Updated: Boston Marathon Spectator Guide - Beath Style!

Note: This blog post was originally published in 2013, before running my 2nd Boston Marathon. It's been read and shared by thousands of people since then, and it is long overdue for an update. After having spectated myself for the past 3 years, after running it for the 3 years before that, I have added some additional info to the existing post which will make it even more helpful. All changes will be in blue font. As always, I welcome your comments and suggestions.

I've traded in my running sneakers for a Hulk Costume

Original Post:
The Boston Marathon is less than two weeks away. I'm officially tapering. I know what I'm going to eat the day before, the night before, the morning of, and during the run. I know what I'm going to wear, from my headband down to my socks. My ipod is already loaded with the exact right music. But even with all the training behind me and all of the details of my race planned, one of the hardest tasks still needs to be done: organizing the spectators. There's not too much about me that is high-maintenance. I don't have a million pairs of shoes (unless you count old running sneakers), I don't wear make-up, or do my hair, or have to be home at a certain time to watch my favorite TV show. But on Marathon Monday, I become the closest thing to a diva as I'll ever get. I need to know ahead of time exactly where my friends and family will be. They will be armed with fuel and cowbells and a pacing guide so they know when to start expecting me and when to start panicking that they haven't seen me yet. Their placement and preparation is just as vital to my race day success as any other component to my training. Good planning also helps the spectators because who wants to stand around clapping for 4 hours and totally miss the runner you were there to support?

My cheering crew the night before the 2012 Boston Marathon.

There are a lot of resources on the web for spectators, but most of them give a very high level overview, like the B.A.A's Spectator Guide or Boston.com's Where to Watch. Boston.com also has a mile-by-mile guide which is handy for both runner and spectator, and has a time calculator tool so you can calculate when to anticipate your runner at any particular mile. This blog post will be very narrow in nature -- but will give detailed information about how my own cheering crew navigates the course to spectate on Marathon Monday. Keep in mind that I am a 5-6 hour marathoner, so plan accordingly if your runner is much faster than that. I've included Spectator Tips which are pearls of wisdom passed down from those who have spectated the Boston Marathon before. Runner's Tips for Spectators are just that -- tips that we, as runners, want the spectators to know. I've gathered information from my own experience, my own spectators, as well as other runners and their families. An entire book could be written about how to effectively spectate the Boston Marathon, but this is just one small sliver of information. Please feel free add your own in the comments section below.

Mile 6.2 - The Framingham Train Station

My dad, who has run the Boston Marathon 3 times, wins the award for seeing me at the most spots on the course. Spot #1 is the Framingham Train Station, located at about the 10K mark. Even though I'm still feeling fresh and full of energy at the 10K mark, I like having the support here. Since I'll have been running for over an hour at this point, it's still a significant amount of time into the race. I'll have already fueled twice by now, so my dad will be able to hand me some nutrition that I'll need for the next couple of miles.

Getting here by car: If you're driving, take route 128 south to Rt. 9 West, to Rt.27 South. There are NO street closures on this route, and you can find free metered street parking nearby, or pay $5 to park in one of the closer MBTA lots.

Getting here via public transportation: To get here from the city, board the commuter rail at either South Station or Back Bay station and it's a 40 minute ride which will cost you $8 each way. Peak marathon viewing times are not at peak-commuter times, so the train only comes once every 1.5-2 hours. Plan accordingly.

Spectator Tip: Know what your runner is wearing! After watching runners run by you for 20+ minutes (or an hour or more), you will forget what your loved one looks like. It sounds crazy, but it's true. "Is that him?" "No, that's a woman." It's much easier to scan the crowd for a particular color shirt than to try to do facial recognition on the tens of thousands of runners that will run by you.

Runners Tip for the Spectators: High fives are fun, but they can get really tiring. Give us a thumbs up instead. If we're wearing our names on our shirts, it's because we want you to personally cheer us on. Let's hear ya! (And a bonus tip for the runners: write your name on a piece of tape instead of directly on your shirt, that way when you're sick of hearing people yell your name by mile 20 or whenever, you can just rip it off.)

Mile 11.8 - The Natick/Wellesley Line

This is an odd spot along the course with not too many crowds, and nothing really exciting happening, which makes it a great place to have spectators waiting for you. It's after the liveliness of downtown Natick, and before the screech-tunnel at Wellesley college, and a perfect time to get another banana from your family. Spectators will enjoy this spot because they don't have to stand in a crowd five people deep. This stretch of Route 135 is not residential so spectators have lots of space without feeling like they are sitting on someone's lawn. It's also not commercial which is great for nature lovers, but the downside is that there's no nearby Dunkin Donuts to run into for an iced coffee and a bathroom break. Last year my mom and my cousin set up camp here with a cooler and lawn chairs. They were able to see the elites run by and then a short 2 hours later, they saw me come lumbering along. Accessibility note: In between where you park your car, and where the marathon course is, there is a commuter rail track. Trains WILL come flying by at an alarming speed, and there are no safety barriers or helpful "train approaching" bells here. Be sure to take care when crossing the tracks.

