A shout of grace!
Monday, April 20 2015. Here it is! The wait is over!
While the weather for the preceding week had been bright and warm, the forecast for race day was ominous. We were promised rain, cold temperatures and a strong headwind. Often, if the forecast doesn't suit us, we criticize meteorologists. When we like the forecast, we think them very clever. This particular forecast turned out to be accurate in every way.
As we huddled from the wind in the athletes' village, the rain started. I had bought layers of street clothing in a thrift shop the day before in order to ward off hypothermia before the start of the race! As we moved towards the corrals, we slowly peeled off layer after layer and volunteers stuffed them into giant plastic bags so that they would all be back in thrift stores again! For some reason, for which no one has yet taken responsibility, the four of us ended up at the back of all 30 000 runners, with a lone police officer behind us! This would make our work even harder!
Off we went, in wind and rain, and I quickly decided that there was only one way to get through this challenge. Head down, teeth gritted, start to run and run as hard as possible for as long as possible. No thoughts of the finish line. Just survival!
One of my friends had a racing heart after a few kilometres and needed to stop to recover. Three of us were left. Imagine our joy when he showed up again at exactly the halfway mark, as we ran through the 'scream tunnel' at Wellesley College. After the halfway mark, two of us were feeling very strong and decided to run faster. I was not amongst them! Two of us again, and on we ran downhill and uphill, heavily dressed against the chill, fighting the wind and rain, and steeling ourselves against pain and fatigue and discouragement.
The Boston crowds were extraordinary on the day. Despite the inclement conditions, they came out in thousands and thronged both sides of the course, screaming their support. This level of community involvement makes Boston absolutely unique amongst races. A million people came out, in foul weather, to cheer on the runners. Their cheers were elixir to the sagging spirit. The crowds thickened on uphill sections and near the finish line, just where one most needed them.
Individuals in that huge crowd manage to personalize their cheers. If you are wearing your name prominently, you are certain to hear your name called out thousands of times! I wore many maple leaves and heard Canada urged on to greatness again and again! The gifts that onlookers give to runners are pure gold.
Boston is an extremely challenging course no matter what the weather is like, as there is an enormous amount of hill running and there are four long serious uphill sections between miles 16 and 21, the toughest of which is called Heartbreak Hill, as so many champions have stopped and quit at just that point!
On the day, my friend and I paid no attention to the hills. All of our 5 kilometre sections took approximately the same time. Although Heartbreak Hill made me slow and ponderous, we quickly made up for it as we crested the hill and looked down at the history-filled city. I paid no attention to my watch at all during the race. The pace was in my head. "Run as fast as you can for as long as you can"! At 3 hours 48 minutes, we crossed the finish line, 12 minutes faster than our intention. What a glorious moment! And then the pain!
We struggled from the finish line to the comforts of our hotel. The race was over but the bliss is longlasting! How beautiful it is to be alive - to feel joy, to feel pain! Life is sweet!
Peace and love, Nigel
