(Me crossing the finish line)
I first attempted the Challenge in 2007 (see the post about it here). I had been going to the gym, doing a cardio regime, but not running. I walked the whole thing, and the experience was miserable. I started at the end of the pack, so by the time I crossed the start line (there's about 10,000 entrants to this race), the winner was already turning the corner to finish. Walkers gave up and would cut across the street (the course was up and back Comm Ave), or just give up completely. By the time I got into Kenmore Square, I was dead last. Water tables had packed up and left. The ambulance followed me all the way to the finish line. But, I made it across the finish line. I was determined to run it the next time.
Then there were obstacles. Miscarriages. Pregnancies. Babies. Finally, five years later, I was ready to try again.
I would love to write I trained my ass off, and ran the whole 3.5 miles and fulfilled my promise. Part of the Chasing Chubby experience is that not everything is what you want it to be, but you need to celebrate it anyway.
Trying to train with babies in your life is hard. If you are planning on getting up at 5 AM to run, the baby doesn't know that when they wake up screaming at 2:30 and keep you up until 4. There's more sickness with kids, too, so if you're sick there's no running.
Most of the time, I was lucky if I got out twice a week to run. Even then, I wasn't running more than a mile solid. The week before the race I was up in Maine, my runs weren't more than a mile, and with the heat and humidity I was walking as well as running. I started to panic about the Challenge, and contemplated dropping out because I couldn't fulfill my goal of running the whole thing.
The Monday before the race, I realized that giving up because of that would be a piss-poor reason to drop out of the race. That morning I decided to try and run three miles; the farthest I'd gone since having my son. I got out there, and did a run/walk combo that I accomplished without difficulty. I finished the three miles in under an hour. That's how I would do the challenge: walking and running.
The day of the race, I worked out my plan. I brought up a map of the race course, and plotted out half-mile intervals where I would switch from walking to running. I would be running two miles, and walking one and a half. I went through the course on Google Maps streetview so I wouldn't panic on the course on where to switch. Finally, as I geared up for the race, I wrote the plan on my arm:
This time, I didn't line up at the back of the pack with the walkers; I learned my lesson last time. Even so, when the gun went off it took a good five minutes to cross the start line on Charles Street, and that was walking. It wasn't until we turned onto Beacon the pace picked up. By the time we hit Arlington there was room to start jogging, FINALLY!
I did great up to my first checkpoint at Berkeley. I dropped to a walk even though my race-brain wanted to GO! GO! GO! I knew better from experience. If I wanted to cross the finish line running, I needed to be consistent and stick with the plan.
I hit Fairfield, and started running again. At the one-mile water table, my best friend Rebecca and her daughter were waiting to hand me refreshment. Rebecca cheered me on as I kept going. I was still feeling good when I got to the overpass that goes under Mass Ave. I ran down it, but decided to walk back up to conserve energy. This brought me to Charlesgate, which was my walking part anyway. At the 1.5 mile mark, there was water, but whole bottles. I did not want to chug, so I was taking a mouthful and in the most un-ladylike way spitting it out.
After turning around in Kenmore Square (Hello, Fenway!), I picked up the pace again. Now I was starting to feel some exhaustion. Jogging to Exeter felt daunting, so I decided to now adopt a new plan: ran when I felt I could do it, walk when I needed to rest. I was running when I passed Rebecca and her daughter again (the water station moved across to get the runners coming back), and I thankfully got more water and encouragement. I kept going.
At Arlington, I knew it was the home stretch. I moved back into a running mode. I turned onto Boylston. It was a little congested with walkers and tourists, so I slowed back down. Then I hit Charles Street. This was it; I took a deep breath, and hit it. I crossed the finish line running. I was done!
I was extremely proud of myself. I went out with some coworkers, got home, and slept feeling like a rock star.
The next day, I got to work, hung my bib up (now my fourth in a growing collection), and looked up my stats from the race to see how I had improved in four years.
2007: 1:04:37
2012: 1:04:37
The exact same time. Down to the SECOND.
The pride inside deflated. How did I perform exactly the same when I added running this time around? I started looking for anomalies. I checked the app I use on my iPhone to look at my stats. Anything to prove to me I did better, that I'm improving.
At the end of the day, none of those numbers are going to do it. I need to hold on to that sense of pride and accomplishment I felt on both the nights in '07 and '12. I crossed a finish line. It might not have been a PR-setting race, but it's been a race that is part of who I am as a runner.
I will do the race again, and I'll cross the finish line again, no matter how I get there.