Getting here by car: Route 9 to Oak Street to Bacon Street. Beware of road closures on route 9 if coming from east of Wellesley or points east. Click on the thumbnail for a map and detailed driving directions.

Not accessible by Public Transportation

Spectator Tip: From my cousin Emily who was here for 2+ hours: "Skip the clapping. MORE COWBELL!" Seriously, clapping makes sense for about 2 minutes. For the rest of the day, your hands will be raw and your arms will be sore.

Runner's Tip for the Spectators: Skip the clapping. MORE COWBELL. Seriously, we love that shit.

Mile 16.5 - Route 128 overpass & Newton/Wellesley Hospital

As a runner, I like having someone (My dad, again!) at this point in the race. Some say this is where the race truly starts. This is the climb out of the Newton Lower Falls and is the start of the Newton Hills. This is a great spectator spot for those who are driving because you can park at the rest area on route 128 and sneak over to the marathon route as it crosses the highway. Watching from this vantage point is great because you will be looking downhill at the runners coming towards you, which allows you to spot your runner ahead of time. And because you're parked at a rest area, you can head back to the rest area for a bathroom break between seeing the elites and waiting for your runner. Once you're done spectating here, it's a quick getaway on 128 to the Mass Pike which will take you into Boston and toward the finish. You will need to reverse direction on 128, so just exit at the next exit (Route 9 West) and take your first right off the exit to make a u-turn, then get back on 128 North toward the Mass Pike. Alternatively, you can exit at Route 9 East and make your way into Boston, although this will put you south of the finish line, which makes sense only if the finish line is your next stop. You won't be able to get to Kenmore Square easily from this route.

If you're supporting the Run For Research Team, or just love the color orange and want to be in good company, the official Run For Research cheering station is located in front of Newton Wellesley Hospital about 1/4 mile from the 128 overpass. This is another spot that offers restrooms and refreshments.

Getting here by car: From Route 128 South, exit at the rest area just after exit 22. In recent years, there are parking attendants here who will guide marathon spectators to a special parking area directly in front of the gas pumps. Cars will be parked in two parallel lines with an exit lane in the middle. If you arrive before the elites come through, or after a significant amount of age groupers have passed, you should have no trouble parking here. Parking in the general parking lot is also an option if the designated marathon spots are full. If you're facing the rest area building (McDonald's and a convenience store inside), you want to walk to the left of the building and behind where the tractor trailers park. You'll see a well-marked path which will connect you to the off-ramp from exit 22, which will lead you to the marathon course (route 16). This ramp is open to cars merging onto 128, so be sure to look right for passing cars. This route is accessible by most able bodied people, but since there is a bit of off-roading involved, just be aware if you have any spectators that are physically limited in any way.

Getting here via public transportation: The Woodland Station stop on the Green "D" line is located just after Newton/Wellesley hospital.

Spectator Tip: Wear your watch, and know the estimated pace of your runner. If you've been standing at mile 16-17 for awhile, you have lost the ability to mentally estimate when your runner is coming by. My aunt retells her experience as a spectator this way, "You see all of these old men who are hunched over, and these old women with their arm skin flapping in the breeze, and they all look so awful and they're all going so slow. And then you STILL have to wait for Beth." If she wasn't wearing her watch and looking at my pacing guide that I prepared for her, she probably would have left thinking I was much closer to Beacon Street. Nope! Still in Newton!

Special parking for marathon spectators

Well-marked trails leading to the exit ramp

exit ramp leading to marathon route

spectator viewing angle
(Women's leaders, 2017 Boston Marathon)

Mile 19 - The Middle of the Newton Hills

The only time I've run Boston was last year, 2012, the year of the heat wave. I liked having a gaggle of spectators in the middle of the Newton Hills because I was walking most of this stretch, and it was just nice to be able to stop and talk. I don't plan to do any stopping & talking this year, but I still think I'll appreciate having spectators here. A fellow runner brought up a good point though, saying that the middle of the hills would be the worst time for others to see her on the course. Surely a nice downhill section when we still have energy would make a better impression. My sister will be at mile 19 again, and one of her favorite things about this location is that she is able to watch all of the live coverage of the marathon on TV and see the winners win, and then head out to the course to wait for me. The Newton Hills have a parade feel to them. There are kids selling lemonade, sausage carts, ice cream trucks, and of course, a parade of runners to entertain you.

Getting here by car: If coming from the north side of the course you can take 128 to Comm. Ave in Newton and cut over to Washington St. and then to Walnut Street. Click on the thumbnail for a map and

directions. Don't rely on GPS or google maps to get here, as most of the streets will be closed. If coming from the south, be aware that Walnut Street is closed at Beacon Street and many of the local businesses in the area will not allow you to park in their lot. Your best bet is to park in the smaller neighborhoods that connect to Walnut Street and then make your way over to Comm Ave.

