"First Time at Boston" -- Vincent Attanucci, The Woodlands
I got an e-mail (which I periodically do) back in early October after I posted some comments about people that I knew or knew of who had run the Komen Race for the Cure 5K downtown. (This was the first of two races that Gabriel Rodriguez beat Sean Wade last fall.)
It was a nice note from The Woodlands' Vincent Attanucci, a '72 Penn State grad (he was quick to point that out having read that I was from near the main campus in State College), about saying that he was surprised to see information on the race on my blog before he found the results online. He went on to indicate that he was trying to qualify for Boston at the White Rock Marathon in Dallas two months later -- and trying to settle some unfinished business when he missed qualifying a year or two before.
Since then, I've been able to watch Vince meet his goal in Dallas and then again in January in Houston and now am fortunate enough to have his race report from Monday's 110th running of the Boston Marathon. Thanks!
Race Report
"I am pleased to report that I finished ahead of the number 1 seeded runner Hailu Negussie, 2005 Boston Marathon winner. He dropped out at mile 13 and I went on to finish. What a grand weekend.
Pre-Race
"I traveled up to Boston late Friday and was picked up by my oldest son Dan, who went to work in the city last summer after graduating from college. It was my first stay at his place, a small two bedroom apartment in the historic near north end, equidistant two blocks from Boston Garden and two blocks from the bell-tower of Old North Church (where lanterns were hung to signal Paul Revere’s ride). We had a brisk three mile run Saturday morning followed by a large breakfast at Theo’s Cozy Corner, which like most restaurants on the north end has a seating capacity of approximately four! At lunch we headed over to my brother’s house in Cambridge. He is a longtime resident and acted as weekend host and tour guide. His son and my mother also flew into town for the weekend, so it was a family reunion for all of us.
"On Saturday afternoon we headed over to the convention center for packet pickup - it was packed as expected - and then back to my brother’s house for a large pasta dinner. Easter Sunday morning was celebrated in 300-year-old St. Stephen’s church followed by a long lasting dinner of fresh Easter bread, ham and sweet potatoes, French made cheese (courtesy of my nephew’s girlfriend who was visiting for the week from Paris), and topped off by some amazing kolache pastries, at which point I retreated to a far corner of my brothers house and laid down to die – I mean sleep.
Race Morning
"A perfect day to race - partly cloudy and 50 degrees with light wind - actually a little bit warmer than predicted. My brother offered to ride me out to Hopkinton for the start and I felt good; calm and ready. As we attempted to enter an on ramp to Interstate 90 we were stopped by a police roadblock, and just at that moment a group of three luxury tour buses passed by, led by a motorcycle escort. It was the elite runners on their way to the starting area. The ramp was opened and as we followed behind we noticed that all three lanes of the freeway were occupied by the leading motorcycles allowing no one to pass, for security reasons we suspected. So we followed along behind for 20 miles to Hopkinton, along with five other yellow school buses full of mere mortal runners and an odd assortment of limousines carrying their athletes for the day to the greatest of all running proms! Race day was upon us.
"I was dropped off at a parking area at 10:00 AM for a short one mile bus ride over to Hopkinton. What an experience as we walked the half mile up Grove Street to the athletes’ village and staging area. Dozens of us strolling along all carrying our bright red Boston Marathon drop bags; for this one perfect day we were all Olympic athletes. I met one guy from Germany by way of Detroit and another from Scottsdale Arizona and another from New York, all first timers like me. At the bag drop I sat down next to a man in his mid forties, tanned and well spoken who was reading the New York Times (which seemed a bit odd to me). As I gathered up my clothes I looked at my watch and it was 10:50, so I asked him if we shouldn’t be heading back down the street to the starting corrals? He replied that he was running toward the back and I presumed that he was in wave 2 of the start. He replied no, he didn’t have a number at all, he was just up here for the day from New York to run off the back of the race (as a bandit!) - “there is a lot less pressure if you don’t even try to qualify”. Well I guess! On to the starting area at 11:00 and got there early enough for even a final restroom stop – good to go.
