Boston Marathon: Swimming from Hopkinton to Boylston

Worst weather since 2007: torrential rain and 30mph headwinds. Coldest weather since 1970: lows of 38F. I was soaked under my poncho before I even hit the start line and couldn’t feel my feet for the first some odd miles. 

And it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I play it over and over in my head: the sudden downpours every time I thought I was “comfortably” soggy; the drenched volunteers and spectators who never stopped cheering; the glee of seeing my family and friends and getting powered up by hugs. 

Hitting the half, hitting the 20, seeing the family at 22 and then flying. I felt surprisingly good: a few twinges, some discomfort, but nothing that stayed with me. I didn’t really feel the hills, I was surprised; maybe it was delirium. I did give myself a minute or two to walk one of the Newton Hills, but was afraid to give myself too much leeway, in case my legs stopped working. 

Then, the last 4 miles - I felt like I was flying. I was laughing in final deluge I’d run through, and crying, hearing and seeing the ecstatic, roaring spectators. I couldn’t believe how good I felt, how strong my body felt. My body and I have a tenuous, contentious relationship, so for us to be working in tandem, to be allowed to let go and just fly - I cried and ran with all my heart. 

Right on Hereford, over the street I couldn’t see what with all the discarded plastic ponchos; left on Boylston, and the finish line that was so much farther away than I thought it would be. It felt like the crowd was there just for me.

I ran the last mile in 8 minutes and 7 seconds. I negative split the marathon, running the second half almost 11 minutes faster than the first. And despite the rain and the cold, I beat my time goal of 4h 30m, finishing with a time of 4:26:22 and a 10:10 average mile.