Getting here via Public Transportation. The Newton Hills are not accessible via Public Transportation except for the start of the Newtons Hills at Mile 17 (Woodland T stop on the Green "D" Line). If you really want to see runners toward the end of the Newton Hills, you can take the Green "B" Line to the end of the line, Boston College. The runners you'll see here have just crested Heartbreak Hill, so walk about 1/2 mile along the course to get to the top of Heartbreak Hill. Note for out-of-towners: Even though the Woodland and Boston College stops are both on the Green Line, they are on different routes, so you will not be able to make it to both of these stops.

Spectator Tip:  When planning your travel to the route, pay attention to which side of the course you will be on. Do not assume you can cross the course, even on foot. If you are meeting other specatators here (or most places on the course) the side of the road that you start on is where you'll likely need to stay. Do not play frogger with the marathoners.

Runner's Tip for the Spectator: Do not yell, "You're almost there." Unless we can SEE the finish line, never say "You're almost there."

Mile 25.2 - Kenmore Square

If I can make it to Kenmore Square, I can make it to the finish line, but I am DAMN glad to see my dad at mile 25 instead of waiting one more mile. Kenmore Square is still packed with people, but not as bad as the finish line, so it's a bit easier for your spectator to spot you and you to spot them. For a less crowded spot and a better vantage point, head up Beacon Street to the top of what we runners call "Mount Kenmore", which would appear to be a tiny little hill... unless you've been running for 25 miles, and then you understand the nickname. Similar to the hill over the 128 overpass, you have a longer vision of the course and can pick out your individual runner well before they are running by you.

Getting here by car: If you're coming via the Mass Pike, exit at the Allston/Cambridge exit and then take route 20 through Brighton down to Kenmore.

Getting here via public transportation: The Kenmore Square stop is on the Green Line, and is the station where the "B", "C", and "D" trains all merge. Take any of these lines inbound and Kenmore will be the first underground stop.

Spectator Tip: Don't bring balloons to help the runner find you. They are too cumbersome.

Runner's Tip for the Spectator: Don't bring balloons to help us find you. We won't see them. We're more apt to look for familiar clothes or faces.

Finish Line - Boylston Street

Who fucking cares, I just ran the Boston Marathon!

Getting here by car... is a nightmare, but doable. Take the Mass Pike to the Prudential exit. The Dartmouth Street Garage is fairly close to the finish line, and is accessible during the race. Getting from your car to a viewing spot on Boylston Street is also tough, as many of the roads are closed to pedestrians. As this original blog was written before the 2013 bombing, it should be noted that stricter security controls at the finish line have made it even harder to navigate your way to a good viewing spot along Boylston Street. Leave lots of time to get here, or skip one of the earlier spots and just plan on staying at the finish line all day.

Getting here by public transportation: refer to T-dependent spectators section.

Spectator Tip: Don't be disappointed when you don't actually see your runner cross the finish line. You might have to head up Boylston Street for quite a ways before you can find a good viewing spot.

Runner's Tip for the Spectator: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

T-dependent spectators: If you are T-dependent and want to watch the marathon from multiple locations, you'll want to start your day by hopping on the Green "D" line and taking it out to Woodland Station, by the Newton/Wellesley Hopsital, just before the 17 mile mark and the start of the Newton Hills. The D line doesn't travel along the marathon course, but the Reservoir stop is very close to Cleveland Circle, which is at about mile 22. Once you are at Cleveland Circle, you can hop on the Green "C" line which is an above ground trolley that will take you down the middle of Beacon Street so you can watch the runners as you go. Keep in mind that if you see your runner at mile 22 then hop on the Green Line, your runner is likely to beat you to the finish line.

The Copley stop on the Green line is closed on Marathon Monday, and the stops on either side of Copley (Hynes, then Arlington) are congested, as are most of the sidewalks once you get above ground and try to navigate your way to the finish line. For those spectators who aren't coming from the Green line and just want to navigate their way to the finish line at some point in the day, your best bet is to avoid the Green line altogether and take the Orange or the Red line to the Park Street stop. It's about a 10-15 minute walk, and you get to walk through Boston Common and the Public Gardens.

Spectator Tip: Before the day of the marathon, get yourself a Charlie Card (T-pass) and load it up with money. This will save you many minutes of waiting in line to buy a ticket every time you need to get on the T.

Marathon Route (Red) and MBTA lines (Green)

Being a spectator is hard work! Runners just have to follow the crowd and we'll eventually get where we're going. Spectating effectively takes lots of planning, preparation, and coordination. I am very grateful to have such an awesome crew of family members who are willing to stagger themselves along the course for my benefit, and of course to the other 500,000 people who I don't know, who are cheering me on just the same.

Thank you spectators!

Inventing Money

Weeks 3 and 4 in my belly dancing class have had such basic, simple lessons, that I thought, "how am I going to write a blog entry around something this basic?" Then I realized that's no different than any of my blog entries. It's the reason I over-use the phrase "re-piphany" so often. (Definition: to have the same epiphany over and over again.)

