Blueberry Beer, Getting Lost on the T, and Kara Goucher: The Boston Photo/Video Experience

I swore this year that I was going to lay low and be a bit of a hermit for the Boston weekend beyond the race. That went out the window two steps off the airplane. There truly is not enough time in each day-even laying low and not overscheduling like mad-to see and do everything. This is a little bit, though, of what I got to see and do over the weekend.

I'm going to go back to our friend the Barefoot Running Caveman. I was well-behaved and did not smack caveman bum on the race course, even though the mischevious prankster in me momentarily thought it would be funny. This was good, because if I'd been Captain Inappropriate, I probably couldn't have asked him the burning question everyone had when I was walking next to him in the finish chute, and saw him texting something on a phone. Um....the other men around me clearly had the same question, but weren't going to ask. This was clearly a job for a woman.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" I said to The Caveman. "Where, um, did you keep that thing (pointing to the phone)?" This loincloth was about the size of a napkin. Seriously. I think it was fashioned out of a brown dish towel. He couldn't have kept the phone under that. The Caveman, who turned out to be a software engineer from California named Glen Raines, turned and showed me his "leaf" arm decoration/armband, and lifted it to show the iPod armband underneath. Brilliant, sir! A regular Renaissance caveman...minimalist runner who still stays connected to civilization.

We chatted for a minute about his barefoot running, and how many of his former chronic running injuries went away when he made the switch from shod to barefoot running. I mentioned that I hadn't "gone all the way," but race in minimalist shoes, started making adaptations to POSE running last fall, and sometimes do barefoot drills at our city's track and on the infield. Turned out to be a very nice guy, that caveman. Watch the following video clip from the finish area, and you will see him walk past at about the :35 mark.

Besides the rest of us regular folk who raced the Boston Marathon, there were the guys and girls who are so fast, they get paid to do what we all love to do. On this day, (and...clearly, these photos were not taken by me-my friend Lynn gave F a VIP pass she had for the finish line stands) some epic races were thrown down by the best elites in our sport. Geoffrey Mutai of Kenya ran what cannot be officially recognized as a world record, but was the fastest recorded marathon time ever at 2:03:02.

American Ryan Hall-whom I've never been a fan of for a variety of reasons (the prosthelytizing...the excuses for bad races that have nothing to do with his strange training and behavior with regard to coaching/lack of coaching) -managed to hang on somewhat to the blistering pace, running a personal best at 2:04:58 and finishing 4th overall. I liked seeing pictures and video later that looked like he had truly pushed himself to the limit and was spent by the time he came in. In the end, I do ultimately root for him to have that big breakthrough and win some major races. Maybe this will be the start of getting there.

The race for the women's title wound up being a nailbiter right to the finish. Before the race, everyone was talking Kara Kara Kara (Goucher) as the great American hope. Desi Davila, a true workhorse athlete with great consistency coming into the race, was kind of the "and also" girl in the mainstream media. Well, the race boiled down to a sprint down Boylston Street between Desi Davila, who briefly took the lead halfway down the stretch, and Caroline Kilel of Kenya, who managed to outkick her by two seconds, collapsing on the ground after the finish after a 2:22:36 finish. I love this shot-kind of sums up the best of running-and maybe also why some of my closest friends, especially women, also happen to be runners. Fight and compete hard on the course, show respect for one another and good sportsmanship off the course.

And I guess that brings us to Kara. Nick, be happy. I'm posting pictures of your special lady friend again. She finished fifth at Boston, which isn't where she wanted to be, but that's still pretty consistent. And, dayum. I never looked like her six months after giving birth. She's come back strong in such a short time since becoming a mom for the first time-no small feat when you're trying to have some balance but maintain your professional livelihood. I remember my own first-time-mom days, and adjusting to the lack of sleep/being on someone else's timetable, and give her huge kudos on this race performance.

Besides the race itself, there was a lot of merrymaking throughout the weekend. After nearly seven hours on airplanes on Saturday, I was actually quite happy to get on the T and head out to Beerworks, a place where a lot of Boston runners have gathered the past several years to socialize in a laid-back fashion two days out from the race. They sell a blueberry beer there that literally has blueberries thrown on top-and I've tried it both years at the thing. This is one of the few pictures I actually wanted to pose for..my friend Richard (also from Colorado...he came over from Denver for the Canyonlands Half) was wearing his Honey Badger Don't Care shirt, and needed to have record of that. I'm not usually big on the internet memes, but the honey badger video just gets funnier to me every time. For the record, I do not make it a habit of double-fisting beers. Someone had gone for a second round, I was nursing my first beer, and drink #2 arrived before I could get through the first one.