"Into starting corral nine, I sat down next to a woman runner covered up head to toe in a yellow blanket, a runner from Austin. She lifted the blanket slightly to show me her ankle, all wrapped up in an oversized brace. She said that she had trained through pain the past two months and had rested it the past ten days, and there was no way in the world that she was going to miss this day and race. Then the women next to her pulls up her pants leg and shows us her strained hip flexor, stating that she was going to gut it out as well. Ten minutes before the start, our Austin runner rips off her blanket to display her race singlet- the Texas flag of course.
The Race
We (the 9000’s) were corralled back over the top of the hill from the starting line, which is located down by the town common. At the gun we all stood still and cheered, then shuffled forward like Revolutionary War recruits, off to the battle ahead. We crossed the start line at 5:22 on the clock and headed down the hill. What an amazing sight to see, the crowd and 10,000 charging toward Boston. In most races that I run I must pick my way through slower runners at the front of the pack, but this was different. Hundreds and thousands of us packed in tight, but all running flat out (like being on the freeway at rush hour) and sure enough we hit the first mile split at 7:50, I couldn’t believe it! TJ’s Food and Spirits greeted us at mile two with a raucous biker crowd, and the crowds just built from there. On into Framingham at mile six, still hitting my slightly sub eight splits, the whole town out to greet us. You can’t run out of food in the Boston Marathon. I was offered water (cups and whole bottles). juice, beer, fruit (the bananas were offered peeled and unpeeled) , candy, fig newtons in Newton, one family was hanging out towels and another group sponges to cool you off.
"At mile ten Natick the crowds seemed to double and every kid in sight wanted to high five you. At mile 12, as we headed up a slight rise toward Wellesley, I began a lookout for my son Dan and his roommate and his girlfriend Leeann on the left (thanks for the great sign Leeann!). So I stopped for hugs and handshakes and then Dan takes off running with me like a tag along at the Tour de France for a good quarter mile. Approaching Wellesley, it is true that the screams build like a siren. They are an absolute wall of sound and of course one asked for a kiss and then a second (who was holding a Penn State sign so of course I had to oblige) – this is all true I swear! Then to the top of the next hill where my brother and mom and nephew awaited, that was so cool. It was an effortless mile, but maybe I dabbled too long – oh what the heck I might only do this once… I hit the halfway spit at 1:44, a couple of minutes off my plan and I couldn’t exactly figure out where I lost that, but at that point it didn’t seem to matter.
"Amid all the excitement make no mistake, this is a hard run. As advertised the early down hills tear up your legs - down we went into Newton, a hard drop and then hit the hills. At this point I lost all track of my splits and concentrated on an even pace up the inclines. And then I lost track of the hills, thinking that our last great Heartbreak was before mile 20, though of course it is not. Then back to the downhill’s, and by my memory a constant wall of sound from mile 22 all of the way in to the finish. In the final half mile I tried to straighten up and acknowledge the incredible crowds, ten deep or more, with a raised arm or wave, and made a mental picture for all time of the finishing stretch on Boylston Street. Then on to dinner and toasts all around.
"I did not feel happy with my race time of 3:45, a full seventeen minutes off of my qualifying time in December. I probably gave up 2-3 minutes slowing for family and high fives along the way - but the rest is un-explained. I felt that I trained well, with the exception of the distances of my long runs (just 18 and 20 miles). Was it in fact the training, the course, or the excitement of the weekend activities, poor race management from miles 12 through 22, three marathons since December, …or am I just slowing down? A perfect day would give me all of the race and a PR too, but that is the nature of our sport.
"With two days perspective I am left with the best of the memories, of being alive and part of such a great event – hey I finished in the top half of Boston and bested the number one seed! I told my family that I’ll plan to return again ten years from now for the 120th running, but I’ll ponder my running goals for this year and next, and just maybe I’ll plan to return soon rather than later as a Boston Marathon veteran. Who knows what the tide and future will bring?
Post Script
"Tuesday early I was back on the trail for a three mile run to extend my humble consecutive day running streak to 1,195 days, and it felt all good. Last night (Tuesday) I traveled on to Calgary for a business trip, and at the YMCA tonight (Wednesday) I met a woman who had also run on Monday her first Boston. She said that she ran a slow time too, didn’t try to set a goal time, and just enjoyed all of it. What a great perspective, maybe I did too."
