I ran my 3rd Boston Marathon in what I thought would be an ideal race. My training went well. I was not tired nor fatigued. The temps were ideal though not perfect. As I ran this race, all I could think about were my splits — as noted below.
However, after hours of thinking about what transpired at the finish line yesterday, my thoughts turned into anger regarding the bombings. The picture above was no more than 75 yards from one of the explosions. Janette was about 100 yards from the explosion, though we had left by that point; I had crossed the line and was already cleaned up and at the airport when I heard of the attack. I suspect this was the work of amateur domestic terrorist. Maybe right-wing members of some anti-government group. It is very strange in that all I could do after the race was reflect on how poorly I ran. I wanted to go out slow before dropping the pace — which I did, but I just did not have the strength to wrestle my way through the last set of (Newton) hills. I suspect the cramps were indicative of my training; it is very hard to simulate Boston when you live in Houston. But, in the end, no one will really care about how they performed in this race… not even the winners. The 117th Boston Marathon will be placed in the same category as the 1996 Olympic Village bombing that transpired in Atlanta.
Below are my splits at each mile marker. My goal was to start slow then drop the pace. In the end, I could not negotiate with the demands of a course that operates like one big roller coaster ride. And once you survive the first part, you have to deal with the Newton Hills. By then, if you are me anyway, your legs are trashed.
21. 8:16 My first set of leg cramps.
22. 8:01 I was still recovering from cramps.
23. 7:54 I thought I had a gear left in me but I was done.
In the end, I was frustrated with my performance. A 3:14 does not cut it, especially when one looks at my other times. I will regroup and bounce back for my next shorter distance race sometime this summer. Until then, I will reflect on my fortunes and the shameful event in Boston. I do appreciate the number texts, calls, and notes from everyone.
Like so many people, the above image is now planted in my head. I hate cowards!