“By the dawn’s early light…”
“2 states. 4 towns. Innumerable hills.” That’s how the directors of the Buildup to Boston (now in its 47th year!) promote this fourth, final race of the series (5k, 10k, 15k, 25k spread over January to March). Though the hills can’t be counted, the elevation can: Around 1,400 ft (427 meters) to climb, overall.
Like virtually all of the races in the 2025 series, I didn’t know if I’d do this race, as I had a saxophone gig the night before, and we all changed our clocks at 2 a.m., “Springing forward” (so we’d lose an hour of sleep). And I wasn’t ready for this race, having spent the week before running only 3 x 1ish hours; and the day before riding for 2.5 hours (“slowly! I’ve got a race tomorrow!”). But there I was, up at 6 a.m., cylinders clicking and pulling together the race prep, out the door at 7, arrive to check in at 7:45 for an 8:30 start.
Folks along the way were the short, competitive Michael “Torpedo” Rusolo; and moments before the race began, younger Rob with the Jeep (who parked next to me at the last race) gives me a fist bump and reminds me to have fun. The race begins, without a countdown or starting gun as far as I can tell (proving that after all, this is a community race). I decided that the hills won’t bother me if I focus on keeping a chosen level of exertion, rather than maintaining speed going up hill.
I pass and stay ahead of the heavier Guy in Dark Blue Shirt until Mile 6 or so, and then he inches ahead and eventually leaves me in the dust. At around Mile 8, there’s young Stephanie, chatting about her upcoming 100-mile race, with a phalanx of 4 other runners chatting about marathons whom I somehow had passed, and two of them are my age groupers. And that Phalanx of Five jumped ahead (or I fell behind) like the fast bunch of runners at the starting line who take off and seize the distance and are gone before you turn the corner. (The eventual winner was 31-year old Milan Duka of Stamford, who managed to finish in 1:25:03, a blistering pace of 5:29 min/mile!).
In choosing not to race after the faster folks (Tim, young muscular guy, plans to do the Sleepy Hollow Half Marathon as a last training run before Boston and recedes to the distance…), mostly I’m alone, trying to manage an RPE of 4-6 (middle level of exertion) for Mile 1-6; for miles 6-13 (OMG that is feeling like a lot of miles…) an RPE of 6-7; Miles 13-15, RPE of 7-8; and the last .5 miles, RPE 8-10 (though Coach Steve doubted I would have enough juice left to get any faster). The wise ol’ Coach predicts I’ll finish this in 2:09, at a speed of 8:21 min/mile, and that gives me the incentive to go faster than that, because I’ve beaten most of his predictions. 🙂
I try to stick to the plan, ignoring the watch except to see if it’s time for nutrition (forcing myself to take gels at 0:45, 1:00 hour, and 1:30, each time struggling to get back to a comfortable groove after eating), checking in that I am still under control as I mount those “innumerable hills”, and at the end of the day turns out my heart rate was phenomenally steady (avg. 143 bpm), and I’m taking in the scenery and trying to keep my eyes and thoughts on the horizon, and those folks from the Phalanx of Five chattering away about 90% of racing is “mental”, well, they’re just WRONG, because even if my mental game is relatively positive, the physical part of me is getting worn out by Mile 9 (“3/5ths done! 60%!” No, that’s not a very encouraging thought).
At Mile 10, LOTS of people are passing me, including an older (my age?) short woman who clearly is a marathoner, and the Tall Woman with the Pony Tail trots by (another marathoner), and the heavier Guy with the Blue Shirt is trudging along but trudging faster than I can, and when two young chatty woman catch up and pass me like I’m standing still, I have to admit, it felt like the NYC Marathon: when the runners who are chatty or in Statue of Liberty costumes pass you, you know things aren’t going well. Ultimately, I couldn’t get much past RPE 7 — working hard enough not to be able to talk (yes, I know, hard to imagine!), but simply not enough juice to get any faster.
I’m doing the best I can, and I’m running with really solid runners, and I’m only dissatisfied that I’m not DONE yet. At around Mile 13, a young woman in black with a long pony tail walked the beginning of each hill — stops to take phone call! — and ultimately passed and beat me to the Finish Line.
By the time I get to the dirt path lined with orange cones that leads back to the Silvermine Elementary School, I’m alone again and thinking, well, I’ll finally get my warm, dry clothes… and it’s DONE.
But here’s the amazing thing: I did well! My pace was 8:22 min/mile — only 1 second slower than what Coach Steve had predicted. Finished in 2:09:53 (and Steve had predicted 2:09:46. There’s no doubt: the man can crunch his data).
And what’s truly mind blowing, having been surrounded then left in the dust of the Phalanx of Five: I came in 4/13 for my age group, and 52/110 OA! What happened to the five to seven other guys in the 60-69 men’s bracket who beat me in the 5, 10 and 15k races? Turns out, two of them didn’t race today; another beat me by only 11 seconds; and another … came in only 8 seconds after me!
It just goes to show you, you never know who’s going to show up on race day.
Including yourself.
