Boston.... One Thousand One, One Thousand Two.... No Boston

Before the St. George, Utah marathon, a good friend reassured me that it doesn't rain in Utah, and it tends not to have the kind of wind we have in central Illinois. AJ also told me that she had yet to see a tarantula in the outdoors of Utah. My experience in Utah was about to disprove all three of these "stats".

When I stepped outside of our condo in St. George on race morning, I was surprised to find it was sprinkling. I quickly ran back inside to grab my Boston marathon hat. Once at the marathon finish area, all of the runners boarded buses for the trek 26.2 miles up the canyon. The rain began to fall harder and the wind picked up. The temperature also dropped from the warm 72 degrees in St. George to probably 20 (or more) degrees cooler at the start area. Since there was no shelter from the rain, most of us tried to stay warm and dry using whatever we could (a mylar blanket from a previous marathon for me).

Once the race began, we had to reluctantly toss aside throw-away layers, garbage bags and mylar blankets in order to run. By mile 2 I told myself this would most likely not be a day for a Boston Marathon qualifying time. Even though I let go of my firm grip/attachment exactly what my race would look like, I did not let go of my pace. I decided to just run what I could run.

I was running with the 4:15 pace group. Our pace group leader said that we would be running fairly even splits except at the "big hill" called Veyo hill at Mile 7. We would be slowing down on the 4 mile section from mile 7-11. I pulled ahead of the pace group around Mile 5. I was running well within myself, and thought this would provide a nice cushion on the hills if I needed it.

I was surprised to see how big "the hill" was when I first saw what was in front of me. We don't have hills like that in Illinois. I was surprised when I arrived at Mile 11 without the 4:15 pace group catching up to me. Apparently I am a better hill runner than I thought. My five weeks of hill training paid off. This gave me time for a much needed porta-potty stop. When I stepped out of the porta-potty, being tempted to stay in the warmth it provided, I saw the 4:15 pace group which had just passed by while I was inside.

I was greeted at Mile 16 by my own cheering section consisting of my husband, Howard and my sister, Shelley, both nicely outfitted in rain ponchos. I pulled over alongside of them and told them I was doing ok, but freezing. Once I continued running they agreed that I looked so cold, they doubted I would be able to get my goal time.

I was truly suffering from the cold, the rain and the constant headwind on this point-to-point course. I stopped twice at a Bengay/massage station between Mile 13 and Mile 22. My leg muscles were so cold, I knew I had to find some way to stay warm. Even though this cost me a couple of minutes, I knew without doing something I would only slow down.

By Mile 22 I was surprised to look at my watch, do some quick math calculations and realize I could still get the Boston Marathon qualifying time. I was going to have to hustle to do it and the next four miles were really going to hurt. I put my head down, ran hard down the remaining downhills and went for it.

As I came into the finish line area, I heard Howard and Shelley cheering for me. I only gave them a quick glance and a "I think I made it" as I ran for the finish. I stopped my watch. It showed 4:15:58 - one second within the qualifying time I needed (you have the extra 59 seconds, so unless it ticked over to 4:16, I got the time).

Shelley and Howard actually didn't think I did have the time because of already seeing the 4:15 pace leader come in. However, they didn't know exactly when I crossed the start line or how much he came in under 4:15 (4:14:30). We had to wait until we could verify my finish time online much later that evening.

My time? 4:15:57! Two seconds to spare. Boston here I come!