After the Beerworks shindig, it was back on the T with Audra, Barb, and Kat, a few of the women with whom I've posted for several years now in the Women's BQ thread group in one of the RWOL training forums. It's pretty remarkable how well you get to know people that way-when we all met last year at Boston it was like everyone had known each other for years. Lots of training talk but plenty of non-running conversation too. I believe we've gone through every possible major life change amongst the group members over the past few years-marriage, divorce, childbirth, death in the family, job loss (heck...one of the ladies in our group defended her PhD dissertation last weekend, and then ran Boston Monday) you name it. Everyone always comes together to support one another during the hard times-which I think is pretty cool. It's also been fun to watch one another race and grow as runners, cheer the great races, and be understanding and empathetic to the ones that just didn't pan out.

Anyway-we took the scenic route home. We wound up at the end of the line...literally. Four intelligent women saying "wait...what just happened?" when the PA came on announcing that we were at the last stop and everyone needed to get off. Eventually we did find our way back and got on the inbound train-I'm not sure how we all missed the fact that we were headed in the wrong direction to begin with, though.

There's much more I could share, but I think there will just be a link to my full album from Boston in a future blog. Besides the Beerworks party, there was a nice Sunday brunch with the BQ ladies, randomly happening upon the BAA Scholastic Mile races (the best high school milers in the greater Boston area competed), and other assorted tomfoolery and hijinks. The three days just flew by, but the most was made of the time.

Now I'm back home, and getting back into the swing of work, daily life, and running. I had my first early morning headlamp run in a month with my most regular of early morning running partners, Laura, this morning. It was fantastic-just a light drizzle, birds chirping, and a little bit of moonlight.

I knew I couldn't run on that ankle for the first few weeks after the injury, but I still missed the quiet of the o-dark-thirty run, and my friend, a lot. She greeted me with the same "I missed you!" when I showed up at our designated meeting spot. It's definitely true that when you're running with someone else, you talk about everything BUT running, and it was high time that we catch up. I always joke that people are more comfortable saying things while running in the dark that they wouldn't say elsewhere, but it's sort of true. Good news, bad news, bouncing ideas and thoughts about major life decisions...it all comes out then. Running feels less labored in the dark, too. I don't know why. There's just little to no thought about pace, and I sometimes the brisk, relaxed pace comes easily that way. I'd expected that waking up at 4:15 this morning would be tough but I seemed to have "Can't Sleep...too excited!"-itis. Don't know if I'll be able to pull this again for our next early run Wednesday, but it feels good to have that first easy run, 5 miles on the riverfront trail, out of the way. It's all good for today.

"So Simple, Even A Caveman Can Do It"-The 115th Boston Marathon Race Report, Part Two

I know the above to be true, because I saw it go down. More on the caveman later.

When I last left off, it was all puppydogs and hummingbirds and good vibes as wave two began at the 115th Boston Marathon. I really had no way of predicting, though, what my body might do today. I had not run a true long run since the 17-miler I did on March 12th, the week before the Canyonlands Half. I wondered if I'd really been able to hold on to my fitness, or if I was somewhat deconditioned and looking at glycogen depletion some time later in the race no matter how conservatively I paced. With that in mind, I had NO pressure to run faster if I felt good coming out of Hopkinton.

The Boston course has a downhill start, and is notorious for sucking people out fast only to rear its ugly head at those who started too quickly by the time they hit the Newton Hills. Right away, I could tell that my lungs and breathing didn't just feel okay, they really felt terrific. This was a far cry from Canyonlands in March, and also better than I felt at Boston last year. With the three wave start, I also had far more room to move than a year ago when I nearly took out another runner with a slight shift to the left. Throw in the fact that I'd vowed to run with my head, and I felt fantastic through the first four miles. I was checking my Garmin regularly, but not to make sure I was going fast enough. I wanted to make sure I didn't drift too fast down the hills because I felt good. The legs were very fresh. Thinking to the Missoula Marathon last July when I felt rotten for the first four miles, this was encouraging.

