WARNING:  COMPLAINING BELOW.

It’s 7:33 on a Sunday morning.  You wake up groggily and immediately realize that your alarm didn’t go off.  You get out of bed, open the curtain to see a gray day with rain pouring down.  What is the last thing you can imagine wanting to do?  Yup, that’s right.  Run 21 miles of hills.  With this run, which includes the first 18 miles of the marathon route, I will have run every step of the marathon route in the past month (adding on the Heartbreak Hill run which I wrote about here).

Click for the live map. Check out the big downhill at the start of the marathon. Gotta be careful of that.

My last run more than 20 miles before the marathon (WHICH IS IN 2 WEEKS!), I had a plan that I decided I would follow.  With no time to make my pre-run cup of coffee (which, according to this NY times article, helps in all athletic performance – you can bet your life I’ll be swigging espressos on April 20!), I rushed out the door, jumped in the car and drove to West Newton.  Grabbing the pieces of clothing / food I thought I’d need, I parked in West Newton, sprinted to the train station, and caught the 8:10 train on the dreary morning.

Apologies in advance for photo quality of this run. I had to use my cell phone. And I didn't take many because it was so hard to move my fingers. Yup, this picture is about how I felt when getting on the train.

Surprisingly, there were actually people on the train.  I browsed the piece of the Sunday paper I brought while watching the stations pass by:  Auburndale, Wellesley Hills, Wellesley Center, Natick, West Natick, Framingham, Ashland…  all these towns I would soon be running by, and would run by them again on Marathon Monday.

I got off at the Southborough station and started running 3 miles over to Hopkinton (the train does not go directly to Hopkinton).  In the 30’s and rainy, a curvy, hilly road with no shoulder, immediately, I could not get the story title “The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner” out of my head.  With my wife just having left for Israel, and ‘un jour miserable’, where all you can imagine you want is flannel clothes, a warm cafe latte, pancakes and the Sunday paper, and here I was, a wet, sodden rat out on the awful Sunday morning getting splashed by SUVs.  The smell of firewood did not help to answer the existential question that all runners face at some point: “Why am I doing this?”

Hopkinton Drug

At the top of a big hill, I reached Hopkinton, the beginning of the Boston marathon.  Oh, how different this place will look on race day.  Right now, an abandoned and cute and small town center, with the town green and Hopkinton Drug, so familiar to people who’ve run the marathon.  In 2 weeks, it will be filled with 30,000 people, many wanting to use port-a-potties as they are hydrating and waiting for the marathon to start.

Marathon starting line and Hopkinton Green. Oh, how different you will look in 2 weeks.

I found the starting line of the marathon, faded but visible, and ran east on 135.  I remember that the marathon route starts downhill, but had been under the mental impression that it was downhill for miles.  But for the first several miles, it was definitely rolling hills.  And I somehow had thought there might be sidewalks on the route.  How could I have been so wrong?

The slogging unpleasantness continued.  When I thought I had been on the marathon route for at least 3 or 4 miles, I passed mile marker 2.  This was going to be a long day.

I crossed the Ashland town line.  The only thing I knew about Ashland is about a superfund site and cancer cluster there.  Very good mood I was in.

One of the few photos I stopped to take. This is a shout out to my friend Lakshmi. I know you're a good frisbee player and all... but come on...

I made it through Ashland, and into Framingham.  The good news was that there were sidewalks now.  The bad news, however, was that I was starting to get really cold.  I ducked under a little overhang to get dry for a moment.  I didn’t feel good, I was freezing, and worst of all, as I literally said out loud to myself, “I guess I’m stuck.”  I had a couple of dollars in my pocket, but on Sundays, there are very few trains (the route is mostly along the commuter rail line until Newton).  So I took a deep breath and started to run again, just nearing Framingham Center.

And like the train sent down from heaven, there it was, like a beacon of light in the night.  The commuter rail line slowing down, about to enter Framingham station.  And this was the moment of truth.  Here is my out – I can just jump on the train and end the misery.  10 miles into the run (7 miles into the marathon route).  It’s what I had wanted.

Like a beacon in the night...

And like I’ve done many times before in this winter marathon training, I took yet another deep breath and decided to run on.  There was something about that moment of decision, however, that changed the run.  Even though only I had decided to do the run, no one had forced me to, it was at this moment that the run was mine.

I passed into Natick, now luxuriously on sidewalks all the way.  And soon came to Natick Center, which is about mile 11 of the marathon.  And there, yet another sign from the running gods.  A man on the side of the road, parked, with a trunk full of Gatorade.  It turns out that several charities were doing official long runs starting in Brookline, running out to Wellesley or Natick, and then back.  These runs were supported by volunteers with food and Gatorade.  And there were other runners!  All suffering together!  For the most part, I’m a pretty staunch individualist.  However, the company and community out here running, changed the run for me.  Smiling faces, small hello’s.  Such a difference from the beginning.  Even though I couldn’t bend my fingers to hold a cup, I did partake in the calories.

Thank you for the Fig Newtons!

I then came to Wellesley.  Up the hill into Wellesley College, at about mile 12 of the marathon.  I pictured the scream tunnel of all the Wellesley girls who will be lined up there in 2 weeks.  Then, past the half marathon mark.  And then I saw my friend Brett who is also training for the marathon with a charity!  it was such a nice little visit.

Coming into Wellesley Hills, I was finally at familiar territory.  Right near Babson where I come by with Nurit so often.  From here on, the route is intimately familiar.  I went down the big hill, crossing into Newton, over Route 128, past Newton-Wellesley Hospital at mile 17 of the marathon route (mile 20 of this run), and I turned off to get back to that blessed, dry, warm place that is my car.

Never have I been so glad to see you, my little VW.

This run really took it out of me.  Between the weather and the hills, my whole body was out of kilter for the rest of the day, and my quads for the next couple.  I definitely felt my quads coming down the last big hill, and recognized that feeling from the last time I did Boston.

Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.  This frickin run better have made me stronger, cuz I’m still alive!  I am proud of the effort, but not sure what my times are telling me.  The pace I ran (about 7:55) certainly isn’t near the pace I’d like during the marathon, and it certainly was hard for me.  So, I’m trying to understand whether I need to recalibrate my expectations as to what I am able to run at my advanced age.

Anyway, I earned my blessed Sunday afternoon latte!

As we are getting very close to the marathon, my next post will have logistics leading up to the marathon.  But… SAVE THE DATE!  Meet me at the Independent in Union Square, Somerville, on the evening after the marathon to celebrate!  Monday, April 20, from 5-7 pm (might be there later, but depends how i feel).  Always good marathon stories to tell!