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| The herring run. |
It took all morning to drive then walk to the "athlete village," then continue walking from one Port-a-Potty line to the next. I took my first opportunity all morning to sit down in my starting corral at the Boston Marathon. The sunlight caught every trunk of the forest of legs from the same angle, but cast a patchy canopy of synthetic polyester. I realized that tripping was a major hazard today.
The gun went off, and after a delay for the preceding corrals, the mass began to move. The course was free of spectators for a few minutes after the start line. I heard sound of the 1,000 people in my corral running in identically paced unison, except for the randomness of our feet. It was quieter than sitting in the start corral, listening to all the ambient and amplified voices. I ran in the midst of a sifted stampede.
Big city marathons apparently have aid stations every mile, 1 on each side and 5-7 folding tables long. My feet stuck to the asphalt if I got too close to the Gatorade tables and slipped once people got thirsty enough that the asphalt became saturated in cups. I worried about the wasted cups and a few nearly-trampled runners.
I kept water on my head and monitored my ligaments and threshold. I love marathon pace because it starts out smooth and comfortable, but eventually crosses a line of being hard to maintain. I leaned over the line when the fronts of my ankles briefly tightened, and strained against it when by the end all I could focus on was the endlessness of spectators screaming. 26.2 miles is a lot of screaming. I finished surprised by a decently evenly-paced race, and it was still loud, but at least my blood wasn't singing.
It took a long slow walk and being shoo-ed out of the half mile finish chute by blessed cops until I could lay down. That street normally crawls with traffic but I finally did not worry about getting trampled. After a concert, your ears still throb. My calves pulsed as if a dozen electro-stim pads had been wired up. They still heard the roar of the crowd, Wellesley, Johnny, and random people rising from all angles.
I survived a big city marathon. I expected to feel overwhelmed by the crowds, but it was just my senses.
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| Mark, Cheryl, me, Johnny, and the bird that literally just left the frame<3 Thank you for your hospitality! |
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| I was so lucky to meet Johnny's client Dodge just after he managed to ID me struggling through the LONG finish chute. |
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| Managing a "straighten!" for one of the Boston Marathon photogs, but I also just love Edith's face photobombing 2 o' clock. |
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| Chrissy, me, n Edie <3 The best girls to run with. |
