Training Run Times

Ok, lads, full disclosure. The feminazi was my work. I just couldn't bear the idea of Terrier breaking my time from my last Full in 2022(??). I thought about a camouflaged traffic cone, but he has experience with them. What I did was I posted a few PRoC misogyny threads to the Feminazis of Massachussets and intimated that Terrier was one of the lads. I described him in much detail, flowing silver locks, possibly hidden under a woolen beanie, manic stare, and so on. I even took a pic from a few years ago and had AI do an aged update........... I did say not to do the guy any lasting damage, but that if he was on a for 3.26.xx with a couple of miles to go, to take him out a la mad Irish priest in Athens Olympics.
 
Just watched highlights of Boston, the sprint for 2nd/3rd place was mental at the end of a race that long, there was nothing between them!

No footage of BPT being assaulted
Yeah, the elite race was something else – the usual posse breaking away and then lads gradually dropping off until the key attack by Korir on Heartbreak Hill. The sprint for the line between Simbu and Kimurgor for the line was off the charts. I reckon our boy Conner Mantz was the breakout performance though.

He hung in there and covered every move – ending up just 4 seconds behind the lads and just off the podium. 2:05:08 was a big PB for him. Even when Korir went at the bottom of Heartbreak Hill, it was Mantz who pulled the pack along trying to close the gap. In fact, they did pull back a lot over those last miles and, as well as being 4 seconds off the podium, Mantz was only 23 seconds off the overall win. Hammering down Boylston St. towards the line, Mantz was right there and seemed to suffer more than the other two from a sudden intervention from the stewards shifting the trio to the other side of the road in the last 150m.

Watching an interview with Coach Eyestone afterwards, he bemoaned Mantz’s willingness to cover all the moves and pull the pack along to close gaps. Eyestone reckoned second was there for Mantz if he had bided his time and stayed in the group. I’m not so sure – Korir would defo have waltzed away if Mantz hung back.

Meanwhile, although he fell off the pack in mile 19, there was a good PB for Clayton Young, his training buddy and Rory Linkletter, the Canadian lad came up to notch a 2:07 for 6th. Anything sub-2:08 was a world-class time in Boston this year – especially into the headwind. Mantz is the man though, surely a big win is coming soon for him.
 
Boston race report coming soon but in the interim, here is what makes Boston so different -

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  • The race is point to point, not a loop - from rural Hopkinton you run 26 miles east to the centre of the city. So you spend hours getting bussed out to the start and waiting for the gun and also can have an all-day tailwind or an all-day headwind, depending on the weather

  • There’s huge engagement from the city and the spectators -the whole town goes marathon mad for the weekend festival and they reckon around 750,000 people get out to deliver raucous support on the day. Half the pubs you go into after the race won’t let you put your hand in your pocket for the first beer or two – locals chipping on to buy you free ones as well. It’s incredible

  • Boston is by far the oldest marathon in the world, one which constantly reaches into its fabled hstory to inspire the event and the runners of today

  • It’s a notoriously difficult course – pounding downhills early on for which you pay dearly in the killer climbs from 15 to 21, before bate-out quads have to look to descend again – the only time in your running life you don't want to run downhill. Winning times are always a few minutes slower than the other big marathons and there is never any pacing at Boston – the gig is just too unpredictable

  • You have to qualify to run there – there’s effectively no lottery and every qualifier is ranked according to QT in the start pens. You are under no illusion as to your humble place in the setup

  • The Wellesley Scream Tunnel – the US tradition of single sex universities is alive and well at Wellesley College, the famous alma mater of Madeline Albright, Ali MacGraw, Hillary Clinton and others. The 12.4-mile mark is right outside the door and over the years, the girls have traditionally turned out to support the race. This has gradually descended into a full on, utterly woke-proof, glorious hormonal riot as approximately 2,000 females scream and offer hugs and kisses to the runners. Placards and banners with “Kiss me if you’re sweaty”, “I love a bit of Mexican”, “Don’t worry, your wife will never find out” etc. are held aloft. You can hear them maybe a quarter of a mile before you get there. LOL, it’s gas

  • The buildup to the start is super-intense – all 30,000 runners parade down from the high school – a one mile procession down to the start with all the local residents out cheering you on. Once you’re in the pens, you have the Marine Corps Choir on the bleachers singing “The Star-Spangled Banner”, then the bowel-liquefying low flyover from the F-111s followed by the countdown to the start. Hair-raising stuff, no-one does pomp and ceremony like the Yanks

  • The legacy of the bomb. The memories of 2013 are everywhere – a sense that everyone in the city was attacked, not just the race. While Boston 2014 was defo the most emotional marathon I ever ran in, even at this distance the bond between spectators and runners is a big deal. It also strengthened the already tight bond between the Red Sox and the marathon – it’s a mega bond now

I'm obviously pumped in the immediate aftermath of the few days, but you don't get the above at any other of the big marathons. You see loads of runners doing the "big six" and getting their well-earned six-star medal, but given the choice, I'll take six Bostons every time.
 
