I have commitments from The Woodlands'
Vincent Attanucci and
Ann Leoni - both Run The Woodlands 5K veterans -- to provide race reports of their first
Boston Marathon experiences (whenever they have time).
In addition, I hope that there are others that I know who will be willing to share -- especially if there is not another outlet for them. One of the individuals who coached a number of Boston Marathon participants through his involvement with Team In Training is Spring's
Bill Dwyer.
It is a real treat to be able to share with you so quick Monday's experience of The Woodlands'
Dana-Susan Crews. On her debut marathon this past January in the
Chevron Houston Marathon, Dana-Susan, 36, finished in
3:43:20 and qualified for Boston. Her husband,
Bill, 39, also ran the marathon stopping the clock in
3:50:42. Just three months before, he finished his longest triathlon ever -- the
Iron Star Triathlon Half-Ironman in Montgomery.
Just two years before, on October 14, 2003, Bill, at the age of 37, had been diagnosed with stage four non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. A writer in her professional life, Dana-Susan wrote about Bill's story which appeared in the March 2006 edition of
"Triathlete" (pages 32 & 34).
But below is her Boston story -- lengthy, but a great read -- and I'm honored to be able to share it with athletes like yourself who read this blog on a regular basis! (Thanks and congratulations to Dana-Susan as well as her coach, Bill Dwyer, for faciliting this!)
"After having slept very well, I woke up on my own, looked at the clock which read 5:00 a.m. and tried to go back to sleep. But I just wasn’t sleepy anymore so I got up, drank half a cup of coffee and decided to have a nice warm bath. I felt the windows and knew it was cold out and realizing I’d be spending the next several hours in the cold wind, I knew a bath like this would be a good start to marathon day. After slowly dressing, I decided I would leave early to catch the subway to Boylston. My time to load the bus was 8:00 a.m. but I arrived an hour early to hear the volunteer tell me he didn’t care what my bib number was, only the color. I was pointed toward my corral where I would stand with thousands of other shivering athletes awaiting the yellow school bus that would take us to Hopkinton.
"I met Paula from Cape Cod who was running her 7th Boston. She was a godsend. We hit it off great and then Gail from Ohio joined us. The three of us spent 40 minutes in the frigid morning talking and laughing. Gail was doing her second Boston and they continued to remark how cold they were and wondered how a Texas girl like me was handling it all. I simply responded, “I’m pretty cold, y’all”.
"Finally we boarded our bus. Paula told me not to pay any attention to the seemingly endless trip to the start of the race. “They actually go more like 38 miles taking the highway like this,” she said. She and I spent the bus ride talking about our kids. Hers are competitive swimmers like mine. We talked about triathlons because she’d like to do one someday, but just like me, she “hates” the bike. We concluded that aquathons might be more our style and after what seemed like the longest road trip, we made it to Hopkinton’s Athlete Village. This was the first year ever that the Boston Marathon would have two wave starts, the first at the traditional noon and the second at 12:30. Having bib number 15073, I was in the second wave. We arrived at the athlete’s village at about 7:30 a.m. We were amongst the first to arrive in wave two’s village so there was no line for the food. We grabbed bagels and water and a cup of Gatorade. Paula laid out her tarp on the cold wet grass under the tent and we girls sat together eating, laughing and freezing. Soon Lynda from Maine joined us. Like me, she qualified for Boston on her first ever marathon so Boston was only her second. She and I understood each other’s nerves and lack of experience. Paula and Gail had done multiple marathons and had all kinds of advice to offer for which I was deeply appreciative. Still, having only done one other marathon only three months before, I felt sort of “virginal”.
"There was some athlete village entertainment including a former American Idol contestant, a Massachusetts police officer who sang opera-style and a slightly amusing emcee who kept on welcoming us to the 110th running of the Boston Marathon and reminding us to go potty before the lines got too long. At one point he let us know which wave went more often. “Wave one has much longer lines in their porta-potties,” he said, “so they should go use wave two’s potties. They just have to pee a lot more.”
"Although I was having great fun with my new girlfriends, I was feeling the cold more and more. I had worn layers of clothing, gloves and a toboggan hat. I had even brought along a blanket, but the winds and overcast skies with a touch of humidity made that cold stick to me. Fortunately I was not feeling nearly so nervous anymore though. To me, the most nerve-racking part was over – just figuring out the subway system, getting onto the right bus and to the start. I was where I needed to be and all I had to do from there was run 26.2 miles to Boston. The hardest part was the waiting in the cold.
