It was my first Boston. If you would’ve told me a year prior that I’d be in Athletes Village shielding myself from the rain before embarking on my second marathon, I’d probably laugh at you.
Second marathon? Wait. There was a first one?
A year prior I had no desire to try my hand at the distance. Boston? Yeah, no. At this point I’d been competing (albeit relatively mediocrely) for about 10 years. I was in what I’d like to call my sabbatical of running, a 2 year stretch where my own running would be pub runs throughout the city. No structure, no goals, just running with the intention to enjoy this again.
Through this time I met a lot of people in the community and being one of the faster pub runners I’d often get the question.
Have you run a marathon?
No way dude.
Typically the conversation would change fairly quickly but a few choice times I was met with the well you don’t know about running until you’ve run a marathon schtick.
Needless to say, that didn’t help the cause too much.
I signed up for my first marathon out of spite, and because one of my good friends was attempting to qualify that weekend. And it was 70 bucks.
I’d qualify for Boston and then not sign up.
Well that didn’t happen.
I traveled to my first Boston alone. I didn’t know who else was running or realistically what time to even shoot for. This one be a one and done. I’d found a training group that Fall and I was ready to get back to taking it seriously. As with most mid 20s post college guys, I figured I’d stick to the 10k/Half Marathon.
I traveled this weekend with my mom, brother, and a friend I had met through instragram that by chance had been staying in the same hotel as I was. He was coming from Mexico City, had no idea where to get around, and had issues with seeing a bit in the dark. I happily offered to have him tag along with our group.
Having someone else there doing this for the first time helped ease the nerves. His reason was powerful, in memory of his brother. Kind of put things in perspective here. That aura of gratefulness and humility helped soften me a bit.
As I made my way to our respective corrals I began to get overwhelmed by the sea of humanity around me. This was by far the largest race I’d ever been a part of and I was a bit intimidated.
Before I had a chance to spiral, I saw a familiar face. A guy with a New Mexico singlet? Of course it was Russell, a CMS athlete I’d competed against in undergrad
As I made early aggressive moves that would eventually seal my fate I passed a crew of gentlemen wearing the same singlet I wore for my first marathon.
That’s Fine Track Club
Oh shoot! It’s Paul Balmer!
As I cratered over the final 10 kilometers, a victim of my own naïveté, I remember seeing the same two singlets a Dark Blue one and a George Mason. Keying off of those kept me in it when it got dark. I limped off the line with a bruised ego by an almost 7 minute personal best. I made sure to grab a photo with them afterwards.
Over 2 years later, I was back on the line.
As we packed like sardines in the first corral I found another familiar singlet. Pittsburgh Track Club! We all shuffled in and realized we had a similar goal, sub 2:30. Alright. Let’s get after it.
In those early miles it was Noah, a former Buckeye, who kept me company for those early miles. It’s tough to not let the energy of the day pull you into the deep but having someone there with me brought levity to those early miles.
As we passed the scream tunnel I took a look around at the state of our pack. Another familiar face, Thaer! We basked in the craziness that that the crowd provided before the weight of the first half proved to be too much.
As our pack imploded over the second half I found myself fighting silently with a gent in electric blue. We matched each other stride for stride as our respective bodies began to splinter under the stress of the distance. I’d like to think there was a common understanding that our quest to break that barrier had closed but with that cruel clock still ticking we both made our best attempt to finish strong.
Another failure, but a course PR.
6 months later I was back. Two times beaten, but determined to get one on the board.
This time I wanted to be in control of a race plan. I posted it on Instragram the day prior and had a couple of guys that were happy to join in trying to attack that 2:30 barrier. We stayed together in the parking lot behind CVS that morning, our bus getting lost and leaving us closer to the start than expected. It didn’t feel like a race morning as Jamey, Chris, Liam, and I were just all fairly relaxed, or at least gave off the vibe that we were.
We may have broken away from each other (I had to jump in a bush early at mile 1 to pee), but having some familiar people to be with before lining up was a welcome break from the nerves. I would go on to break 2:30 for the first time with a 2:28:23. My race plan worked spectacularly as I went out the slowest out of any sub 2:30 guy that day (75:10) and brought it home strong.
2023 I was a different runner. After a 2:23 at Chicago I wanted to be aggressive. Coach had a plan for 71 minutes. Early on I attempted to go with a group. They were out too fast. As I floated through no mans land I heard a familiar voice.
Ope!
Bromka had pulled up alongside me. My brain had started to haywire as I struggled to settle into 5:25 pace but his guidance and calm demeanor helped me reframe and relax. It was a long race and there was still so much work to do. I stopped looking at the watch and focused on just racing and feeling it out. Eventually I was able to put it back together and start chasing.
Miles later I battled back and forth with a stranger from Heartbreak Hill Running Company. We kept each other sharp when things got tough and as I began to falter he would gesture at me to latch on, if we were going to hurt let’s at least have company.
I would go on to run a new personal best that day in 2:23:28. An almost even split.
7 years ago I couldn’t imagine that I’d be sitting here typing this up before my fifth Boston Marathon. While the challenge and humbling those first times out kept me trying, the community that I found on the course is what kept me coming here. At this point running a massive personal best at Boston is far from likely so why pay all this money to run a race on a course that isn’t super fast?
It’s because as a racer, Boston presents one of the best experiences to challenge yourself and fellow competitors. Boston can even the playing field. It can make for heartbreaks as much as it can make for breakthroughs. It can humble even the GOATs just like it can humble a novice. You race the course, not the time on the clock here. If you’re lucky you get a nice day too. In the sea of competitors I have formed friendships, celebrated, commiserated, and fought with whatever our bodies had left. There is a beauty in building these friendships with strangers as you make your journey to Boylston.
Tomorrow I’ll find comfort in familiarity. Comfort in the course. Comfort in the high spirits that comes with seeing friends you haven’t seen in years. Excitement in the possibility to see surprises. I don’t know what Boston has in store tomorrow but I’m excited to take on those challenges and hopefully come away with more stories to tell.
If it’s your first Boston and you feel alone in the thousands of bibs, lean on to others. Work together, fight together, and if the cards play out right, celebrate together. The human spirit is tougher when others are there with it. It may not be the silver bullet, but it may just be what you need to keep you fighting when things get hard.
To those racing, best of luck. Let’s have some fun out there.
Beers and Miles 