags, was dressed and ready to go – I love that woman – after submitting her last assignment.  We head out the door and it is off to Boston.  Had some good conversation on the way down to Boston (isn’t it cool how car rides can be such a great place to talk), and promptly got lost getting off 93S.  Boston has changed drastically and apparently they have decided to help people find their way around a double lane rotary by placing a 1ft by 1ft sign indicating where to turn for Charlestown in between eight other signs for various locations off said rotary.  Being the idiot I am I missed it while trying to avoid getting slammed by the other 30 cars in the rotary.  I’m impressed with the planning on that one, I’m not saying I could do it better – but someone got payed a lot of money to design an exit off of 93S that looked like the road plan Joe designed on the floor of his room with Matchbox cars – I digress

 We got to Aunt Joan’s and immediately unpacked a few things then headed out the door.  Joanie has run in 5 Boston Marathons and around 10 marathons all together.  It has been a little while since her last marathon, but her love of running has never waivered.  The way she talks about training, race day psychology, and proper nutrition shows her dedication to race day performance.  However, it has been years since her last race and she still heads out to do 3-4 miles a day just for a “run.”  I can only hope that I will do this once the training, races, and events are no longer possible – as I have said before, I long to be a purist, but have a way to go on this.  I admire Joanie because she is the epitome of a purist.

Once we get on the T and start heading towards the convention center the first red bag appears.  All the runners in the marathon are given red bags that contain race information, shirts, and other hand outs.  The red bag becomes a symbol of someone who is going to embark on the same journey the next day.  What immediately strikes me about my reaction to this symbol is a sense of camaraderie rather than competitiveness.  I think it is, at least at this point, because there are so many people and some world class runners taking part.  You have no choice but to simply run against yourself – to focus on your own goals and time.  If you get wrapped up trying to size up the “competition” you are bound to be freaked out.  There are to many great runners to think about “winning” or whatever else.  It is easy to let go any thoughts of goals for finishing place and that is relaxing – I only long to finish the run in 2:55:00, the rest is out my control. 

The more stops the T makes the more red bags appear.  Soon our car is half-full with people and families involved with the race and naturally that is where the conversation turns.  Soon people start sharing there goals for the next day, where they have come from, and what the race means to them.  It is really quite an amazing thing.  So much so that the other people on the car who aren’t directly involved with the run, but have lived in Boston for years start sharing stories from past marathons.  Don’t get me wrong – this isn’t utopia, more then a few people on the subway looked like they would like to throw all the marathoners into the Charles river, but my anecdotal survey had about 75% of that subway car talking and socializing.  A truly amazing thing and exactly what I think people mean when they say there is an “energy” in the city.  That energy is something that has been the common goal for so many people all coming together and celebrating.  Not just the runners, but the families who have sacrificed time, energy, and many foot rubs to help someone achieve their goal.  I don’t know if this is unique to Boston because of the qualifying times, but what a great experience just the same.

We arrive at the stop for the convention center and step out into a sea of red bags, Boston Marathon gear, and excited chatter.  I’m no trekkie, but I suddenly felt what must be a common feeling of star trek fans at a convention – my bretheren.  Throw out all the geek, dork, and nerd comments you would like, I couldn’t agree more.  Somehow, and I’m sure it is a tribal human feeling, I suddenly felt like I was among my kin folk.  There were people who understood that running through a driving snow and wind is something you just do.  Don’t ask why, you just do.  I didn’t have to explain it, for most of these people had the same odd stares from drivers that I had received over the last couple months of training.  Never in my life did I think I would welcome a comparison to a trekkie, but it does seem fitting.

I made my way into the convention center and picked up my race packet and number.  I immediately decided that I wanted to get my number from the first box next year (yes, I already had designs on a return visit).  The first disappointment since getting lost came when I went to get my Red Bag of honor and technical shirt emblazoned with “Boston Marathon 2008″ on it – all they had left were large and extra-large.  Hundreds of Large and Extra-large shirts, but no small or medium.  No I may be wrong, but I’m thinking if I placed the order for shirts at the Boston Marathon I would avoid the “big dog” variety.  I mean, how many people can train and qualify for Boston and still require and Extra-Large?  I’m not trying to make a statement about fat, skinny, and etc.  I am merely making the observation that most of the runners I saw were as scrawny as I am.  There were a few who needed the bigger shirts, but I think it would have been safe to cut back on the large and order a few extra mediums.  I’m just sayin’…

The health and fitness expo. was well worth the tour.  I’m glad I am so broke I couldn’t afford to buy anything because I would have spent way more then I should have if I started the spending.  The good folks at Addidas had a computerized system in place that looked at the pressure distribution on your foot during your run.  Additionally they analyzed your stride and running style to give a precise read out of the type of shoe that would best fit.  I put on two different types of shoes based on this read out and it felt like a glove on my foot while running.  I kid you not, this was the single best running shoe I had ever put on simply because it fit my running form.  I highly recommend having this done.  As soon as I have some money I am getting the Addidas “Boston” or “Supernova.”