Mile 1: 8:08

Mile 2: 8:09

Mile 3: 8:15

Mile 4: 8:13

It was a true relief to not have feelings of impending disaster from the get-go. Yeah, yeah....you can't tell anything about how the race will play out this early if you're feeling good. Still, it was better than the alternative. Settling into a groove and feeling decent, I was really able to focus outward to enjoy the race atmosphere. There is fan support from beginning to end on the course, but the nice weather this year may have played a part in the crowds being a bit larger and louder. And drunker. Man, these people come out and start drinking EARLY. There were lots of little kids on the course, and when I could get to them easily I'd slap 'em five.

It was amazing to look at the other runners, too, and be in awe of the reasons that some people were running, and how far many had come to be at the Boston Marathon. People ran with the names of relatives and friends for inspiration. Many had fundraised large amounts of money for causes near and dear. There was one guy with a "Thank You Boston EMS and (Hospital Name)-Revived and Recovered" on his shirt. I knew there was someone from Nebraska near me for most of the race because I frequently heard "GOOOO NEBRASKA!" or "NEBRASKA....I'VE HEARD OF THAT PLACE!" There were runners wearing singlets and hats from running clubs all over the U.S. and world, and it was fun to read them all. I observed, or heard fans shouting for runners from (and this will be a partial list...just what I remember) Canada (which reminded me of my Canadian friends and former neighbors Allen and Freda), Brazil, Argentina, Chile, Japan, England, France, Germany, and Scotland (that girl had a kilt and "A Skosh for Scotland-Glasgow to Boston" shirt). Then there were the senior statesmen and women of our sport. Prior age group finishers from the 60+ and 70+ age groups ran with special back bibs that noted their age and status. I saw several women with "F60" on their backs...usually ahead of me and pulling away.

The above was early on in the race. Just a beautiful day out there.

As I moved on along the course, things still felt good. I had a slight but expected slowdown as the ground leveled out. I think this was around the point on the course when I got my first comments on my-er-"colorful" ensemble. I chatted with other runners here and there, which was good...I could do it without feeling like I needed to stop and keel over.

Mile 5: 8:23

Mile 6: 8:17

Mile 7: 8:09

Mile 8: 8:24

Mile 9: 8:18

Mile 10: 8:16

As the scholar and philosophist Madonna once sang, "Don't Stop Me Now, Don't Need To Catch My Breath, I Can Go On and On and On." (She was talking about......dancing. Yeah. Let's just pretend that's what it's about. And that applies to running too.) The good thing is that I was really feeling this today. So far, the ankle was thankfully quiet. I knew that could change in a second, though, and the thought of a DNF or doing something that would put me out of running long-term kept me in check.

In the next few miles, I spotted the Hoyts. They've been running together for years-in fact, my Dad remembers them at races in the DC-area way back in his running days in the 1980's. I spotted them further up in the Newton Hills last year, but Dick Hoyt recently had back surgery and I think it was a lot tougher for him this year. I love that he's still out there, and getting it done, pushing his son, no B.S. Besides the Hoyts, I saw a number of athletes from the Achilles Track Club, whose disabled members compete in mainstream athletic events. Seriously...a runner who could not find inspiration within themselves or surrounding them on the course this Patriots Day would be more or less hopeless.

Mile 11: 8:18

Mile 12: 8:11

Mile 13: 8:19

Almost halfway through, and I still felt good. Rather than feeling de-conditioned, my legs felt fresh and springy. My breathing still felt good, and it wasn't just the sea level factor. Though my pacing was more conservative this year versus Boston 2010, I felt outstanding for this point in the marathon.

Now, things started to get interesting. I heard the crowd going nuts for someone, and turned to look. It's this dude, running barefoot, wearing a long black caveman wig, and wearing nothing but a loincloth and leaf armband. This loincloth was very, very, VERY small. I didn't want to turn and stare but I could see...cheek. I did not crane my neck to get a front view for fear of things I might not be able to unsee. The crowd loved him and he was eating it up.

We were approaching the famed Wellesley College scream tunnel, which meant that little iPod would come out again to record the noise. This is a famous spot on the course where the women of Wellesley College line the course, scream their heads off, and hold signs that say "Kiss Me, I'm _____." Seriously, take your pick. There's every fill-in-the-blank option on a sign there somewhere.

The first of the walking wounded were beginning to appear now. Runners were starting to pull off to the side to stretch, shake out something that hurt, or otherwise work on something that was bugging them. As I've said, sometimes it's your day, and sometimes it's not. Though it had nothing to do with going for a PR or even running faster than my only other Boston run, this was clearly my day. The ankle was still silent. I had energy. Nothing felt icky. And...I was thoroughly enjoying the sights and sounds around me.

