Long overdue: My Olympic Trials Marathon experience

Over a month removed from the big show I think I finally have enough perspective on my Olympic Trials Marathon experience last April in Boston to put the weekend into words.

It all began Friday, April 18th, the day that Indiana shook. With a 5.2 magnitude earthquake in the wee hours of the morning awaking residents in states more known for tornadoes than tremors, I should have taken that as an omen that the weekend and following weeks would be a little shaky.

When Ben and I arrived at Indianapolis we found a few runner friends on our flight to Boston's Logan Airport. Once we arrived, we showed Camille how to navigate the Boston subway. After we got off of the subway and emerged above ground, we managed to roll ourselves and our luggage to the Boston Sheraton. I couldn't get to the official Trials check-in room fast enough to see what goodies awaited. I was not disappointed. All participants received a technical t-shirt with logo, Nalgene bottle with logo, oversized cotton gloves with logo, poster with logo, Camelback bookbag (without the water bladder) with logo, and stuffed lobster (no logo on the lobster). The good people at Brooks contributed to the goodies galore with another book bag, gloves, ear band and very nice jacket.

Friday night brought with it the first official Trials weekend activity: the Welcoming Reception. There were some nice cheese and crackers and clam chowder for hors d'oeuvres, but I was mistaken in thinking this event was a dinner, oops. The best part of the reception, though, was reuniting with my old training partner and friend Heather May. It was so nice to see her again. Second best part was the slides show they had on two large screens with "playing cards" shown for every single runner. I missed my own photo the first go-round, so stared intently at the screen for the next five minutes so I could see it again. It flashed quickly then was gone, but I was pretty excited nonetheless. After the reception we met up with my good West Lafayette friend Mary and had some scrumptious cheesecake at, where else, the Cheesecake Factory.

Saturday morning Ben and I went for an easy run along the Charles River. Apparently everyone else in town had the same idea. We passed a gaggle of Hanson's Runners on our way out. After a couple miles I stopped to stretch my hip a bit. As I looked up I saw a yellow blob approaching? Could it be? No, surely not... but wait, it was! Lance Armstrong just ran by me and looked me in the eye! I started running after him, Ben rolling his eyes at me, but then the Livestrong clan went a different direction so we went back to running our own route. On the way back to the hotel we passed the Team USA Mammoth Lakes clan, then saw a few Ethopian elite athletes before watching both of the Hanson brothers run down to the river as well. It was like flipping through a real-life Runners' World magazine with all the famous runners we saw, my excitement level increasing with every run-by.

Saturday afternoon we toured historic Boston with my cousin Ann and had a great meal in the Italian section of town. Afterwards we went to the Boston Marathon Expo, the granddaddy of all race expos. We visited with Blake at the USATF stand in the corner and I loaded up on a few free Lara Bar and Power Bar samples, got a Livestrong poster, bought my dad a t-shirt and then was satisfied. Saturday evening was the pre-race dinner from 4-6p.m. at the Sheraton. Not to be an ungrateful snob, but the food was pretty bad. Dried out chicken and bland pasta sauce, topped off with melted ice cream was what the Boston Trials committee served us. Nonetheless, it was free!

It was only 6pm and we were already done with dinner, which only meant there was way too much time for mischief. Since my hip was hurting I knew I wouldn't be able to finish the whole race, so there was really no need to rest up and stay off my feet. Ben, Blake and I headed down to Fenway Park to see if we could find some cheap tickets to the Red Sox game. We ended up getting leftover handicap seats that had a fantastic unobstructed view, right at the first baseline. The game was great fun, even though I'm not a huge baseball fan, but by about five innings in I was absolutely freezing and wanted to leave. My compadres weren't about to leave, though, so I toughed it out and we got to see Manny Ramirez hit an eighth-inning come-from-behind homer to secure the victory for the BoSox.

While waiting for the subway to go back to the hotel we ran into two guys running Boston on Monday. One of the guys was so excited to find out that I was running in the Trials that he had his friend take a picture of the two of us. That pretty much made my day!

Unfortunately I got to bed much later than I had hoped, and 5:30a.m rolled around much sooner than I had hoped. With bags under my eyes I made my way down to the elite athlete breakfast and ate the crumbs left over from all the other runners . Note to self: bring breakfast or eat earlier in 2008.

At 7a.m. all the athletes were waiting in the designated hallway to be paraded out onto Boylston Street and our designated staging area. I wanted to talk a paparazzi picture of Joan Benoit Samuelson, but restrained myself. The temptation proved too much, though, as I did take a few of her with my camera phone once we made it outside. Even though I was not really racing, I still got chills walking outside arm to arm with all these amazing athletes and seeing so many fans out to watch us compete.

I did a one mile warm-up back and forth along Boylston and could tell from it that it was going to be a rough run. I managed to get the leg heated up enough to not limp, and the adrenaline from being in close proximity to Joan Benoit Samuelson, Deena Kastor and so many others also helped alleviate the pain. Before the final run-outs I found Heather and told her I'd love to pace her for as long as I could. She would be running 6:15s to 6:20s and that sounded like a good pace for me since I could barely run mile repeats much faster the week before.

