Falmouth Road Race

So what in my head was to be one of the least prepared races ever all time for myself (even worse than that time I forgot my running shoes...to a running race), we lucked out.  With no housing plans, literally ran in to a coworker who just so happens to be vacationing on the Cape near the race (with the caveat being we were present for the new generation of teenagers...they're pretty funny).

After soaking up a little sand and beach, my prerace meal was IPAs, oysters, clam chowder, and a lobster roll (again, really prepared)
I woke up at 2,3,4,5 a.m. despite really not trying for this race.

Finally up and chowing down on some vintage pb and banana sandwiches and being across from a fellow runner, Sportscenter on a massive tv, and sleeping on a futon, throwback college style.

We finally took off before 7 to get to the buses to the starting line.  As we waited at just one intersection for the cop directing traffic, Brian lowers his window to give them an earful for the ten minute wait to take a right...I looked at Brian, because I didn't know you could do that. Talk back to a cop.

The school bus line was super organized like Boston (even saw Tedy Bruschi for the third time this year NBD). We got to Wood's Hole and chilled for an hour, wading through the massive horde of 11,000+ runners in the dense fog by the water (too bad I didn't get a snap of the sailboats out there, super eerie). 

Since we were ill-prepared, we moved back pace groups.  We took it easy for the first three miles during the rolling hills and just kept weaving in and out (an extra 0.07 miles, not too bad).  I figured there'd be an opening soon.

Wrong.

We'd be dodging all day which makes no sense if there were corrals...

an older runner was yelling at walkers to move to the right...aggressive but truthful.

I skipped the water stations and just straight up missed another one...so I started dry heaving at mile 5.5. I was told there'd be a hill at the end.  There was one at 6.5.  Then the actual hill. Then the huge American Flag that would signify not the finish line but right before. Super tricky.

I expected nothing out of this, yet I was still a little bit disheartened by the over on the hour time (1:00:35). Well, either your ready for a race or you aren't, so time to get back to hitting pavement.

Right shoulder and back hurting.

Seen:
one tree hill backpack and a riddler hat from Batman Forever.

Post-BM

About a month and a half out from the BM, it still feels great and keeps getting better upon each retelling.  The further away it is, the lesser details and negative aspects fall by the wayside.  Yada yada yada, I have been coasting off that high and have not been really hitting pavement as much as I would like to.  So naturally, we sign up for races for a good motivator.

Schedule:

July 21-Dana-Farber 5k
Aug 18 Falmouth 7 mile road race

Fall-marathon???

Boston Marathon Race Report 2019: Runnin' like a BOS

The Pre-Race

I passed out at 10 pm and my sleep pre-race was (like clockwork) broken up by a 2:30 am wake up call with the usual "I missed the dang race" nightmare, followed by tossing and turning until 5 am. I got up and my right hip pain and quads were sore already. Eat a banana and P.B. sandwich, drink a liter of water, the same breakfast before every race.

For my official gallon Boston Marathon zip-lock bag, I packed what looked like an elementary school lunch:

2 peanut butter sandwiches, my pretzel nuggets that helped me during that 21 miler, and a bottle of water (complete with dry socks).  My fanny pack was filled to the brim with 6 gus (4 chocolate, 2 raspberry), keys, a T pass, ID, credit card, and my waist was surrounded with the usual TP utility belt. 

After 2 rounds on the porcelain throne (like clockwork), I boarded the B line train at 6 am with my Freddy Krueger/ trash bag get-up complete with Marathon Sports gloves and pajama pants, old Nike kicks and a makeshift necklace of dry New Balance Fresh Foams to ward off bad juju (and wet shoes for the race).  The things we do for running. #noshameinmygame

As I had done before many a time coming home from a bar, I slept on the T with my head nudged on the window since I knew by feel what stop I'm at like a sixth sense, this was my home court advantage.   Elite marathoners (looked like there was a Houston runner and Mexico runner across from me) filled out the rest of the train, perplexed by how much Gu and gear I had as they had packed 0% body fat and zero throwaway clothes. I gently woke up from my lean against the T as we reached the Arlington stop, and that's when the rain and lightning started and my trash bag fashion faux pas turned in to a vet move quickly.

While others donned their uncouth trash bags on the stairs leading up to the Boston Garden, I was momentarily confused and walked the wrong way then remembered to walk towards the line of school buses across the pond.  Volunteers were out in full force and helped direct us as the lightning and downpour started.