Mile 14: 8:23

Mile 15: 8:36

Mile 16: 8:28

Now, we were approaching the famed Newton Hills. There's a lot of talk about these hills from runners regarding their difficulty and size. My take? It's not the size of the hills, but where they fall on the course, and how the runner has paced prior to arriving at said hills. I'll be the first to say that I've got an advantage living where I do. My neighborhood has a name that denotes the hilliness factor, and I've got hilly trail access immediately in front of and behind my home, with the major trail running and mountain biking area in our city about three minutes away. I didn't feel great last year, but the hills still felt decent when I found them. This year, they were really not bad at all. I slowed down just about as much as I expected here, but not any more than that. I could hear my breathing relative to others around me who were panting and overexerting themselves, and mine was quite calm by comparison. I was abiding by the ankle, though, and just enjoyed the fact that I was still on BQ pace and feeling good.

Mile 17: 8:50

Mile 18:8:50

Mile 19: 8:28

Mile 20: 8:38

Mile 21: 9:12

Well, wow. I was now twenty miles in, and no blowup yet. The ankle? Maybe it was whispering a little, but not more than anything else in my body at this point. YES-I was going to finish today. I knew it now. If the ankle freaked out on me, I knew I could still walk it in and log an official finish time. To quote Kevin Smith's directorial debut, "Clerks"-"I'm not even supposed to be here today!" There were people dropping like flies right and left by now. It was warmer, and I'd been meticulous about my fueling strategy, alternating water and electrolyte beverages, stopping at all aid stations, and sucking down a 2x caffeine Gu Roctane every hour. All systems were go, no sign of cramping or stomach upset.

I was feeling fatigued yet invigorated to be so close to the finish, and gave my pace a little punch in the next mile. Felt decent, and I was a mile closer to being through this.

Mile 22: 8:19

Next mile, though, I could feel a little bit of leg heaviness. Nothing that felt like total glycogen depletion, or "hitting the wall" as it's called...just some general fatigue and heaviness. Not sure if this was me dialing back on purpose or just natural attrition at this point in the race, but the next mile was a little slower. Still, I remember how I felt at this point last year, and I was in far better shape. And another mile closer to finishing the race I wasn't supposed to be running until a few days ago.

Mile 23: 8:27

Mile 24: 8:20

Really? A little negative split? I was absolutely dying at this point last year, but focused on a strong finish. This is one of the least scenic parts of the course, and it was obvious to me last year. This year, though, I felt like I was just gathering steam late in the game now that I knew the wheels were not going to come off, and the ankle would tolerate a little bit of a late-race push. Some guy hollered out from the sidelines that he dug my fluorescent orange shoes (I'm not flashy on purpose...just love to race in Newtons, and they don't make anything that just blends into the scenery) and I slapped him a high-five as I ran past.

Eventually, I got my first view of the famed Citgo sign, but knew it was still quite a ways away. I felt REALLY strong...and very emotional when I felt this strength rising in me. This has been a challenging year beyond the injury, but nothing negative had been in my mind at all in this race. I thought about how privileged I was...both physically, and culturally, to be able to run the Boston Marathon. I knew I was lucky, and wanted to appreciate this moment for all it was worth. This is where I saw the woman running in the shirt with "Thank You Dad, Title IX and KV Switzer" on the back. I ran up to her to say that I loved her shirt, and she thanked me with a warm smile.

Mile 25: 8:12

Another negative split, and now it all boiled down to the final 1.2 miles. My running math is terrible so I just wanted to hammer out this last mile like I'd never run a marathon again, and be spent at the finish. I had a huge smile on my face, listening to the crowd and picking it up as much as I could. And then...who is that? It's the Barefoot Running Caveman! We were coming around the right turn together onto Hereford, and he was in full Caveman crowd-pleasing mode. In the back of my head, this evil little impulse came over me to run up behind him and smack his Caveman butt, thus upstaging the caveman show and probably creating a good photo-op for a few people. I reigned myself in, though...after all, that's probably akin to sexual harrassment. So, I just kept going, as hard and fast as I could.

Mile 26: 8:04 (my fastest mile of the race!)

After that, there was no more video, pictures, butt-slapping thoughts, or anything else. It was just me, coming down Boylston Street, overcome with positive emotion. I was smiling like a freak all the way down to the finish, not wishing it all to be over but feeling SO fortunate to have been here at all to race. Don't get me wrong...spectating would have been great, but there was nothing like having this racing experience today.