These re-piphanies usually come to be because of the ground-up thought process that happens. By the time you reach the conclusion, you are so deep in your own intricate thought process that you feel like you've invented some new school of thought or methodology. And then when you say it outloud, you immediately realize that your new found knowledge falls into the category of common sense.

Example: When I was in college, my friend Melissa and I were lounging by the pool. Somehow we got onto the subject of money, and how it was such a silly concept. 

Wouldn't it make more sense if we had some sort of bartering system instead? Like, we all need food and shelter and basic supplies, and we all have talents that someone else needs. It seems logical, then, that we can all get everything we need without the use of money. 

We continued down the rabbit hole. 

But what if you have skills that someone else needs right now, like you can build their house, except what they are offering in return, say, a year's worth of corn, you don't want right now. Or maybe you don't want corn at all, but someone else does, and that someone else has something you do want, like meat or fresh fruit. You should be able to barter among groups of people that aren't necessarily involved in the original transaction. 

The conversation up until this point probably lasted about 30 minutes. We were getting really into the weeds of it all. And no, we were not stoned or under the influence of anything except utopian youth.

So you should be able to bank those credits and then use them for whatever else you might need. It could get a little confusing and hard to keep track of, once you start bringing more people into the mix, so there has to be a way to keep track of these bartering credits. Maybe there should be some sort of basic currency that everyone is free to trade back and forth, which represents the value of what is being bartered. Yes! That would work! Wait, did we just invent money? Ugh. Well that was a waste of time.

Except, it's not a waste of time. That's learning. And that's what happened in weeks 3 and 4, when our instructor brought us back to basics.

In week 3 we learned that very simple details can make a huge difference. Specifically, she was talking about how your feet are placed. A few more inches to either side, and instead of looking like a belly dancer, you might look like you are doing a completely different style of dance. Should you be on the heels of your feet, or up on the balls of your feet? That depends if you are going for a heavy, earthy feel, or if you are looking for a more regal-style of your performance. And of course, all of these details are linked to the music itself, which might seem like a minor detail, but is actually immensely important. God forbid you danced Turkish-style belly dancing to an Egyptian song. Everything is relevant, and everything matters. 

In week 4, we gutted the footwork down to its most basic roots. We learned about the "1-step" which is basically the same as walking. The "2-step" which is taking one step with one foot, and following the step with the other foot to the same position (step-touch, anyone?). The "3-step", which is, you guessed it, 3 steps in one movement, much like a sashay or "chasse", if you're fancy. Then we learned the 4-step move which we learned as "front, place, back, place." Then we modified it so we were moving side to side, either with our leading leg, or our trailing leg. And here's where my mind was blown: Doing the 4-step move sideways with the trailing leg is the SAME THING as the grapevine move that I first learned about from Jane Fonda on a VHS tape back in the early 80's. We didn't start with the grapevine move, and I didn't know that's where we'd end up. We just broke down the move into its individual parts, then we modified it. Then we modified it again, and the further it got from its original state, the more it looked like something completely recognizable. I had the same feeling as I did when I realized that Melissa and I re-invented money, which is a state of confusion where I don't know if I'm an idiot or a genius. 

The good news is, I don't need to decide right now. I'll wait until I have this epiphany again, and then I'll decide.

Adventures in Belly Dancing

There I was, sitting on my couch like it was any other Saturday, wondering, like most Saturdays... what was I supposed to do? I miss my marathon training days when weekends were pre-planned around a long run: go to bed early Friday night, long run Saturday morning (sometimes into early afternoon), post-long run socializing and re-fueling with teammates, then spending the rest of the day Saturday analyzing my Garmin file. I haven't been marathon training in two years, but still, I feel lost on most weekends.

Lost on the couch, I was unenthusiastically skimming Facebook when I noticed a post in a Facebook Group I belong to. The post was advertising an upcoming Belly Dancing class, but that's not what hooked me. What hooked me was the promise of a "strictly body-positive space, with no diet talk or body judgment allowed." Upon further research of this class, I found two key pieces of information that led me to my decision to join for all 15 weeks. First, there was this blurb on the website for the class, which reinforced the promise of a body-positive space:

One of the wonderful things about belly dance is the way it celebrates body diversity. Belly dance looks completely different, but equally good, on each woman’s body. Part of learning to dance is discovering which movements look good and feel right on your body as it is now. Focusing on changing your body hinders that process.

Your body as it is now. I knew knew almost immediately that I needed to take this class, if for nothing else than to explore what that meant. I've been on a sort of solo journey figuring this out. How do you suddenly accept and appreciate a body that you've spent so much of your life berating and trying to change? I thought maybe this class would be a step in the right direction.