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BOSTON MARATHON 2025 - RACE REPORT (Part 1)

In a “campaign” characterised by long slow recovery from one knee injury before a late-breaking occurrence of the exact same problem on the other leg, Monday’s race was never going to be a fast one for me. The fact that the injuries restrict the movement of the leg and required a more apologetic running style along with the soreness made for a new approach for sure. Still, the aim was to complete the task and in Boston, that itself is a big deal.

I flew in from Shannon on Saturday and had a decent Airbnb room near the expo where I spent a lot of the weekend resting and waiting. Adidas ran the show at the expo and it was very corporate, Even the usual lad selling the gels was absent and I had to buy the Maurten ones from the official stand.

The forecast was OK – 13 degrees, sunny and a headwind that would build as the day went on – could have been a lot worse. The usual efficient bussing of 30,000 people to the start line - you have to see it to believe it – meant I was delivered, sprawled on the grass in the marquee out in Hopkinton well ahead of time. I’d had the muesli at round 06:00 and, resplendent in a pair of Michael Guiney’s tracksuit bottoms, Riverstown FC training top and woolly hat to hold off the chill, I munched on half a banana and a bit of a croissant around 09:00 in prep for 10:30 start.

With a choice of using a 3:01 or a 3:12 entry time, and given the modest target, it was better to be a lot further back in the starting order. This meant I was in Wave 2 for the first time – down in the 4th corral – with a start number in the 12,700’s. Just shows you the standard, there were over 12,700 qualifiers who were faster than 3:12. The most noticeable thing back this far was the number of female runners – way more than you’d normally have in the Wave 1 pens.

LOL, Wave 2 also meant the fighter jets and the marines did their thing while we were still parading down from the high-school – so the start was a lot less fussy than other years.” Are you ready?”, count down and off we go into the bright blue Boston day.
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Miles 1 to 5 – 7:26,7:08, 7:14, 7:14, 8:18
Per last week’s post, I had an idea of 8-minute miling as an average – it was as fast as I could hope for and was the pace at which I’d done all the prep. Given the early descents, that meant a vague target closer to 7:30 pace in the first half and 08:30 over the heavy stuff in the second part of the race. Given the general state of injury and fitness, I also baked in four stops to take the gels – full on stops at 6, 12, 18 and 22. That would cost maybe two and a half minutes, but they would be worth it. Adding it all up would give me a target 4.5 -minute cushion at halfway which I’d expect to burn through in Newton and beyond.

Muscle memory doesn’t die easy though and combined with the pace of the runners around me, the early miles were too fast – feels natural at the time but you know you’ll pay for it later. There were sections in miles 2 and 3 where I was clipping along at 6:50 so I had to cut that - you can see from the profile that after mile 2.5, every metre you descend, you have to climb again. The best move is always to stop and go again, so when I saw a row of portapotties around the 4.5 mark, I ducked off the course to make a proper 60-second pit stop. As I got going again, I met one of the lads from Bandon AC who we occasionally run with. He had 3:10 as his plan so I knew I was right to stop if I had been ahead of him. We would pass each other regularly over the next 6 or 7 miles, as he came by me at every gel stop and then I’d gradually catch and pass him again. Although the early miles are downhill, there are a good few climbs in there and I felt totally bate as we hit these – fierce hot and bothered. LOL, then I noticed I hadn’t taken off the woolly hat before the start – no wonder I was baking. I pinged it towards a bin on the side of the road and, now cool and fresh, tackled the second five miles.