Garmin's just approximate, and with a crowded race and less than perfect tangent running late in the game, this last split is for .53 miles.

.53: 3:31, or a 6:49 pace.

Finish time at the 115th Boston Marathon by Garmin: 3:41:38. Official race time: 3:41:36. This was good for 2958 by gender, 2130 by division (age group), and 10,976 overall. I was also part of a record-breaking year for female finishers a mere 44 years after Kathrine Switzer broke the gender barrier at this race, with over 10,000 female finishers at the 115th Boston Marathon. Progress, baby.

So, there you have it. Not "How To Run The Boston Marathon Without Even Trying," but "How To Run Boston With The Best That You've Got That Day, And Long Term Running In Mind." I believe that I did this. Half of my friends and medical establishment were telling me not to do it, and the other half were telling me to proceed with caution. I had two weeks of absolutely no physical activity after that spill at the 24 Hours of Moab, and then just two short test runs, two short bike rides and an easy afternoon of cross country skiing in the last ten days prior to the race. It was confusing, and required the most careful consideration out of anything I've done since starting to train seriously four years ago. I'm so glad I took it on, though. Let's just say that Bryan, my physical therapist, won't be craving a cannoli anytime soon. Half a dozen from Mike's Pastry hardly seems adequate for bringing me from spectator to full-fledged Boston running, but it was the best thing I could come up with.

That's all, folks. I'll do one more with some fun pictures and video that involve people a lot faster than my mid-packed behind, and tell the story of the burning question I asked the Barefoot Running Caveman in the finish area.

"Thank You Dad, Title IX, and KV Switzer"-The 115th Boston Marathon Race Report, Part I

I spotted the above on the back of a woman's shirt about 24 miles into the 115th Boston Marathon, and I couldn't think of a more fitting title for this race report.

Boston Marathon weekend came after that flurry of will-I-or-won't-I-race excitement, and I felt relatively unprepared to make the trip. There are certain things I tend to plan out well in advance, like ordering my S-Caps combo pack (salt and electrolyte capsules to be taken before the race, recovery packs that are basically good multivitamins to aid with recovery post-race). I typically buy new compression socks and new racing shoes for the big races, and didn't have those either. Then, of course, there is the totally non-essential purchase that's still a big part of building mojo for the big race-the new running skirt for race day. Yeah, I know. Sounds silly, but when running a goal race, it's a part of getting that game face on. I figured I'd just hit up REI for some energy gels, scare up some electrolyte capsule sample packets from another race, and take my chances on finding the other things at the expo.

My Dad arrived to town on Thursday to hang out with the kids for the long weekend, and my packing went into high gear while trying to work, along with all the other usual stuff I've got going. I was glad that my Dad would be here with the kids-it meant my mind would be at ease during the trip. Give the man a list of who needs to go where, at what time, and with whom, and I know they'll get there one way or another. My Dad is actually one of my running influences-he ran the Marine Corps Marathon six times, and countless other road races in the DC-area when I was growing up. I distinctly remember being at MCM to spectate one time as a kid, and thinking in the back of my head that "this is cool. I wanna do this some day." He's kind of a Yoda when it comes to running advice-just little bits and pieces on occasion, but always something pretty relevant or useful.

After spending six plus hours on airplanes on Saturday, I finally arrived at Logan International Airport in Boston, Massachusetts. People were trickling in from all terminals sporting marathon jackets from the current year as well as years gone by. It was cool to see so many different people coming in from all over, getting ready to do the same thing.

The rest of the weekend was spent getting together with different groups of people from the RWOL forums,

(the second is a re-creation of last year's inadvertent photobomb by Dave of the "BQ Babes," or the Women's BQ Thread Group from one of the training forums. He got tagged in a gazillion pictures as "Random Dude.")



hitting up the expo to get my bib and race packet,

and doing some general wandering around. I visited the Running Skirts booth at the expo (my typical go-to skirt for big races), and found some stuff that was colorful and springy to celebrate race day. I also hit up the Kinesio Tape booth and grabbed a roll in K-State Purple to tape up my ankle on race day. This stuff is amazing-the tape is supportive but still flexible, and the roll came with pretty specific instructions for how to tape different injuries or parts of the body.

I also sat in on one of the race seminars featuring the "Legends of Running" panel. This session really deserves its own blog post, with the likes of Dick Beardsley



(who battled with Alberto Salazar in the "Duel In the Sun" at the 1982 Boston Marathon, on the right next to Dave McGillivray, race director of the Boston Marathon),

1968 Boston Marathon Winner and frequent Runner's World contributor Amby Burfoot (he's a tall red drink of water),

and one of the women who was instrumental in paving the way for those of us who came later, Kathrine Switzer.