"Over and over the emcee announced how many more hours we had til the start, always doing the math for us. “Wave one starts the 110th running of the Boston Marathon in one hour and 45 minutes and wave two starts the 110th running of the Boston Marathon in two hours and 15 minutes,” he said. When we stood to hear the national anthem, it got quiet for the first and only time all day. Thousands of runners stood to hear our country’s anthem. One older gentleman to my right sang it loudly with his hand on his heart. He seemed very emotionally moved by it all. He was the only one singing and although he sang well, I felt myself wanting to laugh, but I controlled the urge.
"Then it was time for wave one to head to the start. I have no idea how long their hike to the corrals was. Soon after, the funny emcee said, “wave one, if you can hear my voice, you’re gonna be very late. You should not hear me at all. Wave two, you need to go potty and get ready to line up. If there’s a long line for the potty, you can use wave one’s potties. There’s no line there anymore,” he said. A few minutes later we saw the F1 planes flying overhead. How beautiful! Our funny emcee said, “So amazing and beautiful. Guys, they’ll be at the finish line in five minutes!”
"My new girlfriends and I went potty one last time and grabbed our red plastic bags issued to us at registration, labeled with our names and bib numbers. We walked toward the yellow school buses to look for our bib numbers and hand a volunteer our bag to be picked up 26.2 miles later in the city of Boston. I wished my new friends great luck, turned in my bag after removing my jacket and blanket, and headed toward my corral half a mile away. As I walked past one of the lovely Hopkinton homes, a young man was wishing us luck and laughing “you only got 27 miles to go from here!”
"With 10,000 athletes all making our way to our corrals, it was highly congested. The fans were everywhere mixed in with us near the corner by the gas station. I could not get through to my corral. “You got three minutes,” screamed a volunteer with a thick Boston accent. I was being knocked about by those nervously trying to get to their corral before the gun start. I was getting tired. I’d been up since 5:00 and out in the cold for the past six hours. My muscles were tight, but I was not feeling nervous, just terribly excited to be in this environment filled with zeal – zeal from fans, athletes, volunteers and funny emcees. I was wondering how the “rebels” from The Woodlands were doing in the first wave and finally, I made it to my corral, but it was so packed with runners, I couldn’t get in. One very nervous woman started panicking and telling the volunteers “you have to let us in.”
“If you can get in, come on in,” he smiled. Of course we could not. We had to be patient and remind ourselves that in Boston your official time is your chip time. Good thing, too. The gun went off and I spent five minutes standing there like I’d been doing for hours and hours all morning. Sadly, I realized I was hungry. The bagel from 8 a.m. had worn off and the gel and Gatorade I’d had were just not doing the trick. Then, finally, I squeezed in and started walking to the start line. The big clock said we were already 45 minutes into the race and I was just starting.
"It was quite a thrill. We started off going downhill and it was so amazing seeing thousands and thousands of runners bunched up together heading to Boston. And the fans were absolutely adorable. Children held their little hands out to high-five us. I couldn’t resist and found myself high-fiving everyone I could for 26 miles.
"Now someone, maybe many someones had told me that the first 15 miles of the Boston Marathon were downhill, so imagine my surprise when we started heading uphill in the first mile. One girl next to me said, “Hey, I thought Heartbreak Hill was at mile 20.” I agreed with her. She was from South Carolina and trained in flat areas. I told her I was from Houston and we have no hills either. She and I saw each other several times during the day. time she greeted me with a “Hey there, Houston” and I would say “How’s it goin’, South Carolina”.
"Now, I admit that when you hydrate for a race, you gotta go potty a lot. I went potty before I left for the start and yes, it was a long walk and wait so that by the time we got to the first mile, I can understand why some people needed to go. But I was oh so shocked to see men and women run to the side of the road and go. The men turned their backs, but the women, well, I was flabbergasted! Why, they just pulled their pants down in front of the world and went. “I’d rather it explode out my belly than do a thing like that,” I thought. So I just thanked God I didn’t have to go yet.
"After having run the first mile in what seemed like an eternity, being packed in and hardly able to move, I realized I could shed my sweatshirt. I threw it to the side and felt great and soon after threw away my gloves. Of all the fans, my favorites were the children. “You look so good,” screamed a 5-year-old boy. “Thanks,” I replied and high-fived him. Along the country road, there were bands playing and people passing out all kinds of goodies from popsicles to baby wipes to wet sponges and water or ice. They held up posters and signs with sayings like “only 25 to go” or “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” They held up the latest score in the Red Sox vs. Seattle game happening at Fenway Park as we ran. I was feeling good. The weather couldn’t have been better. Finally the harsh cold wind became ideal marathon weather. I made a very conscious decision to “just have fun” and not worry about my time. I thought about how cool it was to be running the Boston Marathon and I wanted to truly enjoy it every step of the long way.
