Boston Qualifier, Part 2

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I was now approaching kilometer 35. In general, the whole course was marked in kilometers, but every 5th mile was also marked. I'd been looking forward to kilometer 35 since the start of the race. This was where I'd see Jennifer waiting and cheering me on. If I needed her anywhere for support, this would be the place.

So nervous about hitting the wall and battling myself, I fed Jennifer pithy inspirational phrases to call out to me, small thoughts that might help me focus when my mind was fading and complaining.

I curved round the corner and spotted her a block away under the drug store we'd agreed on. Several runners ahead shuffled past her and she, the lone spectator at this corner, cheered them on with gusto. I watched her, waiting for that moment she'd spot me. Closer I got, still she doesn't see me. She's waving at the runners. Some wave back. I can hear her clapping now and still she doesn't see me. Then just as suddenly, her eyes lock on me and I feel even stronger.

I glide past and she runs alongside me for several feet. She calls out, "Dig deep, baby! It's supposed to hurt! You're stronger than you think!" It made me smile. I had no reason to dig deep. Nothing hurt. She'd come through for me. Maybe that was part of the trick. Maybe I ran so well because I knew I was so well prepped for mile 20 and beyond. I knew Jen would be there to push me on. And just knowing that set me at ease, made me ready. I don't know, but I like to think so.

I'm so confident in my race, I tell her oh so casually, "see you at the finish at 3:18" and then I'm off again.

Here is where I ramp it up. I'm going to hit my time and see how much more I can do. Every runner ahead of me becomes a target. If you're in bright colours, you're on my hit list. The little guy in the orange shirt, 100 meters ahead of me. I don't charge. I just select and then methodically stride my way towards him. Any other runners I pass along the way don't matter. Only the target I've chosen. Once he's behind me, I pick my next victim. And so I continue through the remainder of the race.

On one of the final stretches of the course, I'm approaching a long, unending hill that several people have warned us about. And like everything else in the race, I stride my way up continuing with my hitlist of runners.

In the final mile (only at this point did they forsake the kilometer markers and only list the last mile...odd), I cranked it up, shocked by how much energy I still had. I charge past a blur of colours, bright yellow, red, blue, blue. It hits me now that not once since the 25 kilometer mark has a single runner passed me.

The crowd is now thick, the cheering growing. I pass the Laurel Point Inn and suddenly hear my name in a loud, shocked voice, "Kevin! Go, Kevin! Go!" And again as I approach the finish, another voice close to me. Friends, but I have no idea who.

I run through the finish, fighting the urge to hit my stopwatch. I've had far too many photos of me staring down at my watch as I cross the line.

And even at this moment, when I can release everything, where I can let everything fall apart, I feel good. I've just run the best race of my life. I savour my time. 3:13:48. 19 minutes faster than my previous PB.

Jennifer is the first face I see. She's had a cold for a week and we've avoided each other with the race approaching. Now I find her and kiss her through the chain link fence. We're off to Boston in April.