The second deciding factor came in the form of a mutual Facebook friend with the woman who posted about the class. This mutual friend is one of the most dynamic, interesting, exotic and intriguing people I've ever known. She herself is a belly dancer, among many other talents, and a big passion in her life is dance. I asked this friend if she would recommend this instructor. Not only was her response about the instructor positive, but her enthusiasm at the prospect that I might do this was very encouraging. A few hours and one paypal payment later, I was committed!

I've since had two classes out of the 15-week series, and so far I love it. I'd like to document at least one lesson learned from each class -- and I'm not talking about how to shimmy (mostly because I don't really know how yet.)

Week 1: Get over yourself.
The first week taught me to stop being so judgmental with myself. I read and re-read and FAQ on the website about what to wear. I studied the group photos of students on the website to see what they were wearing. I was so nervous that I'd be the person who showed up to class wearing the wrong clothes. The general suggestion was to wear clothes that are form fitting, or that show the belly/hips, mostly so the instructor can see the lines of your body and help you adjust your movements.

I also bought myself a coin hip scarf from the instructor, you know, so I can hear what my hips are doing even if I can't see them (definitely more blog posts to follow on the actual "dancing"!) Form fitting clothes with a loud (literally) and shiny accessory? This basically goes against every fashion rule I have for myself, which is basically to wear loose clothing in muted browns and grays so I can go through life completely unnoticed. Once I was in the class, I didn't even care what I was wearing, or what other people were wearing. I was physically comfortable, and the coin scarf does actually help me learn the movements. What I thought would be so out of character and uncomfortable for me turned out to be just a minor detail in the grand scheme of things. How's that for a lesson that I can apply to everything else in my life?

Week 2: How to be Gracious. 
The second week of class taught me about being gracious, specifically in the form of doing curtsies. The instructor reminds us periodically about performance habits, since some of us might eventually be performing in front of other people. She told us how applause from the audience was their way of being part of the show, as well as showing appreciation for the performer, and that we are being rude if we don't acknowledge this appreciation with a curtsy. She equated it to being given a compliment from someone in real life. "When someone gives you a compliment, you smile and say thank you, right?"  Totally busted. I am horrible at accepting compliments. I usually dismiss the compliment, or tell the person why they are wrong to compliment me, etc. But now, through practicing the curtsy after each mini-lesson, I am practicing being gracious. I actually got to practice this lesson in a real-life situation this week. I was given a gift card at work by my boss for going above & beyond. I've only been there a month, and I don't feel 100% knowledgeable and productive yet, so the idea that I would be given acknowledgment for anything less than that felt wrong to me. I found myself starting to protest as she handed me the gift card, but I remembered the lesson, so I just smiled and said thank you. I don't think about smiling and saying thank you as something I need to practice, but until it becomes more natural, I will keep practicing.

Beath, Pray, Love

Even though I strongly disliked the book "Eat, Pray, Love", and have never seen the movie, I can't resist a catchy pun for a blog post title, so there you have it. Beath Mode has been off for awhile, but the journey is never actually over, is it? I was caught in the "bigger & better" cycle with my training/racing a few years ago, where I felt like I either needed to be faster or stronger, and if I couldn't do that, then I would do races that were longer or crazy. Unless you're dedicated to your training (I wasn't) or have the desire to compete (I didn't), this bigger & better cycle quickly implodes.

And that's ok.

It feels good to claim my seat, in a completely non-judgmental way.

While I don't miss the training or the racing (some days I do, shhh!), I do miss the writing, and documenting my journey, and re-reading my old blog posts to laugh at how I was so pompous/selfish/insecure/impressive//tired/talented and perhaps, ahem, judgmental? But here's the thing: I can write anyway. I can "do it anyway" (my mantra for Timberman 70.3 in 2013). I don't need to do something bigger or better or longer or crazier to write about. I can just be. And that's ok, too.

Ong Namo Guru Dev Namo.

Race Report: Mashpee Super Swim

Mashpee Super Swim
3 mile swim
June 20, 2015, 9am
Total time: 1:50:07

2015 is the year of the swim, and the Mashpee Super Swim was my first distance swim of the season. I had done a 1 mile swim at the Landshark Swim in Amesbury a few weeks ago, which was a nice warm-up, but I feel like it's not worth writing a race report unless I'm scared to death, or doing something I've never done before, or something memorable happens like I get on the podium, or shit my pants mid-race (sadly, I think we all know which one of those two is likely to happen before the other.)

Since some of my regular readers aren't used to reading about swimming, now is a good time to show a rough comparison chart:

Run	Swim	Finishing time (range)
5K/3.1 miles	1 mile	15:00-45:00
Half Marathon/13.1 miles	3 miles or 5K	1:15:00 – 2:30:00
Marathon/26.2 miles	6 miles or 10K	2:30:00 – 6:00:00
Ultra marathon (anything longer than 26.2 miles) 50K, 50M, 100K, 100M, etc.	Anything longer, from 10 miles to the English Channel swim (21+ miles) to Diana Nyad’s famous Cuba to Key West swim (100+ miles)	Hours to Days

I just made that chart up, so it's not like an industry standard or anything. I only put it in here because people either over-estimate or under-estimate the magnitude of a 3 mile swim. They either think it'll take me all day, or they say, "Shouldn't take that long, you run 3 miles all the time." For where I am in my swim fitness, a 3 mile swim is long enough that I need to train for it, but not too long that it impacts my life, and I can still be done before breakfast.