"I didn’t talk to everyone, but sometimes I would talk to runners around me. I waved to fans. I kept on high-fiving kids. I looked around at the sights of the country towns of Massachusetts. I had fun.
"At every water station, I had to dodge thousands of cups of water and Gatorade in the road and grab myself a cup of each. I would take a few sips of Gatorade and water at each station and carefully walk through the mess on the ground. Every time, I was nearly tripped by other runners grabbing their cups and throwing them down. I didn’t care that I was dodging people and things and making myself even slower. It was all about the fun and glory of the day.
"Mile after mile, I enjoyed it all. I smiled at police officers and little old ladies. I laughed at the funny costumes of fans and even some of the runners. I thanked every volunteer who handed me water or Gatorade and smiled big. And as I got closer to Wellesley I started thinking about my husband. He and Jon’s parents were planning on going to Wellesley together to cheer at the half-marathon point. I thought about how great it would be to see Bill’s face and hoped that with the literally one million fans lining the streets, we’d be able to spot each other. Soon I was in Wellesley. Many of the college girls were away for Easter yet somehow those who remained were just exactly how they’d been described. Their squeals were piercing my ears and I high-fived them too. Many of the girls were holding up signs that said “kiss me” and some of the male runners obeyed. As I got passed them, I looked for Bill, but couldn’t see him anywhere. But there were so many people everywhere. And so much noise! For the miles I ran through Wellesley I looked for Bill, but never saw him. I figured we just missed each other in the crowds and hoped he wouldn’t be too disappointed.
"I’d run more than half the marathon and I was still feeling good. Of course I was beginning to feel some of the small aches and pains all runners feel at that point, but no big deal. And as I approached Newton, I started getting a little excited about the hills. I wondered if they would be as treacherous as I’d heard. I found myself almost as thrilled about running the Newton hills as I was about running the marathon itself. I couldn’t wait to tell my friends back home that I’d conquered Heartbreak Hill. And then, to my great surprise and delight I saw Bill. “Hey, Dana-Sue,” he screamed. I turned to my left and darting out onto the course from the crowds was my husband running toward me with the camera. It was so wonderful to see his face. “You look great,” he smiled. I was sure I looked less than great, but I appreciated his lie. He took my picture and said, “I’ll see you in Boston.” I think that little pick-me-up was the perfect way to enter the hills.
"The first hill was almost too easy. I thought something must have been wrong with me. Maybe I’m so sore and numb that I can’t feel the hills, I thought. But I knew I was approaching the most famous one of all so I tried to go slow and easy and conserve my energy and strength. The crowds became louder and louder. College boys were offering us beer and cigarettes and throwing water balloons at each other and any runner who was ready for some cool refreshing. A couple of young female runners ahead of me were wearing tiny pink skirts and running pretty fast. Those college boys got very loud and excited to see them! The more hilly it got, the louder the crowd got. In the strongest of Boston accents they screamed things like “Go Dana Farber” or “lets do it for Austism” or “come on Children’s Hospital” and if you were wearing your name or the name of your state or country, they’d make it personal. Throughout Newton I heard “Come on Sandy” and “lets go Alaska” so I guess those two were right on my tail through the hills. And there was someone called “Boston Billy” who got a lot of cheers too. But I was not too noticeable until suddenly a runner dressed from head to toe as a gorilla came up beside me and stayed with me for a good mile til we got to Heartbreak Hill. The crowds loved him and cheered loudly for him and since I was “with” him, they high-fived me. I loved watching him try to drink Gatorade and water.
"Then we got to Heartbreak Hill. I only knew I was there by the fact that I’d run 20.5 miles. It really only seemed like the other hills. By that point, I guess my legs were heavy enough that any hill was “just another hill”. But the crowds were louder here than they’d been everywhere but Wellesley thus far. I was feeling strong, not taking it too fast, but feeling like I could have charged it and done well. There were just so many runners and it was hard to get past them. Some runners were struggling. I felt bad for those who started cramping up and had to pull over to the side to stretch. “Oh, God,” I heard one man to my right scream. He was cramping really bad. A fan handed him a water and he sat down to massage his legs. Suddenly I saw other runners doing the same thing. They needed to massage before they could get up that hill. I wondered how much was physical and how much was mental. For me, physically I was fine so I reminded myself of that fact and it all became mental and emotional. I’ve been through much bigger hills in my life mentally and emotionally, so I told good ole Heartbreak Hill to get ready cause I was fixin’ to stomp all over it. And I did. Just like I did the other hills before and ahead.
