I prepared, I came, I saw, and yes—my hamstring and I conquered Boston!
It was a victory! The focused care and attention to my hamstring, the extra rest, and the diligence of Radical Self Care paid off. I ran pain-free and finished strong!
I’ve recovered quickly and have resumed training for my next marathon in just a few weeks (Seattle Rock N Roll on June 26th). I continue to receive additional care, am working on the core imbalances which created the hamstring pain, and I am left with a love of Boston, admiration for the ability to heal, and deep gratitude to my body for coming through like a champ.
I made it to the starting line and my goal was simply to finish. I knew there was a risk of being foolish and finishing injured. Boston is as much a psychological test as a physical test for many reasons:
- Everyone who is there is rooting for you: In every race, the excitement and cheering can be so motivating you can start off too fast and burn up your energy too quickly, leaving your reserves and your muscles toasted by mile 20.
- When running downhill, it’s easy to run too fast: With Boston’s course specifically, compounding the excitement of running the premier running event in the United States is the fact that the bulk of the course is downhill, which makes it easy to let your pace quicken, taxing both muscles and fuel reserves.
- Running downhill tears muscle tissue more aggressively due to increased impact of braking against the pull of gravity.
GOAL: STAY FUELED, STAY PRESENT, STAY INJURY-FREE
As the race began I had a huge surge of awe, pride, and accomplishment. “Holy smokes! I’m at the Boston marathon! I made it! I made it!” Along the start large pockets of supporters cheer for the first few miles as I blink back tears thinking of all I have experienced to get to this moment. The roadside bars are open with breakfast specials and people are lined up outside, whooping and hollering as they wave their red plastic cups about. The first six miles along the course the aroma of charcoal and grilled meat is thick in the air. It’s Marathon Monday and the small towns outside of Boston have shown up, set up the barbeque, and started grilling! It’s a big party, and I’m running past all of it checking my split times like I’m the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland.
The initial half of the race was holding back, staying moderate, and watching for aches and pains. I felt pretty good at the halfway point, albeit the consistent downhill grade was definitely taxing. The course is a steady downhill grade for about 16 miles, until you hit the beginning of what will be Heartbreak Hill. By mile 16 it was all a mental game – distracting myself from the fatigue that was settling in, trying to stay on pace and stay positive. Around mile 16 the course changes to a gradual climb, peaking at Heartbreak Hill at mile 21. From there it is a pretty rapid descent into downtown Boston for the finish.
I had heard that these inclines that will fool you from 16-20… you approach your first hill in the race and think, “this is Heartbreak Hill!”, but it isn’t. There is a flat stretch and then again you climb – “this must be it!” — no dice. It’s the 3rd incline just after 19 miles which finally leads to Heartbreak Hill at mile 20.5. By this time, if you’re unaware of your surroundings you may have drained your remaining energy on the previous hills. Crossing the starting line with this knowledge was really helpful; I simply climbed and told myself – “This isn’t it, yet”, and said this again and again until the next thing I knew a group of cheerers off to the left had a large sign excitedly proclaiming we had reached the top of Heartbreak Hill. My thought was, “Oh? That was it? Oh, okay! It’s all downhill from here!”
I was also blessed with a small group of personal supporters who were waiting for me at mile 19 or so. I was absorbed in my own mind, focusing on staying positive and on pace despite discouragement creeping in. I ran past a wild splash of color which grabbed my attention; it was a series of five hand-painted rooster posters. “WHOA,” I thought. “Roosters!” (Roosters hold a special significance for me.) I looked up to see a dear friend of mine holding a poster and I go completely ballistic—those roosters are for me! I shout out to him and the surge of love and support from that sighting filled me with vast amounts of energy to get to the top of the final hill.
Despite the perfect timing of personal support, the impact of all the downhill running was taking its toll. I checked in at 22 miles as I ran past Boston College to see if my body was ready to punch it up to the finish and found myself fatigued, but pain-free. I opted to continue a moderate pace for 2 more miles despite the wildly excited cheering at the college. By far this was the best cheering section on course—several people thick and quite loud. With 4 miles left, I narrowed my focus on concentration, keeping my stride, my form, and my body in check. Someone again told me I had a nice shirt (I heard that a few times from the crowd and volunteers), and all was lost to the tunnel vision that enveloped me. I saw the Citgo sign, which signaled 2 miles left. The crowd here was thick, several people deep, and they were hollering and shouting and cheering wildly. In this last stretch, I let the crowd pump me up, and I dropped my pace progressively by 15 seconds/mile for the last 3 miles.
I had 23 miles under my belt, and my hamstring was just fine. The front of my legs were beginning to feel that familiar sensation of impeding cramping, but it wouldn’t be for some time. I no longer saw nor heard the crowds around me—I just repeated the following words to myself: “Stay steady, stay strong…steady, strong” over and over again like a mantra as I continuously checked in with my body’s state. The increased effort under fatigue led to an overall tightening and so my mantra changed: “Nice and easy, nice and easy” until my shoulders relaxed and my stride lengthened and again—“steady and strong, steady, strong.”
There was a turn to the right for the final stretch. As I hit mile 26 I surged forward again for an all out effort at the last quarter mile. I saw nothing, heard nothing but the four words, “strong, steady, nice, easy” as I kept an eagle eye ahead looking for the finish. Nausea was creeping in and I kept going. I recall nothing from taking that turn to the right and crossing the finish line – it was just an all-out push forward to finish with what I had left in me.
As I crossed and slowed to a walk, I noticed that my legs were holding up well. I wouldn’t cramp up if I continued to move. Course support checked in to see if I was okay—aside from a touch of nausea, I felt pretty good! My mind turned to replenishing my body with coconut water, cherry juice, rice protein and extra herbal and antioxidant support—all being securely held for me by my rooster-painting friends.
The days leading up to the race had been poignant and powerful, so in my mind I was certain that I would be overcome with emotion at the finish. And while I was elated, I was grounded in the sense of pride in a job well done—I hadn’t let my ego take hold when I flirted with the idea of qualifying for Boston while at Boston, I stayed keenly aware of my body and its needs, yet challenged myself for nearly 4 hours, crossing the finish line without a peep of pain and with strength and energy to spare. I ran a good, solid race and am looking forward to the next one!
AIMEE GALLO is a marathon runner, indoor cycling coach, holistic nutrition counselor and personal trainer. When not out pursuing her athletic goals, Aimee is busy with her company, Vibrance Nutrition and Fitness, helping her clients meet their fitness and nutrition goals by utilizing a mind, body, and spirit approach… {more »}
