This was my second time toeing the start line in Hopkinton and what a difference 11 years makes. In 2015 for me Boston was a sufferfest - cold, wet, a brutal headwind that never relented. The kind of race you finish on grit alone and then spend years wanting to do properly. It was so cold my main memory is crossing the line (in 3 hours 48 mins) making involuntary shivering noises and searching for an emergency blanket. On crossing the line my mum gave me a hot coffee and by the time I got my warm clothes on it was stone cold. Conditions were too appalling for Phil and the kids (then age 3 and 5) to be out in support.
Not this time. The conditions were close to perfect: cold, partially cloudy and with a gentle - almost unheard of - tailwind. Our hotel was an extortionally priced Marriott close to Boston Common, walkable to the school buses that ferry runners to the start. I saw the boys off (Phil, Brad, Mark & Tim) for the earlier buses (the more speedy wave) and then walked with Sharon for my turn half an hour later. I felt filled to the brim with carbs, so much so I felt like food was resting in my neck each evening, but still managed to top up on race morning with a pack of Tilda microwavable rice, Hugo Fry-style.
It’s fair to say I enjoyed the crowd interaction and the cameras on the way around.
I ran this one (in theory) as a training run in the context of my build for my 100 miler race on the South Downs Way mid-June, which meant keeping my head and not going out like a rocket despite the crowd, the atmosphere, and every instinct telling me otherwise. I executed it almost perfectly. The plan was controlled, the effort was comfortable, and I ran with joy, feeling so strong from Hopkinton all the way through Wellesley, up Heartbreak Hill (what’s all the fuss about?) and into the long descent into Boston.
Boston really showed up - wow. The crowds were immense. I genuinely enjoyed every step. Never did I truly feel ’this is hard, I’m pushing’. I grinned ear-to-ear the entire race. I must have high-fived over 200 people (OK so the Wellesley tunnel was a good 50 in one go). You generally feel like a rockstar, and of course that’s what we are, right?
I crossed the line in 3 hours 24 min.
A few days later I realised I’d only been 49 seconds from a new personal best time - a few high fives less maybe? Some things are more important than the clock. As it turns out I still ran a faster pace overall than ever before. A win for sure.
Enjoying the infamous ’tunnel’, the loudest part of the course - and that really is ssaying something.
One of the things that made this day so special was sharing it with our crew. Everyone ran brilliantly (a relief!) but the standout moment was discovering Phil had finally cracked sub-three hours once I’d got over the line and checked the app. He’d been so close in Málaga, so to see him do it in Boston, on that course, with that finish line? Outstanding running! Couldn’t be prouder.
And for me… the real sign that I’d got that pacing right? My legs felt genuinely good the next day. Better than ever in fact. Good enough that I headed out for a 5km cheeky recovery run with Sharon.
Thank you for everything Boston - another fantastic day of racing in the books. And South Downs Way 100? I see you…