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Miles 6 to 13 – 7:18,7:49, 7:31, 7:31, 7:28, 7:38, 7:28, 8:23

The stop did the trick, and the pace was a bit more appropriate now. In fairness, the descents had flattened out. This is the stage in a marathon where you begin to get an idea how the day is going to go. You’re banging along, trusting the rhythm at this stage, and only really looking at the watch as the miles tick over. Some days you feel you could run to the moon and you’re holding yourself back. Other days, like Monday, you keep tipping along, feeling there’s a bill in the post, but not having to open it just yet. Just watch your own pace - keep letting others go by if they want. Per schedule, I stopped after mile 6 and the first Maurten gel went in OK. They are weird gels though – I’m used to the heavy syrup style of the Power Bar gels, but the Maurtens are actual jelly, and you need a decent sup of water to get them down.

Once you get to mile 9 in Boston it becomes clear you’re in for a challenge. There are a number of long pulls (it’s actually a solid uphill from mile 9 to 12) and you have to force yourself not to start worrying just yet. After the 9-mile mark, the course follows an exposed road between two lakes and the headwind was really noticeable here – cooling for sure - but debilitating too. Never, fear, the Wellesley ladies are here, and as you tackle the ups and downs along the road towards mile 12, the screams get louder and draw you up another climb into the “tunnel”. I took a heap of high fives, one hug, but no kisses lads. After that, it’s on into the town of Wellesley, another picturesque, New England beauty, where the crowds were now three and four-deep and the music was deafening – Livin’ on a Prayer, Jump Around, YMCA, all the basic numbers to get you pumped. What an intense buzz – the towns so far had been packed but the countryside was a bit quieter. However, from here to the finish line, there wasn’t a space to be had along the route – non-stop shouting, clapping, bells, whistles and banners all the way to Boylston Street.

My own marathon experience is that any performance is only possible if you can manage to dish out the pace with consistent lowish effort out to 18 miles or so. After that, you feel the pain and effort and then it really kicks you from 22 on. In Boston, the heavy effort comes earlier with the hills but it’s still fierce important to keep it steady for these middle miles – you can’t afford to go hard just yet.

After mile 12, per schedule, I stopped again for the second gel – I even had a chat with a few spectators and their kids – then climbed through Wellesley to the halfway point with around 1:40 on the watch. Not bad, just under 5 mins on the watch to burn when the pace slowed later on in the Newton Hills and beyond.
 
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BOSTON REPORT (Part 2)

Miles 14 to 20 – 7:40,7:50, 7:30, 8:04, 7:54, 8:37, 8:00


On the course, things are still calm enough for the first bit after halfway – up and down and up again but you’re tipping along. By focusing on constant steady burn, I was slowing down alright - but not too much and every mile under 8:00 pace was putting a few seconds in the bag and holding those precious five minutes. Because of my 6/12/18/22 gels stop plan, I knew I had a stop coming at mile 18 – right in the middle of the Newton Hills. This was a good turnout, as it happens, since it meant I could take the hills in two sections – Hills 1 and 2, then a gel stop, then hills 3 and 4. I passed my mate from Bandon for the last time around mile 15 – he was walking and looked fairly shagged, just not his day and tough hills to come.

As you exit Wellesley and approach mile 16, there is a glorious long descent to the Charles River. It’s the last descent before Newton and man, the crowds are out in force. There’s just a wall of noise as you drop down the hill – the far side has a tough climb out of the valley into Newton and up over a flyover but for now I buzzed away down, high-fiving all over. No hiding from it now though, that bill has arrived, and Boston gets real and as you cross over the river and hit the first climb to Newton manners are put on you immediately. The flyover has no footpath, so it gets quiet again for a short while before you get some respite past the hospital. I did reasonably OK here – going a small bit over 8:00 for the climbing mile, but I could feel that the five minutes were going to be needed alright.

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There’s only three 90 degree turns on the Boston route, and the first of these comes at the Newton Fire Station. Again, an absolute wall of noise – I know I keep shiteing on about the support but it’s incredible. Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” booming out on both sides of the road and the screams, whistles, shouting and cacophony lift you into the steepest climb of the day. This one is an absolute bastard with a deep saddle at the top so just when you think you’re done, you’ve a bit more to go. You’re into the “stock market graph” part of the course now with a steep descent to mash the quads as you try to recover before hitting the next pull. A water station at 18.4 and my chance to make the third gel stop – fairly bushed now but two Newton hills done, two to go – race plan still intact. “How’s it going?” say the girls at the water stand. “Fantastic!”, I lied.