We toured some of the other vendors, saw some of the latest technology, and generally enjoyed the envrionment.  I’m not much of a clothes shopper, so far as I’m concerned pants are pants – let’s not spend a lot of time here.  I did think the Gatorade presentation where they measured the exact amount of electrolytes a person might sweat out was pretty neat.  They are going to get to the point where they will be able to tailor a sports drink to perfectly rehydrate and balance your electrolytes lost based on your unique needs.  Now that is cool.  The elite runners already have a special concotion that I suspect is exactly this, or some form of steroid (kidding).

After an hour and a half it was time to head out and carb load.  Off to the North End – some of the best Italian cuisine this side of Rome.  The place was packed, an absolute madhouse.  We arrived at 6:30pm, fairly early by most standards and looked for anyplace that didn’t have an 1 and 1/2 wait.  I guess that these places ordinarily don’t ask for reservations and tell you to just come down, except, as it turns out, on Marathon Monday.  If you don’t have a reservation – fuggedaboutit.  We did luck out and made our way into a place with only a 45-minute wait.  By 7pm anyone else coming down had a 2-hour wait or was ordering Domino’s.  Recommendation – on Sunday before the race make reservations or arrive early.  I had the best tasting Lasagna I can recall.  It was absolutely great.  Salad was good, bread fantastic – all in all a great dining experience.  We left and the street was absolutely packed.  One fool actually tried to drive through this area.  I would absolutely lose my mind if I was in a car driving on through the North End on that night.  In fact, I think I would leave my car at home for just about any trip to Boston at any point if possible.  This is a city planned in the 1800’s – cars were not really considered then.  Even with the big dig it is a nightmare to navigate Boston in a car.  Get a pass and take the T.

Speaking of the T, traveled back to Joan’s apartment and immediately was englufed with more runners traveling back and forth.  However, the trip back had little chatter about the race because there was someone highly intoxicated rappin’ as though he was at a concert.  High comedy to watch a bunch of people come onto the T while this guy belted out lyrics chastising the world in general.  Aside from the comedy, the guy was pretty good.  Nice rhythm, cool lyrics, and good tone – from one dork’s perspective.  He got off the stop before ours, well more accurately stumbled out the door nearly knocking this one woman over.  As soon as he got off there were a few silent nods like “that is going to be one hell of a hang over.”

Made it back to Joans and got ready for bed.  I tried to use my cheat sleep method and took some Tylenol PM.  It was like dumping a bucket of water on a barn fire of nerves.  It made no difference.  I tossed and turned all night – I don’t know why I even tried.  I knew I was going to be up.  Fortunately the race does not depend on quality sleep the night before, but the months and months before.  I gave up and stared at the ceiling all night while Christina drifted in and out of sleep as well – 5 am could not come soon enough (for once).

Lots to say, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to put it all in a post right now.  A few highlights with more to come from one runners perspective

1. Somewhere between 1/2 million and million cheering people along the way and two stood out
     18.5 miles: My mom – it is the voice that you hear no matter what (I think).  As soon as I heard it I turned to see my mom and dad cheering wildly and couldn’t help but get a huge smile.  My dad took off (bad knee and all) to run along side for a few strides and hand me gummy bears.  A memory I will have forever.  Only a few moments, but just awesome (the best I can do to describe right now).
    19.1 miles: “Daddy!”  “Daddy!” (Savannah) – my dad had told me Christina, the kids, and Aunt Joanie were a half mile ahead, so I started the search.  When I heard Savannah I turned to see them jumping up and down wildly – I was indescriably touched.  I immediately realized the joy they all had in seeing me, and if it was even half the thrill I had in seeing them then how awesome.  I wanted to turn around and just jump up and down with them, but I would have been plowed over on this narrow part of the road.  All I could do by that point was yell ”I love you,” pump a fist and say “race you to Boston.”  One other thought – I know the moments where I can be a “hero” to my children will become increasingly fleeting, but for this moment I was the fastest (bestest) runner in all of Boston.  I will never, ever, ever forget that look.  Between that and the smile all on Christina’s face as she implored me to “keep going baby” or Joanie pumping her fist while she “vicariously” ran Boston I can say without hesitation that made all the winter miles well worth it.  The whole moment was magical.

Mile 15, coming into Newton on a great pace and suddenly feeling an overwhelming warmth on my face.  The sun was out all day, but this was different.  So I looked up into the sky and said a quick prayer of gratitude – HE was with me, no doubt

Other highlights to spend sometime on at some point-

Crossing the timing belts every 5K and knowing that people who mean a lot to me were watching via the web, then getting phone calls on the way home confirming it (plus a bunch of emails).  There were three things that carried me the last 4 miles (the most difficult).  The most important was knowing that the timing belts meant a message to anyone watching – you are inspiring me right now, thank you.  Between that, the crowds, and stubborness it kept the feet moving.