Though most of us who do run know her story and have seen the iconic pictures of Jock Semple trying to pull her off the Boston course in 1967, I'd encourage everyone to read the full story and view those pictures here. The chain of events-from her decision to officially enter the race by her initials "K.V. Switzer," the press truck being right in front of her on the course, and her ultimate decision to keep running and finish after the on-course altercation played a huge part in disproving misconceptions about what women were capable of as runners, and left an indelible mark on Boston Marathon History.

With race number and all gear items in hand, I was relieved to be good to go with everything. Things seemed to be coming together. I attended a pre-race dinner with some other runners at Maggiano's Little Italy near my hotel, and then it was time to lay out the gear and get some shut-eye.

My pre-race night of sleep wound up being pretty good. I wasn't out for a long time, but the sleep I got was pretty deep, and not restless at all. That's perfect for me-I'm kind of "quality over quantity" in that department. I'd gotten the hotel restaurant to make me two large cream cheese bagels the night before, got my ankle taped up,

and noshed on one in the room before heading down to the lobby to meet Lynn for the walk over to the buses. When we hit the lines to board, they really were not bad at all. Imagine my surprise when we got in line, out of 27,000 people, to find two people I knew right in front of us. One was Neil, who organized the pre-race dinner I attended at the Missoula Marathon last summer, and the other was Dee, also from up that way, and the women's Masters winner at the Canyonlands Half last month. Further up, I saw some other familiar faces from the RWOL Boston forums. We all were on the same bus in a few minutes and I thought, man, small world. As we drove off, Lynn and I marveled at how huge the bus lines had become right after we had boarded.

The ride to Hopkinton is probably about an hour tops, but it really just flew by, along with the time spent in the Athlete Village (the grounds of the high school in Hopkinton). For those unfamiliar, the town of Hopkinton is NOT a big, urban area-it is a small New England town with narrow residential streets. Not exactly the kind of place you'd expect to be starting 27,000 runners, but the race was never this big in the beginning.

This year, to keep things less crowded, the BAA moved to three starting waves instead of two in an attempt to thin out the crowds in the early miles, and move things along in a more orderly fashion. I thought this was a good move, as my friend Miranda and I barely made our corral last year in trying to fight our way through the crowds. I had taken my large rubber band from Bryan, the physical therapist, out to the athlete's village, and did some exercises with it for awhile to get things loosened up. I also managed to get through the port-a-potty lines twice, though a third trip really would have been nice. We laughed but also cringed in a "that would suuuuck" way at the PA announcement that the Hopkinton police had a child of a runner who had sneaked onto a bus and made it out to the Athlete Village. Time really flew between that stuff, and just shooting the breeze with Lynn and the other folks I knew out there.

Before I knew it, the guy on the mic was calling for Wave Two runners (that would be me, and most of the ladies in our group) to start moving to the sweat trucks and start. I shed my warmup pants and jacket, stuck them in my gear bag, and handed it off at the appropriately numbered school bus. I just kept on a very old long sleeved shirt that would be my throwaway garment. The sun was out but it was pretty breezy. Soon, I was wandering down with the masses to the start. I couldn't help but grin-I knew there was a chance I might DNF in this race, I knew I had to go conservatively and not kill myself trying to PR, yet was giddy and happy just to be there at all. I was surrounded by fellow hard-working midpackers, mostly females around my age who are part of the current post-Title IX running boom, along with some older male runners. It was cool to be with the people who weren't naturally speedy, but who had trained to get fast enough to make those qualifying standards, sometimes with no time to spare.

I made sure the old Garmin watch was zeroed out and ready to go while waiting, but truth be told, I didn't plan to obsessively check my pace. I just knew that I would not let myself drift faster than an eight minute mile in those early downhill miles no matter how good I felt. Another year, and without the injury, I might be tempted to go balls to the wall, but I was content to stick with my plan. Being in the sixth corral, I couldn't really hear the start, but when the crowd started walking forward and I saw 10:21 on my watch, I knew it was time. The sun was out, but it was not too hot, and the wind had let up.

And then, we were off. Wave Two at the 115th Boston Marathon had officially started, and I was actually there participating, not standing on the sidelines back in Boston.

More tales from the race coming soon. They do include a barefoot caveman in a loincloth.