It was a nice note from The Woodlands' Vincent Attanucci, a '72 Penn State grad (he was quick to point that out having read that I was from near the main campus in State College), about saying that he was surprised to see information on the race on my blog before he found the results online. He went on to indicate that he was trying to qualify for Boston at the White Rock Marathon in Dallas two months later -- and trying to settle some unfinished business when he missed qualifying a year or two before.
Since then, I've been able to watch Vince meet his goal in Dallas and then again in January in Houston and now am fortunate enough to have his race report from Monday's 110th running of the Boston Marathon. Thanks!
Race Report
"I am pleased to report that I finished ahead of the number 1 seeded runner Hailu Negussie, 2005 Boston Marathon winner. He dropped out at mile 13 and I went on to finish. What a grand weekend.
Pre-Race
"I traveled up to Boston late Friday and was picked up by my oldest son Dan, who went to work in the city last summer after graduating from college. It was my first stay at his place, a small two bedroom apartment in the historic near north end, equidistant two blocks from Boston Garden and two blocks from the bell-tower of Old North Church (where lanterns were hung to signal Paul Revere’s ride). We had a brisk three mile run Saturday morning followed by a large breakfast at Theo’s Cozy Corner, which like most restaurants on the north end has a seating capacity of approximately four! At lunch we headed over to my brother’s house in Cambridge. He is a longtime resident and acted as weekend host and tour guide. His son and my mother also flew into town for the weekend, so it was a family reunion for all of us.
"On Saturday afternoon we headed over to the convention center for packet pickup - it was packed as expected - and then back to my brother’s house for a large pasta dinner. Easter Sunday morning was celebrated in 300-year-old St. Stephen’s church followed by a long lasting dinner of fresh Easter bread, ham and sweet potatoes, French made cheese (courtesy of my nephew’s girlfriend who was visiting for the week from Paris), and topped off by some amazing kolache pastries, at which point I retreated to a far corner of my brothers house and laid down to die – I mean sleep.
Race Morning
"A perfect day to race - partly cloudy and 50 degrees with light wind - actually a little bit warmer than predicted. My brother offered to ride me out to Hopkinton for the start and I felt good; calm and ready. As we attempted to enter an on ramp to Interstate 90 we were stopped by a police roadblock, and just at that moment a group of three luxury tour buses passed by, led by a motorcycle escort. It was the elite runners on their way to the starting area. The ramp was opened and as we followed behind we noticed that all three lanes of the freeway were occupied by the leading motorcycles allowing no one to pass, for security reasons we suspected. So we followed along behind for 20 miles to Hopkinton, along with five other yellow school buses full of mere mortal runners and an odd assortment of limousines carrying their athletes for the day to the greatest of all running proms! Race day was upon us.
"I was dropped off at a parking area at 10:00 AM for a short one mile bus ride over to Hopkinton. What an experience as we walked the half mile up Grove Street to the athletes’ village and staging area. Dozens of us strolling along all carrying our bright red Boston Marathon drop bags; for this one perfect day we were all Olympic athletes. I met one guy from Germany by way of Detroit and another from Scottsdale Arizona and another from New York, all first timers like me. At the bag drop I sat down next to a man in his mid forties, tanned and well spoken who was reading the New York Times (which seemed a bit odd to me). As I gathered up my clothes I looked at my watch and it was 10:50, so I asked him if we shouldn’t be heading back down the street to the starting corrals? He replied that he was running toward the back and I presumed that he was in wave 2 of the start. He replied no, he didn’t have a number at all, he was just up here for the day from New York to run off the back of the race (as a bandit!) - “there is a lot less pressure if you don’t even try to qualify”. Well I guess! On to the starting area at 11:00 and got there early enough for even a final restroom stop – good to go.
"Into starting corral nine, I sat down next to a woman runner covered up head to toe in a yellow blanket, a runner from Austin. She lifted the blanket slightly to show me her ankle, all wrapped up in an oversized brace. She said that she had trained through pain the past two months and had rested it the past ten days, and there was no way in the world that she was going to miss this day and race. Then the women next to her pulls up her pants leg and shows us her strained hip flexor, stating that she was going to gut it out as well. Ten minutes before the start, our Austin runner rips off her blanket to display her race singlet- the Texas flag of course.