The little girl who handed me an orange and when I dropped it in the pass off yelled “Mr. you dropped the orange” with such urgency that it was clear I wasn’t going to finish the run without it.  I turned around and saw her coming with another orange slice so I headed back and said “thank you – now I’ll be able to make it the rest of the way”  She looked so proud like “yep saved another.”  Having given this run to God I’m certain that there is a reason I had plenty of space to slow and turn back for a second at this point.

Slapping hands with all the kids who lined up along the road, just to cool!

Running next to Lance Armstrong for somewhere between 3 and 7 miles (I didn’t know where exactly he was, but based on the crowd yelling “Lance” I knew he was close by.  Then I was running right next to him for a couple miles.

Watching the blind runner and his guide – that is trust.  Lining up in Hopkinton I had faith that I would finish the race, those runners had faith they could finish and TRUST that someone would keep them on their way.  Awesome.

The crowds, screaming till they lost their voices.  What a lift.

The volunteers handing out water and Gatorade frantically as thousands of runners dashed by

Heartbreak Hill – as a New Hampshire runner who runs on all hills I can honestly say “you call that a hill?”  Now, I will also say that the down hill running that pounds your Quads into submission is something that made me think about joining the cheering crowds more then once.

The finish line and the guy who ran off my right shoulder pushing me that last quarter mile

So much to tell, what a day

Last post before the marathon.  I’ll be going to church tomorrow morning then off to Boston to the health and fitness expo, packet pick up, and a little city touring tomorrow.  Some Italian cuisine with Aunt Joan and then it is 5 am wake up to run!

I almost can’t believe it is here, how could I possibly be excited to run 26.2 miles?  Here is what I know: by Monday night I will have at least two blisters, an upset stomach, pain in leg muscles I didn’t know exsisted, and fatigue profound enough to make a trip to the fridge seem daunting.  Yet, I can’t wait.  Why?  You just have to do it to understand.  I could try to explain, but I’d suck at describing the feeling of finishing a marathon.  I’ll take sometime Monday to describe the marathon when I get home, but I simply am thrilled that it is so close.

I went for my final “stretch my legs” run today (4.25 miles).  When you go from running 63 miles to 50 miles to 40 miles per week in a typical taper everything feels good.  So long as I bring God on the run, take it easy at the beginning, feel the energy of the crowd, give thanks for the support to get there, and freaking enjoy it everthing will be a check mark on the things to do before I die list.

I just want to know if I can borrow the outfits for Monday

Back about a thousand years ago (slight exaggeration) when I was stationed in Kunsan AFB, Korea we would keep track of how long we had left before returning home to our family, friends, significant other, and etc.  A significant milestone was 99 days and becoming a “double digit midget.”  You learn this within the first day or two of arrival.  Anyone, regardless of rank, job, or title that was a double digit midget was respected and/or envied.

A little digression here.  I remember being concerned that out persevoration with counting days and going home would be perceived as insulting to the Korean firefighters we worked with.  Aside from being a beautiful country – and really it is, I would actually like to go back and visit some of the places I was to young and dumb to appreciate, the Koreans were always gracious host.  So one day I was talking with the Mr Yi, the elder of the fellow firefighters, about how this was taken.  Mr Yi was the coolest guy, by the way.  He told me that if he were dropped in paradise away from family, friends, and all the things he knew he would long to go home as well.  That was what people counted down the days for.  As a 20-year-old I thought that was the case for the most part, but I think the days would have been a little shorter in paradise then they felt in Kunsan.  I mention this because I just got off the phone with my brother-in-law Matt who just returned from his second tour in Iraq.  He is a Lieutenant in the Marines that missed the birth of Anna, his firt child, and was in conditions far more challenging then what I ever experienced.  Both Matt and my sister Danielle sound so genuinely pleased to just be back together, and as a family, that I think we should all remember to be grateful and thankful for the sacrifice the troops make each day they track their return home date.  I think we sometimes forget the incredible challenges that the Armed services face with each new deployment, I know I do.

So why do I mention all of this?  Perspective.  I remember the start of my training for the Boston marathon and thinking that I would know how close it was when I could pull the 10-day weather report up and see the actual day.  Yesterday, I did just that.  I almost got lost in the feeling of “it” almost being here.  I went for a 10 mile run today and thought about how it would be the last double digit miles until the marathon according to my taper schedule.  Some double digits are huge accomplishments, some are just worthy of a nice pause.