"From then on, it was just about finishing the race. I knew I was going slow because for the first time ever, I was wearing a watch. I hate running with a watch. I just prefer to run and not worry about the time. But because I was trying to pace myself in the beginning of the race and not take it too fast, I wore my husband’s Garmin. So I knew I was not going as fast as I know how, but somehow, it didn’t matter a bit. In just a few miles I’d cross the finish line. By this time, my feet were beginning to burn and my legs were feeling sort of heavy. I remembered that feeling from three months ago when I did my first marathon ever in Houston. I kept saying things like, “five miles to go. Who can’t do five miles?” Then I’d say, “who can’t do four miles?” It went that way til I hit mile 25. That’s when I started getting excited again, just like I had earlier when I was approaching the hills in Newton. Suddenly I realized that although I was not about to qualify for Boston on this day, I was only a few minutes away from finishing Boston!I was tired and sore, but happy. The crowds were getting unbelievably loud and hyper. There were thousands of them screaming, “only one more mile!” Their spirits were even higher because the Red Sox had won the game against Seattle 7 to 6 and it had been Easter and Patriot’s Day and perfect weather all weekend long. Boston was a happy place.
"Hard to believe there were more hills! But I made it knowing I was almost done. It’s almost hard to soak it all in. Thousands of screaming fans, tired runners hurting and ready to finish, the thrill of approaching the end and the desire to be strong when you get there. I turned right thinking I’d see the finish line, but it wasn’t there. I’d gone 26 miles. Where on Earth was that finish line? It was like a tease and I was not amused. With 385 yards to go, I turned left on Boylston Street and there it was – the big finish line that read “110th Boston Marathon”. There was noise. It seemed so far away, yet so attainable. I got closer and closer and finally I was there. I crossed the finish line. I finished Boston!
"I was glad I had to walk another half-mile to get wrapped in a foil blanket, receive my beautiful medal, grab water and a food bag and look for my bus to grab my bag I’d turned in 26 miles away in Hopkinton. Then I turned around and headed to the family waiting station to the “C’s” to find Bill. When I saw his face, I fell into his chest and loved getting a hug from my favorite man in the universe. He was so wonderful, grabbing my bag for me and congratulating me, telling me how proud he was of me. I thought about how now he knows how proud I was of him when he crossed the “finish line” to complete chemotherapy in his battle against cancer.
"As we began our walk back to the subway, I grabbed his mobile phone to call my second favorite Bill. Coach
Bill Dwyer answered his phone and I said, “I finished!” He told me in his typical Coach Bill style how proud he was. I almost felt like I needed to apologize for finishing in
3:57:28 because I know I can run faster than that. He told me that was awesome so I decided to believe him and be pleased with my time and thankful for my experience.
"It was a mad house at the train station. Marathoners and Red Sox fans packed the place. They were letting runners in free. I walked through, met Bill on the other side and began our ride back to Cambridge. It was a nice walk back to the hotel where I saw
Jon Minor and his parents in the lobby. Jon was fresh and clean having finished in three hours and 17 minutes. They were on their way to celebrate together. I hugged Jon even though I was still in gross, runner clothing and he was clean and smelling good. Then I went to my room, showered and called my sister who’d been text-messaging Bill all day.
"Bill took a picture of me in my medal and we were off again, this time to head to Cheers for food and beer. The place was packed with marathoners all sharing their stories from the day. I especially enjoyed talking to one guy I met from Arizona. We drank a Guiness and headed upstairs to eat fish and chips and of course, have dessert. Bill had Boston crème pie which I thought was very appropriate for where we were. I was just glad not to be sucking down a gel or Gatorade for a change.
"I slept good Monday night and woke up in plenty of time to head to Starbucks on Harvard Square and grab a quick breakfast and the morning’s copy of the Boston Globe with marathon results. Then we got our bags and made our way to Logan International Airport to wait with many other runners for our trip back to Houston.
"It was wonderful seeing my two kids and our dog and heading home to eat and rest. The whole weekend was perfect and I’ll never forget my first Boston Marathon. I hope to return someday and run it again with my husband. I don’t know what all lies ahead for me in running or triathlon or life, but I’m pleased and happy that nothing can ever take away this experience and for the rest of my life I can say, “I finished Boston”.