Pre-race lounging

Right, so. Mashpee. Mashpee is a little town on the Cape which I'd never been to before. My GPS said it would take about and hour and forty minutes to get there. I wasn't sure if I'd hit cape traffic on the way there so I left a little extra early. I ended up getting to the race an hour and a half early, which is just right for triathlon standards, but tons of time for a swim race. I was already wearing my bathing suit, and I wasn't planning to wear a wetsuit, so basically, I was ready to go. The great thing about this race which I noticed right away is how many people where just chilling on the beach, in beach chairs, like it was any other summer day. At 7:30 in the morning. Naturally, I got my beach chair out of my trunk (which is in there for precisely situations like this -- always be prepared!), and I found a sunny spot and just sat. There was music playing over the speakers, and the first song I remember hearing was Indigo Girl's "Watershed" which has some relevant lyrics like, "I better learn how to swim, because the crossing is chilly and wide." "You can stand there and agonize, til your agony's your heaviest load." And I realized how free I felt, because I felt no agony today, no nervousness, no fear. Even though I've never done a 3 mile race, I had covered the distance once in training, so I had a sort of quiet confidence. I knew I'd be towards the back of the pack upon finishing, and even that was good to know and accept ahead of time.

Once it was finally race time, we gathered for quick announcements and the national anthem, then the 3 milers got into the water for an in-water start. The 1-milers and 1/2 milers would start in staggered waves behind us. The race course was a 1-mile rectangle, which I would do 3 times.

Calm before the swim storm

I usually get caught up in the surge at the start of a race and then settle into a rhythm, but for this start, I purposely hung back and tried to get into a rhythm immediately. There really weren't many swimmers near me at all because we spread out so fast. There was another swimmer who was with me for the first mile and a half. I would draft off of his left side for a while but his tempo was just a tad slower than mine, so then I'd go ahead, he'd pass me, etc. etc. At the first buoy turn at the far end of the rectangle, I had my first sighting mishap. Usually I'm pretty good about sighting but somehow I must have taken the buoy turn too sharply, and I started swimming to the wrong buoy across the middle of the rectangle. One of the kayakers had to cut me off with her kayak and tell me that I was going the wrong way. She was very polite about it. I felt like a dummy, but just started swimming toward the correct buoy. The GPS map of my swim doesn't make this mistake look as bad as it felt. As I finally caught back up to the stream of swimmers, I realized how many 1 milers were now in the mix. It was a busy first loop, and I was looking forward to loop 2.

I had set the timer on my watch to buzz every 40 minutes. My goal was 40 minutes per mile. I had finished the 1 mile Landshark Swim in just under 40 minutes a few weeks ago, and since I'm good at endurance but not speed, I figured I could maintain the same speed for 3 times the distance. As I rounded the first buoy that marked the beginning of the rectangle, I still hadn't felt my watch buzz, which meant I had swum the first mile in less than 40 minutes. I was about a third of the way down the side of the course before I heard it buzz, so I knew I was making pretty good time. A few minutes after the watch buzz, I stopped for a nutrition break. Taking nutrition in a swim race like this means treading water to fetch the food you've stuffed down your bathing suit top, eating it, stashing the trash back in your suit, and continuing on. Immediately after I started up again, the guy from the first loop was back, and again, he was ever so casually in my way. He cut me off at a weird angle, so then I cut behind him to pass him on his left side, but he managed to stay right in front of me, and then he just came to a complete stop. I had no right to be annoyed, since I had just stopped for my own nutrition break. I didn't want to be doing this little cha-cha for another mile and a half, so I surged ahead and that was the last time I saw him. It was actually nice to be swimming all alone. For the rest of my 2nd loop, I had a little bit of company because all of the faster 3 milers were lapping me as they finished up their race. I actually kind of liked it because it was fun to see people swim by me.

For the 3rd loop, I really was all alone. I spent about 80% of the 3rd loop trying to figure out why the other 3-milers only lapped me once and not twice. I even changed the mental analogy to 2 people walking 3 laps around a track, and I tried to envision how one person could walk 3 laps and only pass the slower person once. It's really not that difficult to figure out, but during that 3rd loop, I was completely stumped. So when someone asks, "What do you think about while you're swimming?" now I have an answer. It was hard to tell if my last mile was my fastest. In stretches where the water was calm, I really felt like I was flying. But then there were some stretches where there was a lot of chop -- either from the wind, or from some of the motorized boats that were creating a wake. Only once did I have to stop and get my bearings because the waves were disorienting. I said something to the kayaker who was floating along beside me. When she saw me stop, she said, "are you ok?" and I said, "Tell them to stop making waves!" then I realized how bitchy i must have sounded, so I said, "Just kidding!" which doesn't actually even make any sense. It didn't really matter because I kept on swimming and that was my final leg into shore.