The Race
We (the 9000’s) were corralled back over the top of the hill from the starting line, which is located down by the town common. At the gun we all stood still and cheered, then shuffled forward like Revolutionary War recruits, off to the battle ahead. We crossed the start line at 5:22 on the clock and headed down the hill. What an amazing sight to see, the crowd and 10,000 charging toward Boston. In most races that I run I must pick my way through slower runners at the front of the pack, but this was different. Hundreds and thousands of us packed in tight, but all running flat out (like being on the freeway at rush hour) and sure enough we hit the first mile split at 7:50, I couldn’t believe it! TJ’s Food and Spirits greeted us at mile two with a raucous biker crowd, and the crowds just built from there. On into Framingham at mile six, still hitting my slightly sub eight splits, the whole town out to greet us. You can’t run out of food in the Boston Marathon. I was offered water (cups and whole bottles). juice, beer, fruit (the bananas were offered peeled and unpeeled) , candy, fig newtons in Newton, one family was hanging out towels and another group sponges to cool you off.
"At mile ten Natick the crowds seemed to double and every kid in sight wanted to high five you. At mile 12, as we headed up a slight rise toward Wellesley, I began a lookout for my son Dan and his roommate and his girlfriend Leeann on the left (thanks for the great sign Leeann!). So I stopped for hugs and handshakes and then Dan takes off running with me like a tag along at the Tour de France for a good quarter mile. Approaching Wellesley, it is true that the screams build like a siren. They are an absolute wall of sound and of course one asked for a kiss and then a second (who was holding a Penn State sign so of course I had to oblige) – this is all true I swear! Then to the top of the next hill where my brother and mom and nephew awaited, that was so cool. It was an effortless mile, but maybe I dabbled too long – oh what the heck I might only do this once… I hit the halfway spit at 1:44, a couple of minutes off my plan and I couldn’t exactly figure out where I lost that, but at that point it didn’t seem to matter.
"Amid all the excitement make no mistake, this is a hard run. As advertised the early down hills tear up your legs - down we went into Newton, a hard drop and then hit the hills. At this point I lost all track of my splits and concentrated on an even pace up the inclines. And then I lost track of the hills, thinking that our last great Heartbreak was before mile 20, though of course it is not. Then back to the downhill’s, and by my memory a constant wall of sound from mile 22 all of the way in to the finish. In the final half mile I tried to straighten up and acknowledge the incredible crowds, ten deep or more, with a raised arm or wave, and made a mental picture for all time of the finishing stretch on Boylston Street. Then on to dinner and toasts all around.
"I did not feel happy with my race time of 3:45, a full seventeen minutes off of my qualifying time in December. I probably gave up 2-3 minutes slowing for family and high fives along the way - but the rest is un-explained. I felt that I trained well, with the exception of the distances of my long runs (just 18 and 20 miles). Was it in fact the training, the course, or the excitement of the weekend activities, poor race management from miles 12 through 22, three marathons since December, …or am I just slowing down? A perfect day would give me all of the race and a PR too, but that is the nature of our sport.
"With two days perspective I am left with the best of the memories, of being alive and part of such a great event – hey I finished in the top half of Boston and bested the number one seed! I told my family that I’ll plan to return again ten years from now for the 120th running, but I’ll ponder my running goals for this year and next, and just maybe I’ll plan to return soon rather than later as a Boston Marathon veteran. Who knows what the tide and future will bring?
Post Script
"Tuesday early I was back on the trail for a three mile run to extend my humble consecutive day running streak to 1,195 days, and it felt all good. Last night (Tuesday) I traveled on to Calgary for a business trip, and at the YMCA tonight (Wednesday) I met a woman who had also run on Monday her first Boston. She said that she ran a slow time too, didn’t try to set a goal time, and just enjoyed all of it. What a great perspective, maybe I did too."
posted by WalkSports.com | 4:51 PM
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wow wow wow....WOW!
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