Boston's Run to Remember 2025

We drove up the day before the race, and Amy and I walked to packet pickup in the rain. It felt good to stretch our legs after the long drive! We met Xander, who was between performances of his show, and my brother and his family for dinner at Wagamama in the Prudential. We arrived in the midst of an anime convention, and the resulting crowd was both overwhelming and entertaining to be around. We spent race eve at a new hotel for us, the Marriott Copley Place. Our room, 3627, was so loud, and it wasn’t due to the anime convention. The elevator mechanics were really pronounced: dinging, popping, creaking, and beeping. After an hour of tossing and turning, I called down and managed to get moved to 3025, which, as you might surmise, is still rather close to the elevators, albeit 6 floors lower. We suffered through an awful night’s sleep and woke at 4 to have Ka’Chava, a coffee, and a cinnamon raisin bagel with peanut butter. We’d be able to move rooms one more time after the race, this time down the hallway, but still not quite out of earshot of the noisy elevators.

We last ran this race in 2016. It was Xander’s first half marathon, and I dubbed that year the “year of the half marathon.” I wrote a post about that year, and coincidentally, this year’s spring shaped up to be the same exact set of five half marathons. It wasn’t intentional, either, since Flower City came about since we didn’t get into Seneca 7, and this race fell on a weekend that we’d already planned to be in Boston to visit Xander, who was staying for the summer and was playing in the pit band for The Prom, for which we had tickets that afternoon. So, this spring, race-wise, was playing out much like it did in 2016.

Xander and his friend Jack (who was running his first-ever race, the 5-mile option) arrived around 6 so we could Uber to the start. Though it was just over 2 miles from the hotel, we thought it best to get a ride to stay warm and preserve our legs. The rain had gone away, leaving sunny skies and a starting temperature of 50 degrees. We got in the short port-o-pottie lines and then did a leg swing and lunge matrix to get loose. I asked Xander if he had any goals, and he replied that he was just going to go out and have a good time. I felt the same, and shared that I wanted to be around 1:30. Based on my half-marathon times this year, a few minutes slower would be realistic, but a goal is a goal!

It was easy to snake through the crowd in the start corral to get to where I wanted to be, just in front of the 1:30 pace group. Xander was further up ahead of me, almost toeing the line, and it was fun to be standing in an energetic hive of runners as the National Anthem was sung, bagpipers played, and the Boston State Police flew a helicopter overhead. And then, we were off!

Ready to go!

The opening few miles flew by quickly enough, and my heart rate commensurately rose. I flubbed a water cup at the first manned aid station (we passed an unmanned table, but I registered too late that it was there), so sadly, I would have to wait until 4-5 miles in to get a drink of water. We crossed the Longfellow Bridge (did you know, it’s also called the salt-and-pepper-shaker bridge because the towers look like salt and pepper shakers) and followed a short jaunt to the east before heading westward along the Charles. On this out-and-back section, I saw the leader pursuing the two lead police motorcycles. His gait looked effortless, though I knew he was cruising. A few other runners came into sight, and then I saw Xander’s smiling face. “Holy shit!” I exclaimed. He smiled and waved at me. I guess his “go out and have fun” pace was going to be a fast one.

We passed Longfellow again and passed another aid station. I noted this one had port-o-potties, too, but thought little of it. The sun was shining brightly overhead, and I was really grateful for the cooler temperatures. I got two waters here and walked while drinking, not wanting to get behind on my hydration. The course undulated until the turnaround past Harvard, and I enjoyed seeing the huge vintage Shell sign. This was another out-and-back section, and as Xander came into view, my heart leapt as I shouted, “You’re in FIFTH!” There were 4,000 runners in the event, so fifth was kind of a crazy concept. I put a little more pep in my step, reasoning that if he could manage that kind of performance, I certainly could work on my turnover.

Putting in the work

On the way back to Longfellow, a line of police cruisers and clapping cops greeted us as we ran by. I recalled nine years ago the line of cops being longer, but perhaps time has changed that memory for me. Shortly after I passed them, I felt an uncomfortable rumble in my stomach and had a horrible thought that I might be sick. I had taken on a few Honey Stinger chews, and normally, my body handles them just fine. Today, though, something conspired to make me urgently need a pit stop, and that recollection of the aid station just after Longfellow was suddenly a very convenient memory. I miraculously held on until they came into view, and I have never been more grateful. The day before, Formula 1 racing was playing on the television in the Marriott’s “M Club” and we watched in awe as pit crews managed to fuel the sleek race cars and change tires in under 3 seconds. I felt that way as I exited the port-o-pottie and rejoined the race course, having lost just under a minute. Gross, yes, but it’s part of the story and must be shared.

Had the 1:30 pacer passed me during my pit stop? I didn’t think so, as I didn’t see any pacer sign in front of me. Unsure of myself, though, I focused on regaining a solid stride and was happy to cross the bridge and enjoy a slight downhill past Boston Common and onto Commonwealth Avenue. Miles 10 through 13 are the “just hold on ‘til the end” part of a half marathon for me. As I made the final turn on the bridge to the seaport, I heard someone behind me urging other runners to keep working hard over that final incline. I glanced back and saw it was the 1:30 pacer. “There’s no way in hell you’re getting passed,” I thought, glanced at my watch, and gauged the remaining distance to the finish chute. It felt impossibly far away, but I’d do what I could! As I crossed, I noted the clock had not yet passed 1:30. I had done it, 33 seconds below my aggressive goal time (and with an unfortunate pit stop). Good enough for 3rd in my age group, and a well-earned stint in the sun. I enjoyed hanging out with Xander (who finished 6th overall and 1st in his age group) and Jack (who crushed his first race) and seeing Amy after she finished.

Post-race medals with Amy, Xander, and Jack

By the Numbers

• Time 1:29:27
• 3/123 in the M50-54 age group
• 102/1838 M
• 115/3,689 overall