Right before I got out of the water to run across the finish line, I had to make a minor wardrobe adjustment. I was sort of crouched in the water, trying to shove a very buoyant boob back into my suit. The people working the finish line must have thought I thought I was done, because they were yelling, "Keep going! You have to come out and cross the line!" A quick tuck and a yank of the suit, and I was out of the water and crossing the line. Final time was 1:50:07. I had beat my goal time of 2 hours (40 minutes per mile) by just about 10 minutes, AND I wasn't dead last. The guy who I passed on loop 2 finished less than 2 minutes behind me. A 3 mile race with every time under 2 hours is pretty impressive. I am looking forward to doing more swim races, and maybe even moving up in the rankings a little bit, although I'm happy with last place as long as I can stay relaxed and happy like I was today.

Race Report: Run to Remember Half Marathon

Run to Remember Half Marathon
Sunday, May 24, 2015
Start time: 7am
Temp at start: 60 degrees, bright & sunny
Finish Time: 3:11:05

Wow, my first half marathon since June of last year. Those days of running a half marathon every month seem like a distant memory, and my legs would agree with that too. However, this race falls into my top 5 "most proud of" list. I knew I wasn't in any shape to have a great finish time, but the mental victory that happened was even better. Here's how it all went down:

The training

I was on the "one long per week" training plan, which is not actually a training plan. I was swimming a few days per week, and occasionally I would do a mid-week short run, which for me these days means less than 2 miles. Not exactly the kind of miles you need to be logging when training for 13.1 miles. My two longest runs were both 10 miles, both of which I did with my training partner Lisa. One was an awesome run, and the second one was so bad that I felt like rigor mortis had set in around mile 9.5. I tried to do one more 10 miler after that -- a redemption run, if you will -- but that one I only made 8 miles, and I didn't feel any better. It's hard to go into a race with the mantra of "trust your training" when your training looked like that, so instead, I just had to find a new mantra. My new mantra became "find your limits."

Speaking of finding limits, Run to Remember seems to grow in participants every year. This year there were 11,000 people running the race, which is a combination of half marathon and 5-mile participants. They shut down many streets in Boston and Cambridge for this race to happen. Because of the sheer volume of people and the impact on the city, they discourage walkers from the half marathon because they need to reopen the streets as quickly as possible. The race director had sent multiple emails reminding runners that they could switch from the half marathon to the 5-mile at no cost. There was also a note on their website that any runners that didn't make it to the 2 mile mark by 28 minutes would be diverted to the 5-mile course. A fourteen-minute mile is roughly the distinguishing line between those who are running and those who are walking. A fourteen-minute mile also happens to be my goal pace. I thought about the possibility of switching to the 5-mile race, but a 5-mile race really had no appeal to me. A few days before the race I made peace with the fact that if I was diverted to the 5-mile course, then at least I knew that that decision was made for me, and it wasn't me opting out. 

Race Day

There was a group of us running, so we all met up before the race: Me, my cousin Jane, my brother-in-law Aniss, and my liver teammates Lisa & Connie. My sister Kate was there to spectate and hold all of my stuff (thanks Kate!) The race was so congested that we were still trying to get out of the building when they were singing the Star Spangled Banner. The first wave of people started, and we were still packed like sardines in the lobby of the building. After the second wave of people started, the crowd started to move forward, and we just got swept along into the starting corrals. There was likely no integrity left to the pacing order by which you're supposed to line up. It was just a sea of people with no choice but to surge forward. We started somewhere around 7:20am, and there was a 4th wave that started a few minutes after we did.

I felt like crap for the first few miles of the race. Actually, I felt like I usually feel when I go out for a run lately. It wasn't really anything new, I'm just out of shape and it takes a lot of energy just to do my patented "shuffle pace". I had no idea how I was going to continue this for another 11 miles. I was running with Connie, and I told her that I thought I'd switch to the 5-mile. I was surprised that I even thought that, let alone said it out loud, but that's how uncomfortable I was. I didn't even know if I could do the 5-mile. Everything just felt wrong. Connie tried to talk me out of it, and I think I could only manage a reply of an eye roll and an "ok" between huffs and puffs. I was secretly hoping that a volunteer on the course would be diverting the rest of us to the 5-mile course, which is just after the 2 mile mark. Connie, who had been running on my right hand side the entire race, suddenly appeared on my left side. Oddly enough, this was the side of the road where the 5 mile course split off. I joked that she was placing herself strategically between me and my escape route. When we got to the split, the volunteer who was directing runners said, "5-milers to the left, half marathoners to the right, if there's any of you left." Well, that's encouraging. I decided that I'd keep going on the half course until I found my limit, and then I'd just cut the course and walk back, taking the DNF. I told Connie that was my plan, and encouraged her to go ahead since she was planning to run the entire course, so she didn't need to sacrifice her race for mine when mine was already a lost cause. She slowly inched away from me and I continued my solo shuffle.