After flashing my bib and Dana-Farber bracelet (concert paper style) to security, I was able to grab a wave 2 bus at 7 am.  The rain then smacked us sideways with thunder going off in the background a la Lord of The Rings, Helm's Deep style (or GoT if you prefer); damp but bad ass before boarding.  I got on and saw another non-BQ DFMC teammate and hoped she would sit with me because I had no idea where to go once we got off the bus. She sat with me because I was rocking a Providence Ironman hat that I picked up at a race from another life time ago, I let her know I was in fact an Ironman fraud.  The ride was an hour long out to Hopkinton on a long motorcade of school buses that felt like the Dark Knight's bank robbery opening scene. Some runners became anxious as the ride seemed to go on forever. We finally arrived at the Athlete's Village where the Wave 2 runners turned left into, the rest of us went towards our safe haven as I spotted the tallest DFMC runner and training partner extraordinaire, Brian Thomson.

Hopkinton

We got to the Dana-Farber sanctioned church (so clutch) and as any vet knows, hit the bathroom asap.  While we waited in line, the flyover happened for the 1st wave as the bathroom stalls shook.  During our stay at the church, we added on Sharpie tattoos to our arms for those who we were running for, lettered my singlet with "Tang", then last second Sharpie'd in "A-Aron" also on the singlet. We took group pictures as well while I began to snack on PB sandwiches and pretzel nuggets, and drank another liter of water. We crashed the inside bathrooms and portajohns for a grand total of 5 rounds of the porcelain throne all before 10:35, proceeded to donate our throwaway clothes and shoes and the crawl to the start began. As we waited for our roughly 11am start, Wave 3 people were sneaking by us and running to the starting line as they were late for their start. I looked around and thought, we got blessed with this pocket of no rain and was pumped.  Earlier in the week, all we saw was rain showers all day. Before we started, Brian said that we'd get rain (0.07')  around 1pm.

We got to the top of Hopkinton and fired up the GPS watch as we crossed our first tracking point.  We definitely ran downhill for the first half (with hills at miles 4 and 8).  At 0.9 mi, Brian had a fan base with a  "25.3 mi" left sign as they cheered him on with a 'BT' shout for him.  Brian spotted a Welcome to Brookline sign around here, I was unphased and delirious to know what that even meant early on.
Thankfully there honestly wasn't as much jostling for openings as we were mostly 0.1 mile off before each mile marker and finally, learned to let the race come to us. (Zig zagged a couple times to stay within range of each other of course). A couple of jackasses were swerving in and out, like left side to right side...these must be the Massholes that drive around these parts.


Ashland and Framingham flew by quick.  We had to back off and run conservatively downhill.  In a role reversal from our long runs, Brian had to tell me to dial it back a couple times which I am so thankful for later on in the race.

Early on, Brian and I knew one small thing may have made all the difference; writing "A-Aron" on my singlet from the now infamous Key and Peele skit.  Every minute, a new sideline cheerleader would shout "A-Aron" after I passed by them, them chuckling to themselves, and me pointing at them after the fact and acknowledging the absurdity of it all, which started a longer wave of cheers.  Brian said the difference between whoever would finish first would be because of this, and I can't say that he's wrong.  To make it even more of a big deal, my "TANG" lettering was coming off, the G falling off and I did not want "TAN" shout outs.

Somewhere in this section I said aloud to Brian at least it wasn't raining and that turned in to a conversation with an older female runner who was going to run last year but decided to go to China with her husband instead, what a tough life. We also saw the usual Jesus-like shirtless runner, to which I said "was that Jesus?" to the delight of the crowd.

We finally got in to the rhythm of taking each mile's water stop after the mile sign, running to the back and left for water stations to sip and cool down. Nothing worse than sucking back Gu with a parched mouth.

Once we hit Natick (or was it Wellesley?) the sun came out and the clouds let up as we were slowly getting cooked without knowing it until it was too late.  We needed to back off the 8:30-40 pace and rock 9s.  We knew we'd hit every water station and pick up Gu and store it in my pockets.  I looked back for Brian and couldn't find him so I had to run solo since Brian wanted to go at 9 pace.  Felt bad but at the same time knew we spoke about this possibly happening.  After that 5k where Knapp came through and torched me in the pic at the top of this blog, I thought Brian may do the same here, too (not that it really matters, right?).

Wellesley to Newton

There were drums? Stomping? Whatever it was near the Wellesley Marathon Sports store, where I had my first long run with the team, kept me going. The home court advantage started as we had run these spots a couple times which made all the difference.

