It’s been a month since I ran the Boston Marathon. I haven’t given it much thought since. Life goes on, as it always does. This past Saturday night, my husband Matt and I were out with friends. With orders placed and cocktails in hand, we settled into a rhythm of getting caught up.
“We haven’t seen you since before the race. How did Boston go?” my friend asked.
I skimmed through the same somewhat muted response I’ve given others who have asked—
“Overall, it went ok…. not as well as I had hoped but…the positive side is…”
Matt (always my best publicist), jumped in with his added context.
“She did great…she requalified again for Boston…she moved up in place...”
I recognize he raises valid points. I’m also nothing but grateful for the experience. Also, marathons are hard.
At the same time, my result felt disappointing to me based on my expectations.
(Insert here the obligatory caveat that being disappointed about your finish time in the Boston Marathon falls incredibly low on the list of things in life to be disappointed about.)
The day before the marathon, my coach had called me for a pre-race chat. As I sat on the bed in my Boston hotel room, legs up and electrolyte drink in hand, she asked me what my goal was. I was hesitant to answer because I didn’t want to go into this race with a specific time goal. Though I knew my training had gone well, I was more chasing a feeling and a way of running. I replied with a reasonable time range that felt both possible and highly likely.
I turned the question around to my coach asking her what she thought. She gave me an answer that was considerably more optimistic than I would even allow myself to consider.
Though I knew it was what the training “data” implied was possible, I set that goal aside. I would play it safer than that. I knew that even if I ran at a slower pace than I had trained at, a PR was very possible.
Spoiler alert: it was not a PR Day.
Despite starting conservatively, I never settled into (or even close to) my goal marathon pace that had come naturally in my many long training runs. And, by mile 18, I was struggling with nausea, despite following the same fueling plan that I had practiced meticulously leading up to the race.
I’ve run many marathons. I know that even on a good day, a marathon is an exercise in increasing suffering. But when a PR or an “A” goal for a race is still on the table, it’s easier to push through the pain towards a goal that is yet attainable. It’s harder to chase after minutes and seconds when an ideal race is falling apart. When the outcome will be less than what I had hoped and worked for no matter how I move forward.
And yet – the clock stops for no one.
Instead of fighting for an ideal result – I was fighting for the best result in less-than-ideal circumstances. The nausea wasn’t going away. The only choice was how to move forward.
Seeping in discomfort, it’s tempting to give in. To start walking or pull to the side for a few minutes. But that would only allow the experience to unravel further.
It’s a continued practice in choosing forward.
In short: I moved forward as best I could. I did my best to stay present in the experience. I turned right on Hereford and left on Boylston--the most famous turn in all of marathoning. I crossed the finish line and then threw up. Both a relief.
And even though the result was less than I had hoped for, I still ran another Boston qualifying time on a tough day on a hilly course. Which I do recognize is something to celebrate. Expectations be da#ned.
I don’t have a simple answer as to why I had such an off day.
But the reality is, no matter how hard you train for a marathon, there are no guarantees.
Which makes it perfect practice for being human.
Because after the marathon buzz wore off and I left behind the inspiring spirit of Boston during marathon weekend, I returned to the regular routines of life. To a world that feels like it’s falling apart – to a deep personal disappointment and to wars and injustices and political polarization and climate change. All have no simple answers.
In life too, there are no guarantees. Keeping expectations in check can’t save you from disappointment either.
And yet - the clock stops for no one.
Things fall apart. They always will. And as they do, the only choice is between giving in or regrouping and creating the best way forward.
Here’s to choosing forward.