For the past 4-5 months, Mr. P had been mentioning this “early spring” (actually late winter) road marathon that he signed for. He was training hard to run it speedy enough to qualify for the 2019 Boston Marathon before he began long, slow ultra training for most of the rest of 2018.
I can barely keep track of my own running calendar. So every time he alluded to this race, I needed reminding: “When is it again?” (The first weekend in March). “Where is it again?” (The seacoast of Rhode Island). I’d offer a wifely smile of encouragement while processing this information — the perilous time of year, and location, and the fact that Mr. P hoped to run in 3 hours, 20 minutes — and think to myself that the whole endeavor would likely be a shitshow.
The spate of good weather throughout February looked amendable to a fast marathon… and then March hit and a “bomb cyclone” nor’easter appeared in the forecast for last Friday, two days before the race. The storm battered New England with intense rain, coupled with 50 mph wind gusts that uprooted trees and storm tide surges that flooded the coast. Incidentally, my father and stepmother were driving up from Pennsylvania for a weekend visit literally during the storm, which certainly proves that they are not wimps, driving close to 7 hours during a historic storm — I had colleagues who worked from home rather than drive 20 minutes into the office.
By Saturday the rain stopped, but it was still helluva windy… still, Mr. P’s convictions were just as forceful. We planned to stay in nearby Mystic, CT on Saturday night for the mid-morning Sunday start. Since Little Boy’s grandparents were coming with us and could watch him, I looked at the race’s other distances (4 miles or half marathon) with interest. The 4 miler was more tempting because I had not tapered and my legs are pretty beat up from my own marathon training. Plus, it being last minute, the race prices were steep: the 4 miler was $45 and the half marathon was $80. Though it cost more per mile, I ultimately opted for the 4 miler, as my main objective was to join Mr. P at the starting line and a few miles for moral support.
After spending Saturday night at the world’s least soundproofed Holiday Inn, Mr. P and I drove 20 minutes to the starting line. It was windy and surprisingly cold. Like, this was a winter wind.
What am I doing here?!
All of the races started at the same time and followed the same course through the seaside beach community of Misquamicut, which had seen some flooding from the nor’easter. One of the cool things about Mr. P running a marathon and me running 4 miles is that our paces were essentially the same at 7:30 min/miles. As we strode next to each other in a sea of very fit people, I realized just how slow I am compared to Mr. P in road running, who by virtue of his training, his genetic slow-twitch muscles, and his gender is just on another level. I admired his tenacity to attempt this run in the tough windy conditions, and at times found myself pushing to keep up with him.
But when I hit mile 3, I took off in a 7 minute mile pace, offering a wave and silent prayer. Unfortunately, the course turned out to be 4.4 miles according to my watch, so the last “mile” was exquisitely painful. As I barreled to the finish line, I saw my father and Little Boy standing at the finish line. I finished in 31:46, which is not bad considering the extra distance, and earned me first in my age group.
Post-race, on the beach with Little Boy
We went back to the hotel so I could shower and change, and then headed back to the race in time to see Mr. P finish. A few other marathoners crossed the finish line while we waited, including the first two women, and it was clear that it had been a brutal race for all.
Kathrine Switzer, the first woman to run the Boston Marathon, once said “If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon.” There is no such thing as an easy marathon, but certainly there are some that are harder than others. Mr. P finished around 3:30 — 10 minutes slower than he wanted, but I could not have been prouder of his strength and resolve.
Next year though, I think he will head South for his “early spring” marathon.