Once I hit the Wellesley "tunnel", I realized wow, I am old af because these college girls offering kisses are kids haha.  But back to the race, I thought to myself, I gotta plug away at 9:00 pace from miles 14-17.  I saw my Bristol bro around this point and one of my fellow colleagues at work who apparently whacked me in the back...totally do not remember that happening. At the Newton fire station at mile 17, they were blasting Montell Jordan "This is How We Do It" and all was right again.

Heartbreak Hill

Miles 17-20 was now when the work started.  A veteran told me mile 17 is the actual half way point of the marathon and after this experience, I totally agree.  I've run these hills before backwards and forwards in the carriage road but would now navigate the 3 hills along the main road and plug away. I saw Greg around mile 20 with his family here which helped me move along.  The hills were a slug fest but just kept grinding away having faced them before, passing walkers and spectators shouting "Go A-Aron!" I kept pointing back at them, thankfully I never smacked anyone with my left arm inevitably swinging by (I stayed on the left side per Brian's recommendation). 

Home field advantage is legit; the hills are something I did multiple times, even at night when I needed to do medium runs, making Heartbreak Hill less heartbreak-y.

If conditions were right and I had energy, I would've opened up a "finishing kick" after Heartbreak Hill like the one I had for our 21 miler (with my good luck pretzel nuggets that I never went to, kept eating Gu upon Gu upon Gu).  Unfortunately that wouldn't be the case but I had to keep telling myself I hadn't unleashed a big move yet and continue tricking my body and willing it forward as my calves started to cramp up as I hit BC. I hoped the cramps would be kept at bay til the finish.

I continued running through home court as I passed the reservoir then navigated a right turn and a left on to Cleveland Circle where I saw fellow DFCI 5k member Richie and then saw my newly-joined Brighton Bangers run club! And apparently some girls I've met in Brookline saw me around this point too. Rep precedes me haha.

10k To Go

The last 10k, while being downhill (save for that Mass Ave dip) was slow as molasses as the humidity was turning up.  The "4 Jane" sharpie'd tattoos on the arms in honor of my spirit animal Jane Gunzelmann pulled me through the last 10k.  I was constantly raising my arms and cheering up the spectators to cheer us on a la KOB.

Around the Washington Square stop, I saw my Mom cheering me on in a green DFMC shirt that Brian donated to me (what a team player).

The "A-aron" high fives, while propelling me forward at a faster clip, caused some semi-calf cramps around mile 23 or 24 when I veered towards some drunk college kids chanting A-Aron in unison...won't forget that.  Had to shake my left leg as the cramps became more apparent.

I had nothing left in Brookline and couldn't make a move for a 3:45 finish time as I peeked at my watch and was around 3:22 at mile 23, meaning I'd need a 23 minute 5k so it wouldn't have been feasible. But I also knew sub 4 was fine so long as I ran 10s. I think either the 23 or 24 mile water stop, I walked for a quick second to gauge my cramps and knew I had to start running otherwise I'd walk the rest.

The Citgo sign (and the accompanying hill it's on) were welcome signs (rim shot) as the end was near.

I tried to get the crowd involved in the end...it's amazing how I turn in to this different person while running. I was yelling, hollering while running, talking to myself aloud to keep going, all with my hand on my ear like I was 80s era Hulk Hogan.

As I took the right on to Hereford, left on to Boylston (along with others taking the turns tight), the rain finally started as we were about a quarter mile out from the finish line.  I kept waving my arms and according to my race photos, I was smiling? I hit the finish line and in rare form, did NOT dry heave...even got an Uta Pippig shout out (she was a speaker for the team and has been with the team for a while).

3:53:24. Haven't got to say this in a while but that is a PR!

Received a congratulations from the team leader and photographer.  They got another DFMC runner as we took a photo after congratulating each other.  The photographer asked what A-Aron stood for.  Very good question.

Got my medal put on me, got my coveted space blanket, and was led by a friendly DFMC volunteer in a pink shirt to help navigate back to the Marriott.  Just as we headed towards the Hancock tower, a swirling dervish of trash came through and the rain picked up.  When I slowly got up a couple stairs and on some escalators, I was able to change out in the make-shift locker room on the third floor and lament with fellow runners who didn't know they would get here due to injuries. I hopped in to my pre-hip Champion sweats and running shirts from almost a decade ago and called up Mama Tang to meet up on the fourth floor family waiting area.