What would a post be without a quick Boston Marathon prep post.  Things are going well, but they should at this point.  It is tape time and if there are still struggles it may be to late to change now.  I’ll head out for

8 miles Sat
10 miles Sun
off Mon
6 miles/tempo Tues
8 miles Wed
4 miles Thurs
5 miles/strides x 2 Fri
4 miles Sat
2 miles Sun

As long as I don’t end up hurting myself all will be well.  This week has been so busy I’m not sure that I have had time to get stressed or excited. 

I found something that really struck me while doing classwork for my psychopharmacology course.  We had to think about depression and anxiety and why it is on the rise in our country.  There are a lot of reasons people identified that have a pretty strong foundation, but one person raised a point that I hadn’t considered before – television.  She point out that children start watching TV before they can really separate reality and entertainment.  So I went to a website suggested by the TV ratings people at Nielsen and these are the top 10 telling statistics (in my opinion) of many interesting numbers:

1. Number of hours per day that TV is on in an average U.S. home: 6 hours, 47 minutes (probably not a lot of social interaction during some of this time)
2. Percentage of Americans that regularly watch television while eating dinner: 66 (Definetly not a lot of conversation at a time when so much can be shared)
3. Approximate number of studies examining TV’s effects on children: 4,000 (Most come to the same conclusion)
4. Number of minutes per week that parents spend in meaningful conversation with their children: 3.5 (I’m not sure how they quantified “meaningful” that seems to be fairly subjective to me)
5. Number of minutes per week that the average child watches television: 1,680 (no matter what definition of meaningful we use, I’m doubting it matches this number)
6. Percentage of 4-6 year-olds who, when asked to choose between watching TV and spending time with their fathers, preferred television: 54 (what can you say)
7. Number of murders seen on TV by the time an average child finishes elementary school: 8,000 (how many of those murders seemed real at the time)
8. Number of violent acts seen on TV by age 18: 200,000 (that’s healthy)
9. Number of 30-second TV commercials seen in a year by an average child: 20,000 (we all know that advertiser are out for the good of our children, making sure to deliver helpful information on becoming productive members of society)
10. Rank of food products/fast-food restaurants among TV advertisements to kids: 1 (nevermind – maybe there is something to this epidemic of type II diabetes in kids)

After reading some of these and others at: http://www.csun.edu/~vceed002/health/docs/tv&health.html I thought that maybe she had a point.  I don’t think depression and anxiety can all be explained by TV, but I don’t think it helps.

I’ve started the taper with just under two weeks to go.  Just no injuries now and keeping the cardiovascular tuned up.  I’ve read the books, but I’m not sure what the best taper plan is – this seems like something that becomes a personal method improved with experience.  Well see how this one goes.

Good thing work, life , and everything else keeps the anticipation at bay.  There is no time to dwell on it.

I’ll only spend a minute on this, but I’m gettinig freaking geeked about the run.  I received my Runner’s world magazine and there were four pages dedicated to the Boston Marathon.  Talk radio in Boston and Nashua are already talking about preparations and the “pagentry” of the run.  ESPN even mentioned the coming run.  I can honestly say I have never participated in any event that was mentioned on ESPN – that is kind of cool. 

I’ll be going down Sunday with Christina to stay with my Aunt – a Boston Marathon vet – and getting the grand tour of the pre-race festivities.  Aunt Joanie has a Italian restraunt picked out that is “just fabulous.”  No wonder everyone talks about taking it easy to start the race, I find myself thinking about going a busting out a few miles at 5 minute clips at least twice a day – and I’m not even there.  Man, I can’t wait to just be a part of this.

There – got that out.  On a completely different note, I had one of the most interesting conversations yesterday that I have had in a while.  It all started when I was talking with a group of colleagues about how Savannah had yelled out from behind a closed bathroom door “Dad, how much fiber was in those tortilla shells anyway?”  I immediately told her that I didn’t want to have this conversation while she was in the bathroom, or for that matter, ever under these circumstances.  As I told the story I was struck by the diverstity of reactions from colleagues.  About 1/3 were disgusted in even hearing the story, a 1/3 laughed and nodded there head in agreement, and a 1/3 couldn’t believe that I didn’t carry the conversation to its hideous end (no pun intended). 

One colleague talked about the survey conducted that asked Americans if they enjoyed a bowel movement.  Similarly, many couldn’t even answer the question or answered no quickly and then left embarrassed despite the physiologic reality that a bowel movement is scientifically known as a comforting feeling for reasons that are obvious.  The incredible diversity in reactions to this story immediately struck me as curious.  In 1st through 3rd grade I probably told as many fart jokes as the next guy, but somewhere along the way this no longer seemed appropriate.  Yet, this notion may be an entirely familial reality.  Although I’m not exactly sure I want a response, I wonder how many different responses there are to the way I handled Savannah’s comment?  Heck, I bet there are some people who couldn’t read the entirety of this post, and others who are at this point singing the diarrhea song and laughing at my discomfort.  I find this interesting…