After the national anthem I weaseled my way toward the front of the line and found a spot conveniently just behind Deena. While we were waiting for the start, two women pointed to the huge bruise on my leg and told me it looked pretty cool. Then all of a sudden the gun went off and I felt like we were crawling, although the pace quickly became more respectable. I decided to go for my fifteen minutes of fame and stay up front for at least the first 2.2-mile loop. I could hardly believe that I was running right next to Deena, and in my euphoria I forgot about the pacing-Heather plan. I managed to stay upfront long enough that I knew I would be clearly visible on the live Web-cast, which also contributed to my amnesia about the original pacing plan.

After three miles I let the chase pack (Magdalena Lewy Boulet had charged to the lead at the start and built an early gap on the rest of the field). As I settled in to a more comfortable 6-6:15/mile pace I tried to soak up the entire experience, watching all the cheering bystanders, enjoying the view, imagining myself still in the lead and feeling comfortable. I even saw Ryan Hall cheering at one spot on the crowd, and heard a friend yell "RDP!" from the sidewalk (RDP is my high school's motto - Red Devil Pride). At the 180-degree I could see the runners behind me, and saw Heather. I remembered my promise to pace her and felt guilty for not following through on it, but was still so hyped up that I could not bring myself to slow down. Ah, the vigor of inexperience.

After the first loop, bringing me to 8.2 miles, the adrenaline began wearing off and the tightness took its place. Both my left shoulder and neck and my right hip were aching and my form was deteriorating more with each passing mile. Around 10 miles an awful stench made its way to my nasal cavity and I quickly became nauseous. As a lady in a dark blue top but brown shorts and brown legs passed me, I realized what the smell was and felt both sorry for her and increasingly sick to my own stomach. Before I could stop it, I leaned over to the side of the road and puked up all the Gatorade I had drank that day. Ever since I was little and had to clean the litter box I've had a really hard time with that smell.

The last half of that second loop was rough, and once I passed the medical tent at 14.2 miles I decided it would be stupid to put my body through any more pounding. A very nice volunteer walked me back to the tent where a very nice lady sat me down on a massage table. An athletic trainer came by and saw the huge bruise on my leg from the Graston therapy and freaked out, told me I had developed a huge hematoma and needed ice immediately. I told him I'd had the bruise from Graston and it had been there for a week. He shook his head and just walked away. Evenutally a sports massage therapist, Helen, came over and I had a new best friend. She knew exactly what she was doing and my tight muscles could not have been more grateful. After she was done rubbing me out she put my participant's medal around my neck and told me best of luck in 2012, which made me tear up a little.

I changed quickly and rushed back outside to catch the end of the race. It was quite inspirational to see Deena gliding in to easily win her first Olympic Trials Marathon. I felt re-energized watching everyone finish, knowing that with a few more years I too could be up there competing with them. I also got to see Coach again and made plans to meet up with her after she finished her own marathon the next day.

After the race was over Ben and I made our way to the Hansons-Brooks Post-Race Party. I was most excited about getting another very nice free Brooks bag, and the free pizza and Diet Coke were big winners in my book as well. Ben schmoozed with some Brooks big-wig while I talked with friends and fellow participants Ann and Johanna. After party number one it was time for the official Trials Awards Banquet. We sat with Camille and her husband, Purdue cross country coach Connor Holt. They were a riot and I thoroughly enjoyed hanging out with some fellow West Lafayetters (even if they are transplants, they still count).

The banquet was another serving of inspiration for me. There were many people in the top 15 that I have at one point or another competed with, and nearly all of them were older than me. This helped me not feel as badly for not finishing (one of my absolute least favorite things in the world) and reassured me in the need for patience in this masochistic sport of distance running. My time is yet to come.

The next morning, Patriots Day, Ben and I went for one more easy run along the river. This time we did not see nearly as many famous people. My hip still ached, and I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that it might be my last run for a while. After cleaning up and again eating the leftover scraps at the athlete hospitality room we headed out to watch the finish of the Boston Marathon. We saw Ethiopian Dire Tune and Russian Alevtina Biktimirova sprint to the finish in the elite women's race. Not long after, Robert Cheruiyot passed by us. He completely dominated the men's field; it looked like it was a playground foot race and he wasn't even breathing hard.

We walked further up Commonwealth Avenue to find a good spot to look for Coach (a.k.a. Judy). Ben hoisted me up onto the ledge of a light pole and right before she passed me I finally saw her. I screamed "Go Coach!" at the top of my lungs and she turned her head and gave me the thumbs up. I also managed to get a picture of her - mission accomplished. It took a while to wander through the massive crowds of weary finishers and anxious family members, but I eventually found Coach in the family reunion area. She and her old college teammate and I waddled back to the Prudential Center food court to get some grub. I enjoyed catching up with her and she very kindly listened to me vent about all my current frustrations. When it was time to leave to catch my flight and I had to say good bye to her, I once again got teary-eyed. You don't know what you've got till it's gone, that's for sure.

After a long flight and solo drive home I finally got back to good ol' Bloomington. I dumped my bags on the floor and passed out on the couch, didn't even bother to walk to my bed. I was physically and emotionally drained. Alas, I have many things to take from this experience: lots of free junk with the cool '08 Trials logo on it, and a truck-load of inspiration, enough to last me a good four more years at least.