At the Boston Marathon: A Personal Victory

By Gus Meyer

As I sit to write this, I am only two days removed from climbing my personal Everest, vanquishing a nasty Nor'easter in the process. I ran in, and finished, the Boston Marathon. Already, as the stiffness gradually fades, euphoria and relief are metamorphosing into satisfaction and a sense of completion. Nonetheless, I feel compelled to add one last step to the journey, and that is to share it.

I do not consider my accomplishment as meaningful as Martha Slater's epic weight loss or Aaron Hutchinson's conquering of the Long Trail. I find it humbling to know that 16,000 people in this year's race had run faster marathons than I, and 10,000 completed this one before I crossed the finish line at 3 hours, 48 minutes, 33 seconds.

Even in Randolph, there are a good number of people who have run the distance much faster than I - John Mazzucco, Milt Fowler, Harvey Porter, and Larry Bayle immediately come to mind. Still the experience came with lessons learned that bear repeating.

I figure the desire to do this came from two things. First, I have seven siblings, and we have competed supportively with each other throughout our lives.

Second, I had asthma as a child, developing a life-long fear of running out of breath. One of the benefits of competition is that it provides motivation to overcome obstacles, particularly when you have support around you to encourage your efforts. So, for me, my asthma became something to beat. It was thus natural that I chose to run cross country in high school. Upon completion of that moderately undistinguished career, I developed the dream of someday running in the Boston Marathon.

I put that thought aside as I completed my education, got married to Pat and raised Lindsay and Marissa. and pursued my career as a psychologist. But in 1998, while I took some time off to complete the writing of a novel, I also increased my running activity and completed a half marathon.

First Marathon

After a three-year break, I trained again and ran in the Green Mountain Marathon in South Hero in the fall. In the race, I flew with the wind on the outward half, only to be stopped by it coming in. I completed the race, but with several miles of walking, which left me feeling incomplete. I intended to try again, but I couldn't seem to find enough "round to-its" to establish a sufficient summer regimen for the next three years.

Eventually, the siren call of Boston lured me again. In addition to being the oldest, grandest marathon in this country, Boston has the singular distinction of requiring that you better a qualifying time for your age and gender. The extra ten minutes, allowed at 55, to three hours and forty-five minutes, made this goal at least conceivable. In the fall of 2005, I competed in the Clarence DeMar Marathon in Keene, N.H., and got a fairly early start last spring. Eschewing golf almost entirely for a second summer, I got in the miles and pace necessary to meet my target .

I ran the DeMar again last September. As it happened, it was the hottest, most humid day of the month. As the race wore on, it became clear that I wasn't going to beat the qualifying time. Rather than do myself in, I quit at 19 miles, thinking I might still find another race for the attempt. Sure enough, the Bay State Marathon in Lowell, Mass. was three weeks later. On October 15, there I was in Lowell, accompanied by my steadfast support team of Pat, Lindsay, and Marissa.

This time, I edged the qualifying time by a minute and a half. Now I could Run the Boston Marathon.

I allowed myself some cross training of basketball and skiing through January, but then buckled down to some serious treadmill time. However, I got in only one 20-mile run after Lowell. I knew the treadmill had helped with my speed, but I had no idea how much stamina I had.

Nor'easter Arrives

By the time I got to Boston, the Nor'easter was a certainty. The only question was how bad it was going to be. I found all sorts of other details to worry about, too. Would the road to the race be closed off? Would I be hypothermic even before the race from having to arrive two hours early? If I did finish, how fast could I find my family and change my clothes? Had I obsessed so much that I would be left without energy to run the race?

Compared to the build-up, the race itself was almost easy. The winds averaged 25 miles an hour--right in our faces--but I must have been protected by the other runners, because it didn't seem to be a factor. The occasional moderate rain didn't soak through my clothes or seem to hinder my motion. After a couple of miles, the press of runners thinned out enough so I could find my own pace. I bumped into a few people along the way, but only once hard enough to slow me down.

I was inspired by the unrelenting student cheers, heard from a half mile away, as I approached Wellesley College and later Boston College. I ascended the four fabled climbs through Heartbreak Hill a little cautiously, pleased that I could keep running through each without feeling totally spent at the top. The inevitable part of every marathon, at which I don't want to run anymore and wonder why I decided to do it, didn't happen until there were three and a half miles left. By then, I knew I could push myself to the end.

Afterward, it was a predictably slow process to get my blanket and finisher's medal, hand in my computer timing chip, take something to drink, find my clothes bag, locate my family, and stumble stiffly to the subway. Soon enough, however, I was a comfortable passenger in our own car, headed back to Vermont..

Painful but Healthy

I won't be running more marathons because, to be honest, I don't like long-distance running. I find it boring, time-consuming, and invariably painful. On the upside, it improves my health, helps me lose a little weight, can be done without having to coordinate with anyone else's schedule, is easy to get better at with time, and generates a good sense of well-being upon completion. That's enough to keep me running, just not marathons. I'm happy to check them off my life's to-do list and start thinking about other goals to pursue.

In many ways, this undertaking was self-centered and frivolous. Yet, it actually did provide benefit to me and others. Any number of hackneyed aphorisms have been confirmed. You can do anything if you put your mind to it. Life is what you make it. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Things are rarely as bad as they seem. No pain, no gain.

Also, it is a meaningful thing just to establish a goal and then take all the necessary steps, each one of them inconsequential by itself, but adding up to an accomplishment for which there are no shortcuts. It is worthwhile to occasionally place oneself in situations where one has to work through doubt and discomfort, pushing beyond previously perceived limits. Competition can be a good thing, especially when it is recognized that there are many forms of victory, most of them defined in very personal ways, not by the number of games won or the place one finished.

In the end, what has impressed me most was how involved my family and friends were in the process. I have not lost sight of the fact that I did this for my own edification, but I am truly gratified that the joy and pride derived from it could be shared in some way with so many others. And if this account can assist any reader to make a decision to do something healthy for himself or herself, I promise that there will be many of us there to cheer and share in your victory, however small it may be.