On again, past the statue of John Kelley to the next climb. Kelley did over 50 Bostons, winning just once, in 1957. Lads are really cramping up now and a fierce posse are walking. My gel stop delivered the goods though, so I could stick at it. LOL, felt like I was crawling but got up and over and the miles were still close enough to target. Not for long and I knew the final big climb up Heartbreak Hill would definitively soak any remaining joy out of the legs. Mile 20 ticked over in 8 minutes dead and that was fine with me

Miles 21 to Finish – 8:24,8:00, 8:28, 9:08, 8:19, 8:28, 7:01 (last 0.5 miles)

Heartbreak Hill – hell when you’re on it, but it’s the core of marathon running. If there’s one condensed explanation for 16 years of doing marathons, this hill is it. Past 20 miles and not much in the tank now. Thousands of people shouting and roaring on the sidelines, willing you up the climb. I’d done it often enough to know where the top was, but also to know how important it was to soak in the atmosphere and to marvel at the buzz as each runner fought their battle for victory in their own personal race. You go under a big banner at the top, negotiate another saddle and then the big descent starts once more. Nobody wants to run downhill at this point – not even the elites. Your quads are fried, and the pain hits you so hard you accommodate with a kind of duck jog to get moving. It’s mile 22, another fabled landmark at Boston, known as “The Graveyard Mile”, because so many Boston plans come unstuck here and so many podium contenders fall away in the difficult descent. So, a modest 8 minutes and once through the mark, I made the final scheduled gel stop. Jaysus, I was in a heap. There was feck all in the tank now, the knee was complaining hard, and the descending was fairly mashing it. Still, stop included, that mile was 8:28 and I was realising that the 3:30 target was looking good.

As you hit mile 23, you’re in the middle of a 2.5 mile run along Beacon Street, beside the commuter railway line and, as well as the crowds, you have all of the train drivers hooting their horns in support as they go by. The crowds are big here and there are a number of crossing points – breaks in the barriers where stewards can allow people over the road when there are breaks between the runners. I was totally bollixed but was reminding myself to drink it in – the intoxicating buzz of the last few miles of a marathon. You know you’re probably going to make it, and the emotions are strong. Sure, you want to finish, but you want to suffer those last miles to get there.

I had just passed one of the crossings and was contemplating the Nietzschean totality of these feelings - embracing the suffering like – when some unscheduled pain got added to the load. I felt a stiff push into my back and my legs also entangling with whatever was behind me. There was no “sailing through the air” moment – first feeling was my forehead and shoulder hitting the tarmac – smack! The interloping perp seemed defiant. It’s funny, with nothing left, you’d think I’d have been stuck on the ground, but I couldn’t believe how pissed off I was, jumping to my feet, letting a roar at her and declining the medical assistance offered by a volunteer. I knew if a medic looked at me, they’d haul me off the course so, tottering a fair bit at first, I got running again. LOL, I must have looked a sight on the run in with the blood down my face and off my shoulder. Even through the pain of the running I could feel the scald of the road burn on my shoulder, arm and leg. Looking at the splits, I’d say she cost me 40 seconds or so.

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mile 25 - the CITGO climb

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Sox fans deliver support at Fenway


On we went down Beacon Street, through mile 25 and time for one last highlight, the massed Red Sox fans outside Fenway by the famous climb to the CitGo sign and we could all feel the finish now. Down under the underpass, LOL, struggle up the far side and onto the last climb of Hereford Street before rounding the last corner onto the (downhill!) run-in on Boylston Street. It’s just a wall of noise at this stage but a check of the watch shows we’re good for the sub 3:30 and that’s another Boston medal nailed.

Into the chute, water, foil blanket, medal! Plus, the only negative thing about Boston – the food bag was absolute mank – “low fat” high processed apple chips and the like along with a cellophane-wrapped “bread” roll that will still have the same chemical composition the day of the 10,000th Boston marathon. A cheap option, unfortunately – even a Snickers and a bag of crisps would do the job. No matter, met the buddies, for beers, burgers and a super slow, stiff-legged walk home to bed.

Even though I’ve never run a slower marathon (even a year ago I ran 3:01 in Seville), I’m getting so old that the time is still a solid BQ for next year. Will wait now and try to fix the knees on a more sustainable basis. If I can crack that problem, there’s definitely more marathons to do.

But, as you can probably gather, nothing beats Boston lads.
 
Based on your injuries from a few months back, I never thought we’d read another full marathon report from you again. Incredible and inspirational are the two words that spring to mind. Onwards and upwards and looking forward to next years one.
 
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