Despite only running Boston once (last year), I figured that I knew everything about the race and the course, and was destined to hit my target time of 2:55:00 or better. How quickly things would change for me, as I was cast into the stereotypical runner who goes to Boston and lets the course manage him instead of managing the course.

If you were in Boston this year, you quickly realized that the odds were stacked up against the athletes due to the impending weather conditions. News reports talked only of a big “Noreaster” storm, which would cause flooding, coupled with 5 inches of rain and wind gusts up to 50mph. My race however was not to be hampered by the weather… My race would be determined by the most fundamental of elements… The place where my cheering squad and I elected to stay! My wife has some family that lives in Boston right on the top of Beacon hill, in a 5th storey flat with no elevator, only stairs. Sufficed to say, going up and down the hill and those stairs with luggage, groceries, baby etc. in tow, my quads had already seen the equivalent of the marathon prior to even stepping foot on the course.

Back to the race. With the revised start time of 10:00am (instead of noon), the buses for the first wave of starters left between 6:00 - 6:30am. This was 2 hours earlier than I had to leave the year prior. My wife’s uncle (Larry) braved the rain and wind and walked me to the bus to wish me good luck, and then I was on my own. As usual, I was alone waiting for the race. I rarely train or compete with others. This isn’t by design, just a matter of circumstance. Once in Hopkinton, athletes get staged in athletes village, which in this year’s edition of the race, turned out to be a muddy sloppy mess. Thankfully, being there early allowed me to stake out a decent claim under a tent where I waited in the mud for another 2 and a half hours until moving to the 2nd corral where I would wait another 25 minutes in the pouring rain until tossing away my rain suit and starting the race with 11,000 or so others in the first wave start.

Similar to last year, I bombed out of the gates. I probably should have learned from the error of my ways the year prior, but I always get caught up in the start. In fact, I always love the first 5-10kms… they peel off so fast, and seem effortless. This is even more so in Boston because you are running downhill! By the halfway point, I was well within my 2:55:00 time. I fact, I was starting to think that my secret goal of 2:50 could be in the books. So, I pressed on, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit that my legs were already starting to labour. From half to 17miles, I thought of nothing else but seeing my family (Shelly and Isabelle), and my wife’s Aunt Jan and Uncle Larry, cheering me on. Finally, 17 came, and there they were on the right side of the course after there mistake of cheering on the left last year. It is always a boost to see the ones you love cheering. At Boston however, it is also ominous because they cheer at mile 17, which is the point where the course turns in Newton to start climbing out of the valley into which you have descended into. I said it last year, and I’ll repeat it here… the first of the 4 Newton hills is the worst, not Heartbreak. It was after this first hill that I knew that I was in serious trouble. As my blood sugar plummeted through the floor, and dehydration set in, my legs started to cramp and I realized I was weaving across the course. I am disappointed to say that I was reduced to run-walking for the last 8kms of the route. It’s funny because I recall thinking about the year prior when everyone seemed to have written their names on their legs and arms, and how jealous I was because I hadn’t and they were constantly being cheered on by strangers. So, I did it this year, and despite the cold temperatures, went with shorts just so people could see “WOODY” written on both calves, my wife’s and daughter’s initials (”IMCW” and SLCW”) on the fronts of both my legs, and “OTSS” and “LSS” on both my quads. Well, this year it only served as a tool for fans to yell at me to start running again when I stopped to walk. I guess in retrospect, the tactic was a good one, as my walking stints were only limited to 15 or so seconds. It has always amazed me that fans come out to cheer people like me on. It was during my lowest point of the race that I made a promise to myself to take time to be a fan or a volunteer at a race like Boston one day. As I weaved across the course, probably looking like sheer death, a kid (probably about 4 years old or so), held out 2 Oreo cookies. I snapped them up and shoved them in my face like it was the first food I had had in weeks. To this day, I’m not sure if the kid was legitimately handing them to me, or if I stole his late morning snack. All I know is that those 2 Oreos saved me. They were just the fuel that I needed to finish the race.

The rest of the race was more of the same; walk, run, struggle. Then I hit Boylston street and the last km or so. The crowds were deep here, and I knew that I would be running in. There was no possible way the crowd would let me do anything otherwise. I ended crossing the line with an official time of 3:05:58, which was almost 7 minutes slower than my time from last year. At first I was disappointed. It was my 2nd slowest time at this distance in 4 attempts. But, on the plus side, I did requalify for next year. Also, it dawned on me that the overall winner was also 7 minutes slower than his winning time last year, so that was some salvation.

I was originally not going to return to Boston next year. I figured I’d start running some other destinations so the family could travel with me and site see. However, I think that I now have something to prove to myself, so I’ll probably be back. As always, I’ll give a shoutout to my biggest fans in my wife Shelly, daughter Isabelle, and Aunt Jan and Uncle Larry. Also, a big thanks to all that followed my progress online and took an interest throughout my training. Look for some more good results from me at the OTMH 5km, possibly the Mississauga Marathon, and some adventure races throughout the summer, and for those that do… train hard.