After getting my mom back on the commuter rail back to PVD, the rainstorm bookended the race on both sides thankfully.  Naturally the sun came out with a rainbow around Back Bay post-run.

Stats and facts:

-2 Nantucket Nectar Half and Halfs at the Marriott post-race, that's all I had, Gatorade for tonight #liquiddiet

-I took EVERY GU (Mocha and razz) available offered by the volunteers ... must've had 12 total since that seemed like the limiting factor during my 21 miler (whereas today, I was parched due to the heat and couldn't go to my pretzel nuggets that ignited a 4 mile kick for my 21 miler)., must've looked like that fat kid in Matilda with brown crap on my face and hands from squeezing every last bit of Gu out, toothpaste style

-Right foot was getting tight in my shoe (or I laced em wrong)

-Can't eat post-marathon per usual

-Brian gets credit for all the "A-Aron" chants, numerous and sped me up every time.

-he also went in to the portajohn with a popsicle stick with Vaseline on it...have I been skipping a step?

-Got a runner's tan on my back

-8 towns, 1 race

-Only ran an extra 0.23 miles per the GPS, not bad

-Group runs with Brian helped with my confidence to trust 8:30/9 pace whereas Marine Corps was all solo runs but I did not feel nearly as good as I did this training cycle

-Loved the strangers saying congrats per usual

DFMC team

-Organized as all hell, volunteers got us to the Marriott, no problem at all. Speaks volumes that a lot of my energy could go towards the race and not logistics.  This team is the real deal.

-Rockin OOFOS and changed in to my pre-cool Champion sweats and medal for Jane

-Coach Jack Fultz, amazing work

-Customized DFMC jersey and kicks that were sharpie'd....should've done that 

Sountrack on the course

"Road Runner" by the Modern Lovers early on in the race

"Midnight City" by M83

That "ole ole ole oleeee" song

A throwback Ja Rule song

"This is How We Do It" by Montell Jordan at the Newton Fire House

The Aftermath Bullet Points

-My "4 Jane" tat left a "Jan" imprint on my right arm due to the sun coming out

-I'm smiling in almost all my pictures, do I finally cave and pay MarathonFoto for pics?

-A Boston Marathon jacket, I finally can wear it. Do I feel bad since I didn't BQ? No, because this is America, money talks. You can buy your way in to college. Right Aunt Becky?  Speaking of school, it's like a varsity jacket for Boston...why I didn't wear it to run club that Wednesday at run club is beyond me.

-My mantra coming in was, crush mileage, outwork 'em, relax, turnover your legs, and blink? It worked I guess

-"A-Aron" echoing in my head kept me up, that's why I only slept for an hour.  Listen, we are never going to be the NBA or NFL stars we dreamed of as kids.  But that feeling of complete strangers cheering you on...man, can't shake that feeling!

-Flip it on its head, yes I could've hit 3:45 with no insomnia and better weather but lets look at 3:53 as what it is, a PR under rough and tough conditions

-never felt 100% to start, we got robbed.  That 21 miler was my race...we need another shot at the marathon. Never hit the wall though thankfully. 

-With 1 hr of sleep after the race, I can see why athletes love playing at home with people chanting your name as you raise your hands or acknowledge them cheering as you are pursuing your best effort. Nothing like it.

-Quads and right outside knee are shot, not back of the knees like in the past. Going Benjamin Button on my walking the whole week, hobbling to back to normal in a week.

-"walking around like Bambi." -Heather Tang

-despite not really working out, my upper body and core held up (but yes, I need to do yoga and lift again).  My arms did look jacked in that one waving pic haha

-I didn't notice the usual funny signs or costumed runners (or any at all)...there's a different vibe to this marathon.  The prestige and honor associated with it must have something to do with it

-not peeing apple juice but not exactly water

-reached for a package on the floor and my right shoulder cramped the hell out

-Ran with Pat Henderson way back during our URI days to help him train for Boston for a couple miles, now we here. What a crazy journey. He had some helpful words the day before the race to soak in all the love.  Amazingly I did, Boston came up huge.

-Run your miles, work hard, but have no expectations.  I read that, from one of my earlier entries in this blog.  That's the way I need to approach running and life.

-sacrifice to the running gods: my space gray iPod shuffle is MIA.  RIP. Bought a shiny new red one to replace it #midlifecrisis

-took longer for my legs to recover, about a week and a half.  Getting older or am I just paying for not taking a day off after the race?

-Future goals: run another marathon? Feeling good, gotta keep up the fitness level or improve.

