I could see something was wrong. Runners were parting uphill ahead of me, with a 2021 Boston Marathon volunteer waving her arms to direct traffic. A runner was down in the middle of the road in mile 8. As I ran past on the right, I realized the runner wasn’t conscious or breathing. Her face was purple and white, and another volunteer and a runner who stopped to help were giving chest compressions.
All of the runners around me were wide eyed and horrified. I’m sure I looked the same. I heard a few runners saying quick prayers, and I did too.
Then a quarter mile later, everything was back to normal. The crowds had no clue about the runner down. Music thumped and people cheered and waved silly signs.
But I couldn’t forget the face of the runner I saw. Did she die? Were they able to save her life?
That moment reframed the entire 2021 Boston Marathon for me. It felt like the past year and a half wrapped up into a moment. Suffering, and then trying to go on like normal.
Thankfully the runner who went into cardiac arrest lived. (You can read more about her story and contribute to her gofundme here.) The man who stopped to help, a fireman, and the volunteers delivered CPR until medical professionals arrived to take over. Together, they saved her life.
For the final 18 miles I bounced back and forth between feeling incredibly grateful to be able to run the 2021 Boston Marathon and feeling incredibly guilty for continuing on like everything was fine.
Those feelings of thankfulness and guilt are normal for racing while we are still in a pandemic.
The 2021 Boston Marathon highlighted the things that have changed in the world. The race also gave me a sense of normalcy.
I ran Boston three straight years, 2017, 2018, and 2019. My running calendar was all about getting a BQ and getting in the race. When I finished 2019, I was disappointed in my time. I would have cherished it more if I had known it would be 910 days before I could line up in Hopkinton again.
After completing the 2020 virtual Boston Marathon last September, I was excited to get back to an in-person Boston.
I took a redeye flight Thursday night and walked up the subway stairs into Copley Square early Friday morning. I sat on a bench and watched the sun come up on the finish line as people slowly arrived. The line for vaccine card check (or Covid test) went fast. The expo opened two hours later, and with only title sponsors in attendance it was sparse.
It felt like Boston, but it also felt different.
Lining up in Hopkinton on Marathon Monday, I was so happy to be back on the Boston course. The towns were familiar. The bright fall leaves were new and a fun bonus to the first (and hopefully final) October Boston Marathon.
I was pushing too hard early. I could tell that my legs weren’t ready for the hills or the pace. Boston has a way of convincing you to just go slightly too fast. Fast enough that you will pay and bonk in the second half, but not so fast that you decide you need to back off.
Then I passed a runner in cardiac arrest and everything changed for me.
My race got difficult. As predicted, my legs just didn’t have enough juice.
But with every step, I thought about the bigger picture. Normally I survive in races by condensing and thinking about a mile at a time. Not for the 2021 Boston Marathon. I thought about how much everything has changed in the world since 2019. My mind wondered what will be different next April when the race hopefully returns to Patriots Day.
I finished in my slowest Boston time so far. And I was OK with it.
I spent a lot of my post race time scouring twitter for any news about a Boston Marathon runner who went into cardiac arrest. Finally I found a tweet from a local city saying they had emergency responders help save a life on the course. Then I found another with the full story and new it was the same runner I had seen. And she was alive.
I wanted to get a faster BQ (I have right at six minutes cushion for 2022 and I don’t know if it will be enough). I hit none of my goals for the 2021 Boston Marathon. But it was good to be back on the road from Hopkinton to Boylston Street.
There will be plenty of time to train harder and smarter. I will regain some of my speed. Or maybe I won’t.
But I made it to the finish line and collected my fifth unicorn medal. I gained some life perspective, and I was reminded to be grateful for each breath.
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