Boston Cheers 2

Following the tradition of previous years, here's my 4th annual marathon tale. I'd been following the weather predictions closely and hoped that the 'scattered showers' would scatter away from the course--or at least from the spots where I was running! As it turned out, Monday was a sunny day in the 50s, with a bit of a headwind & no rain. 13, 752 runners showed up from all parts of the globe & crowded into the Athletes Village. 4, 949 of us were women, including Bobbi Gibb, the first woman to run Boston in 1967 during the "unofficial era." Thanks in part to her run, now we're allowed to race distances longer than 1.5 miles!

Having learned my lesson from last year, I wore about 5 layers to keep warm before the race. Rick commented that with my getup (fluorescent pink ski hat, sunglasses, turquoise rain jacket and blue wind pants) he probably couldn' t pick me out of a lineup. I recognized the California couple I met last year, whose decision to wear shorts--again--clearly signaled that they hadn't learned their lesson. My favorite pre-race characters were the runner with the clear plastic shower cap, the one wearing a ratty, navy blue, terry cloth robe, and a group of 12 Korean men and one woman who sat in a circle, carbo-loading on Korean foods that I didn't recognize, except that they involved rice and/or beans. The other Highnooners and I grazed on more traditional pre-race foods, chatted, and read the paper, waiting for the race to begin.

Sara, Sandy, and I dropped off our gear at the school buses, wished each other well, and headed to our respective bins. My number (7979--signed by Khalid Khannouchi (sp?) placed me in the 7th bin. Four minutes after the start, the mat dutifully chirped as my chip crossed the starting line. I planned on doing even 7:38 splits for a 3:20 marathon. I went out at 7:20 and tried to hold back for the next miles, knowing I had a long road ahead.

Seeing my name pinned to my singlet, people cheered for me along the whole route. It was so motivating to hear people screaming "Esther" (or "Estah"), as if they had shown up just to watch me run!! This year, I heard several childhood nicknames. A kid yelled, "Go Easter!" either because he misread my name, he thought it was funny, or because it was, in fact, the day after Easter. One man called me "Queen Esther". Yet another cheered, "Go Estah" and only after I had passed, added, "Molestah". (He wins the mean, cowardly fan award!) The best fan award once again goes to the Wellesley women. Every year I get choked up when I run by and hear these hundreds or even thousands of women screaming at the top of their lungs. I particularly remember the tongue-pierced woman beating a metal pot with a wooden spoon.

Back to the race. I was feeling really good and went through 13.1 at 1:37:27 (7:26 pace), a few minutes faster than I had planned. I knew that the brutal Newton hills were coming up in a few miles. My legs started to tire slightly and I felt a few blisters forming, but I tried to ignore their plaintive cries. I started responding less to people's cheers and didn't give as many kids high-fives, despite the eager looks on their faces. I still noticed some interesting fans, including an elderly man playing the accordion, and a huge man cheering enthusiastically in a red and blue sequin dress. I had long since passed the runner in the 'Kenyan Drinking Club' T-shirt, who chased a beer can attached to his cap by a metal wire.

With 10 miles to go, I told myself, "Alright, this is just like the 10 mile loop I do every Friday". The hills were tough, but I passed quite a few people, thanks to those weekly long runs that start off with 5 miles of uphill from the high school. I felt that familiar, unwelcome heaviness in my legs and by the time I reached the top of Heartbreak, I had slowed considerably. I concentrated on just maintaining my pace and shooting for the 3:20. Six point two miles to go--"OK, this is just like doing the Skunk 10K." 5.2 miles--"Why am I doing this?!" 4.2 miles--"Is this ever going to end??" 3.2 miles--"This is just like the tempo run I do every week. Keep going." Doing the math as I went by each mile marker, I knew I'd have to work it to reach my goal. 2.2 miles--"You're almost there! Two miles is nothing." I skipped the last water stop at mile 25 and just kept running down Commonwealth, feeling like I had more left than last year but still wishing it were over. People's deafening cheers helped me keep going.

I glanced at my watch as I turned the 2nd to last corner. I had to run the last 3/10 to 4/10th's of a mile in 3? minutes to reach my goal. I thought of Leland & the Salvadoreos for whom I was raising money--"Sweetie, Salvadoreos, Sweetie, Salvadoreos"--and tried to pick up the pace. (OK, so lactic acid makes me cheesy.) Turning onto Boylston for the final stretch, I saw the Boston Marathon banner for the 3rd time. It still takes an eternity to reach it! I kicked it in and crossed the finish in 3:19:38. I was thrilled to have reached my goal and to have improved my PR by 6 minutes. I finished 3, 257th overall, 269th woman, and 215th in my division. Congrats to other Highnooners for their races!

After the marathon, two friends and I headed to the Russian Steam Baths in Chelsea, a 106-year-old establishment that caters to local working class folks, many of whom are immigrants. Lucky for us, Mondays are their only Ladies' Night. Noticing the marathon medal around my neck, the owner said, "You get in for free!" We definitely got to experience the local culture!! The steam baths and pampering were a wonderful ending to another memorable Boston experience.

-- Esther Prins