-hard to see, but the drop in elevation was very hard to fight off speeding up.  So glad we did.  That spike in pace at the end? The turn on the Boylston from Hereford.

Bonus highlight reel

Behind The Scenes

So this is where the petty part kicks in, end now  if you don't want the 2Pac "Hit Em Up", Michael Jordan acceptance speech vibes below.  I may delete this part later.  

For those out of the loop, signing up for this race was done like many if not like all of my races; not by my choice.  I have wanted to do Boston ever since Knapp and I conjured up all these wild dreams as new runners.  This race would also be different since there was a large fundraising component as well.

At the beginning, the understandable stress of training and fundraising, along with a relationship that would sour after moving in together began to take its toll on my mental health.  

I broke down.  I cried. I cried like a little baby.  While she was there to console me, apparently this was part of the many reasons why this relationship would ultimately end.  

Within a 2 month period, everything went from all in to all out.  Wasting my time and energy. 

And within that time, my friends became my new support system and my long runs became therapy (along with actual therapy), a time to vent and expend energy in to something I loved and would end up fighting for on my own.  Thankfully all the long runs went well.

This would all proceed in to a break up 2 weeks prior to the race after spending my time and energy in to helping the move.  This became a detriment to my sleep and mood during a time when I would be tapering and had no outlet since my runs were being halved. For the first time, I have insomnia. Frustration hung like a black cloud over such a prestigious time.

On top of all this, to have the audacity to text after all that and say good luck the day before the race after trying very hard to move on from this relationship, which would momentarily rattle me.  Thankfully I was at a pasta party and heard inspirational speech upon inspirational speech.  

I remember that the only time I was faced with relationship adversity pre-race 7 years ago, I quit at mile 8 of a half marathon where I had a shot to PR. I had to dip deeper in to the well to find the courage and energy to continue.

For Boston, this race was a division, it was about who has your back and about those who would rather selfishly drag out a terrible time in my life to where I felt horribly during an already stressful time.


If someone told me that I would PR at Boston after a messy break up, I would've laughed in your face.  The sheer willpower to get through and PR on a less than stellar day on a less than stellar year personally...this PR, this medal, this jacket is for me. It's for me and for those that were there to support me and be on my team.  You know who you are.  And you know who you are.

Run Like a BOS week of

Week of: man, every race report has life coming at me fast. Tapering and dealing with a break up, sleep being erratic at best/ consistently inconsistent, check.  Brian and I watching the weather report hour by hour, shopping around the best option, seeing it go from rain to ... hot and humid like Marine Corps...We went from tights and buying rain gear to this...Nurses and the like coming to tell us they would never do this and that we must be so nervous...yeah I wasn't nervous until now haha

Friday: Thankfully Brian has been on top of planning as we went to grab our bibs at Hynes in what was the most organized expo I’ve been to, to date.  We had our work clothes (corduroys and Osprey bags as if we were a couple haha) and grabbed our bibs and shirts. Per usual, my medium shirt was a bit too tight as we changed in the middle of a ballroom as a fellow team member came by to say hi to us.  After taking our bib pics, we snaked our way around the expo and looked for our free OOFOS flip flops.

The adventure would take us to Newbury St, as Brian put it, the street we don’t belong on. The pop up shop for OOFOS was dope as we walked around as people tried on the newest recovery tools.  We then hightailed it to the Marriott to check in with the DFMC team. Grabbed a beer at the stuffy crowd at Abe and Louie’s to see Tiger almost eat it at the Masters.  I then naturally had to get Thai food days before a race because of course.

Saturday:  Pop-up Record shop? Record Store Day. Still a hipster.  Reading on top of Summit Ave. Chickem Shwarma? yup and a matcha latte and pretzel from Clear Flour, checking out Booksmith and the hipster honeytrap around there with the candles. Bonus? Getting a LUUUKKKA shout out with my Luka shirt in college country.



Sunday: Pasta Dinner and Mama Tang day.  Uplifting stories throughout the night, the best from the race director said pre-heart surgery, he asked if he could run after. The doctor said it’s not a yes or no, but I’d be surprised if you didn’t. Go home, my mom’s chattin up an old friend from China. She’s got more friends in Brighton than me haha.