At the first out & back turnaround, Connie and I saw each other as we passed. I mockingly yelled to her, "I'm doing it! I'm doing it!" at which point the two women in front of me turned around and said, "Oh good for you! Is this your first?" and I said, "No, it's my twenty-third, but I don't remember it being this hard. Feels like my first!" That was the beginning of a long stretch of condescending cheers. Further up the course, you pass the front of the pack runners as they are doubling-back toward the finish line. I love the race for this reason, especially because it's a local race and I get to see a lot of friends and fellow teammates as they pass. It was in this stretch that I found my groove. My fastest mile of the race was in this stretch, and it felt effortless. I found the joy that I used to know from running in this stretch. It was wonderful. And yes, there were also the condescending cheers. These are the cheers from complete strangers that are running and cut over to the center line just to high five me and say, "way to go! you got this!" I know they meant well, and it didn't really bother me, but I knew that these same people wouldn't have given two shits about me had I been a few minutes faster per mile. Ah well... the good thing about being at the back of the pack, almost on your own, is that you get all of the attention to yourself. This was another mental victory for me, because on any other day, I would have avoided eye contact with these people, or taken my bib number off and moved to the sidewalk so they wouldn't know I was even participating in the same race as them. But instead, I returned every high five with a smile and damn if that didn't put a spring in my step. I love running!

The turnaround was fairly uneventful, although somewhere between mile 8 and 9 I think I knew that I'd be finishing the half marathon. It was also somewhere along here that I saw the street sweeper up on the course ahead of me, and shortly after that the police cruiser came by and told all the runners to get on the sidewalk. I knew that might be a possibility for the last few miles, but not at mile 8. But again, another mental victory, I just moved to the sidewalk. I didn't let that little incident ruin my day, or cast judgment on my value as a human being. It just meant I'd be running about 10 feet further to the right than what I had been doing, and I carried on. There were still water stops and even energy gel on the course, and plenty of volunteers that weren't yet showing signs of exhaustion and boredom, so for that I am thankful. I do wish that the last 2 miles of the course would have had course guides, or signage, or even arrows painted on the ground. We had no idea where to go, and at more than one intersection, I would run into another racer with a bib number on who came from an entirely different direction. We'd look at each other and at each of the possible directions of the intersection, collectively shrug, then choose a path at random. Follow for one block, repeat. 

Eventually we made our way to the finishing stretch. I finished about 12 minutes slower than last year, which is actually a huge victory considering I was supposedly in marathon shape last year (I say supposedly, because I wasn't, but you get the idea.) Forgetting about the finishing time though, what a huge triumph for me personally. I can bitch and moan all I want about how I've been in a funk, but that's simply not true. I might not have the same level of fitness I've had in the past, but I have a good attitude, and that's even harder to master. I found the joy in running that I used to have; I reconnected with my liver teammates, even if it was just a high-five on the course or a quick chat before the race; I didn't quit even when presented with a perfectly reasonable, well-marked path; and I finished strong with a smile on my face. Dare I say it, but Beath Mode On!

Finding my limits

Well hey there stranger. It's been a while since I've checked in. Long story short, I've decided to focus on swimming for 2015. I cancelled my registration for a June triathlon, and I'm suspecting the same fate is in store for the two tris I am scheduled to do in August. But it's all good because I'm so excited to be focusing on the swimming instead!

I have four swim races planned for this summer already -- the first one is a fairly easy distance so it'll be a good introduction to my open water swim season; the second one is a stretch for me physically, but totally doable; the third one is totally outside of my comfort zone and it scares the shit out of me; and finally, the fourth one is nothing scary at all and will just be a fun day with good people. The big race that I was hoping to do this year has actually been cancelled, so I'm bummed about that. I would have liked to do a "marathon" swim, but that might have to wait until 2016. It's probably just as well. I have a tendency to do too much of everything I like and then I get burnt out.

Speaking of burn out, one of the things that I think contributed to my burn out was doing too much group activity and telling everyone what my race plans were. I frequently forget that the reason I train for and compete in races is because I want to celebrate what my body can do. Yes, even this under-trained, overfed, imperfect body. I need to get back to doing what makes me happy, which for me means training alone or with people that share my same philosophy. I have to ask myself, "If no one could know that I did this, would I still do it?" I find that that question helps to pinpoint which goals I have that might only be for bragging rights, and which goals I have that are truly for me. That's not to say I won't brag if I do something I'm proud of, just so we're clear.

On that note, tomorrow I am running a half marathon. When I ask myself the question of if I'd still do it if no one could know, my knee jerk reaction is that I don't even want anyone to know that I'm running this. It's possible I'll finish after the course closes. It's possible I'll DNF or get diverted to the 5 mile course. Despite all of that, I am actually looking forward to this experience. I owe it to my body to let it see what it can do. I won't be ashamed of my limits.