900 Miles and a Sweet Skirt

I’m finishing up my breakfast at a trendy coffee shop/book store on Newbury Street in Boston when I get an email from the Boston Athletic Association strongly advising registrants to reconsider running Monday’s 116^th Boston Marathon due to extreme heat.  Race organizers recommended that only the fittest runners consider participating in the race and that they would give runners the opportunity to defer participation until 2013 (which has only happened one other time in history). 

Only the “fittest runners?” Well, that’s sort of arbitrary, I thought.  By whose standards?  Before this email, I thought I was fit.  I had spent 20 weeks glued to a professionally-developed training plan that made my past training seem like child’s play.  I ran precisely-timed intervals, I sprinted up hills, I logged almost 900 miles.  I invested in an expensive Garmin watch so I could measure everything and use these metrics to my advantage.  I ran, I dreamed about running, I researched running, and then I ran even more.  But did all this work add up to the definition of one of the “fittest runners?”  Was I prepared to run a 26.2 mile race as fast as I could in 88 degrees, midday sun, and humidity? 

As I stood there reading the email, I felt the sun on my neck and the temperatures rising.  My choices flash across my mind like an old movie reel.  If I’ve misjudged whether I’m among the fittest, running the race could result in my getting very sick or even risking death. Deferring until 2013 would have me leaving Boston as a quitter and a coward – albeit a living, breathing quitter-coward.  Or, running could result in one of the most life-changing experiences of my life.  Although decision-making is usually one of my strengths, this one requires a call to my older brother, Ross, to help me validate my decision.  “You know what you need to do,” he said.  “You trained for this and you’re ready.  You’re tough.  If you start the race, run smart, and finish, I guarantee you will race better than most.  Go out there and show everyone just how tough you are.” And there you have it.  Decision made.

The RunningPretty Gladiator

I would run the 116^th Boston Marathon and run it smart.  There would be no PR for me this year.  No sub-3:30 because that would not be smart.  That’s a goal to be achieved on the best of days, in the most pristine conditions.  This race would be run on grit, not glory.  Waiting to board the bus in Boston Commons, I say goodbye to my friend and companion, Brenda, and start thinking about my strategy.  I know that it’ll be a race run mostly in my head.  So, I start assembling the people I want to think about along the way who will give me energy.  And, about the devoted spectators along the route who will give me strength.  Today, they will know my name because Brenda has written it in Sharpie on my arms and my stomach. 

For this race, there will be no layers of clothing to toss to the side as I tick off the miles.  I’m wearing only my RunningPretty Gladiator skirt and race top and at the start I’m already glistening with sweat.  I always believe that RunningPretty gives me strength and I’ve written about that many times before.  But on this day and this Boston, RunningPretty brought me joy.  As I ran along, I was baffled by how many strangers were standing in the oppressive heat, screaming their hearts out, and yelling MY name.  “Go Callie.  You rock the skirt girl!”  “Awesome job Callie, you look so strong.  Love your skirt!” I was actually giddy.  They love my skirt, I beamed.  Even though I was drenched in a cocktail of water, Gatorade and sweat, I even heard one guy on Heartbreak Hill say, “Hey, she’s like a purple Roman Goddess!  Go Callie!”

I don’t know, but I think the 900 miles paid off.  I finished the race.  I can now claim to be one of the fittest runners.  Oh, and I can also safely say that I was the top runner in the Boston Marathon wearing RunningPretty and smiling all the way to the finish line.