Longest Boston pre-run

sleep? erratic.
nutrition? chili cheese fritos and bon chon fried chicken.
life? all over the map.

aka, the usual haha

Today would be the final long run for Boston, a little over 3 weeks out.  Switching it up from gummies to the ol’ Gu. Brian and I would lace em up one more time, with us on the wake-up call on WCBV (me front and center haha) and very inspirational speeches from Team Matty.  After christening the BC bathrooms, we headed out for 21.

We were dubbed the “fast runners” as we passed this one guy immediately after the BC gym we were at.

I wasn’t feeling too hot, trying to keep up with Brian as we chatted with a Bristol runner, Andy.  The run was broken down in 2 mile increments for DFMC water stops (thanks to all the volunteers!).  Gu time was at mile 5 and thanks to poor nutrition, I burned through my 4 quickly as I had my last at mile 14.

Brian pulled ahead around mile 6, I thought about slowing up but got a burst of energy to catch up and continue to go stride for stride.  Just pull me to mile 20 and see what I have left in the tank.


We came in at the half mary mark at 1:53, well below 4 hour pace.  We were definitely sub 9 pace and just let it ride despite multiple pump the brakes hand gestures.  I felt like the only thing holding me back was lack of Gu (thank God for those pretzel nuggets that I squirreled in my cheeks).  Trying to contain pace downhill was fruitless so by the time we hit Newton, I let it rip.  I actually got a comment from Andy, apparently it looked like I was on a bike powering up those hills.

Heartbreak Hill at mile 20....ok now I get it haha. Definitely harder (the lululemon tunnel helped). the cheering, cars honking encouragement, the Sun peeking out...I don’t know what it was but I was on 8 minute pace for the last 4 miles.

Maybe it was the iPod playing Empire of the Sun to Grand National on a loop.

Right hip is still feeling off, hold on for three more weeks.

lessons learned:

6 gu packets/ pretzel nugs?
get to the top of mile 21, then let it rip with the finishing kick.

How Tang got His Groove Back (for the millionth time)

Reflecting on a decade of running (time flies right?), I have found that basically every race report has been blemished with hurdles and obstacles, increasingly, with higher stakes as the years go on.  The races paired with life in this way were just coincidental (life is always filled with bumps, just mixed in with running), but life just continues to get tougher (and hopefully more rewarding).

As I continue to try and improve myself, I realize now that my anxiety (and unfounded fears) were what may have held me back during previous races and previous life hurdles. (Learning, even a decade later, who says you can't teach an old dog?)

Last year, running started taking a backseat, the lbs started to pile on, so naturally I had joined the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge team to run the prestigious Boston Marathon (albeit sans BQ).

In the following months, I had to relearn all over how to love running.


The hills. The mileage. The runner's high.  The caloric furnace that reignited inside. The camaraderie.  The pain. The prestige. The double chin eradicator.



I hope that this springboards me forward, and I am able to not only reignite my passion for writing but to also continue to run at my usual 9 minute pace (never faster, never slower than this) until the end of time.




So going forward, I need to take pride in this aspect of my life and continue challenging myself, sign up for races that I pick (at least one each six months).  I forgot how much I miss training for a big race.

last 5k from the DFCI 5k in summer of 2018

10 x 400 Wednesday prior (still a bit sore...old af) 

Chips n salsa

9am escort in an Audi with Gia and suggestive GPS Richie after a Blac Rabbit concert, at DFCI (with pit stop for bathroom and water) on my day off

Marty Walsh cameo 

10:30 start-misting, not too humid, 75 degrees.

less people up front, stroller too to boot.

(told Richie he'd hurt himself if he ran with me, he was nice enough to ask if I wanted someone to run with)

downhill pacing for 7 minute pace with a blonde runner (or two?) and hatted guy who I basically rode along with for their pretty even pacing after I calmed down from a 6:20 downhill pace. There were a bunch of switchbacks, high fived the team at the first turnaround, 2 mile hill that made me audibly yak (just me and hat guy at this point, blonde dropped back), that feeling coming early.  That also hurt my finishing kick/ pacing for that matter.  Hat guy passed me in the last 800, had nothing left, told him good race at the end.  Stroller beat me too at the end, props to that guy.  

Haven't run with people in a while so high fived and cheered, jesus top runner in the 20-29, listened to the awards to reinforce that yup, my division is one of the toughest.  Messed around playing soccer goalie, had some Talisker and Whistlepig scotch from a Boston cop's stash with pizza and a daschund, Then, crashed all day, hungover, rallied by 10 pm.

flattering

-Colon inflatable that we walked through, a GI doc said to his family as he was leaving at the same time as Richie, "I've seen a lot of colons"