On April 20th I lined up on Boylston Street among 146 other eager women ready to begin a 26.2 mile journey through the streets of Boston at the 2008 Women’s Olympic Marathon Trials. For many of these women, this race would be the highlight of their running careers, a race they have been thinking about for months or even years. The Olympic Trials only comes along once every four years, and for some, like Deena Kastor this is just a stepping stone to the medal podium in Beijing this August. For others, this will serve as their own mini-Olympics. Their ultimate goal was to qualify for these trials, and they are proud to be here among such an amazing group of women. Then of course there are the women who had their sites set on the Olympics, but had just crossed over that fine line between perfect fitness and injury. Those women certainly weren’t lacking determination. In fact, having a little too much of that in their blood may have been what pushed them over the edge, and caused them to put in more hard miles than their bodies could endure.
Fortunately I was one of the women to make it to the starting line, and I stood somewhere in between. I didn’t start in the back of the pack, nor did I get on the first row. Somehow I ended up right behind Deena Kastor on the second row, ready to put myself in a good position for a long race ahead. My race bib was “lucky” number thirteen, which I did actually believe to be lucky as I used to pick that number back in my youth soccer days. Not to mention a couple of days earlier I had been listening to a song called “Lucky” in the car when I came up behind an SUV with the license plate “Lucky”. If that wasn’t a sign I didn’t know what else was. Superstitions aside, thirteen represented my ranking in the field based on past marathon performances, although I knew it meant very little. On one hand there were runners ranked ahead of me who had some questionable circumstances, like an inconsistent year of racing. There were others who hadn’t raced a marathon in years (the qualifying window was large) and those who had qualified for the race based on a 10k time. On the other hand there were a group of hungry rookies ranked below me who had only begun to realize their potential in this event, along with the ones who had run their marathon debuts in less than ideal weather conditions. The only thing that mattered was who was ready to go on April 20th. If I had an amazing day I felt I could finish within the top five, and of course if you are in the top five you could very well be in the top three.
Two months before the race, I had been having the best marathon workouts of my life and had even seen some faster track times than I’d seen in a long time. My form issues I’d been having were improving with my physical therapy regimen and everything seemed to be coming together. I had run my PR and qualifying time of 2:38.18 in Chicago in 2006 and my longer workouts had been significantly faster this time around. I began to gain a lot of confidence, and specifically remember one day after a workout when it dawned on me what an amazing opportunity I had before me. Aside from Deena, there were no “sure bet” athletes. Deena had a PR of about 10 minutes faster than the rest of the field, but aside from her, nobody in the field seemed unbeatable.
I did run into some obstacles however. After returning home from the Gate River Run 15k in March, I came down with a bad cold. I felt horrible, and didn’t go to work one day but somehow I managed to get in 120 miles for the week, the week I now look back on as “hell week”. I had been determined to stay on track, as things had been going so well up to this point. I got through the week thinking of my friend Zoila Gomez who had been at the 15k as well. She was telling me about her 120-mile weeks and also how she was coming down with a cold. She was also training for the marathon trials, and had a sub-par performance at the 15k. Maybe it had been her cold, maybe the high mileage or maybe both.
After that week, my training had been ok, but nothing stellar. I felt as if I were going backwards in a lot of my workouts, where I would be slowing down as opposed to running the last reps or miles the fastest. The worst days were the weekend before the Trials. The temperatures in Virginia had gone from 45 degrees and rainy to 82 degrees and sunny. This seemed to shock my system and I was barely managing to run marathon pace for three miles in my workout. My legs felt heavy and I felt like I had no energy. I told myself that tapering has that effect, and that I wouldn’t feel right until race day. The rest of the week I felt better and remember feeling powerful doing my strides. Everything was fine, and I had months of quality training behind me. All it took was to glance over my training log to be assured of this. Everything was in place. I just needed to race tough on Sunday.
I waved to my parents who were standing above the crowd on some flower planters, and then the gun went off. This was actually happening, this race I had been thinking about so often for so many months. It felt great, running on Deena’s heels, the entire race ahead of me. “Are we running really slowly, or do I just feel really good today?” I thought as I had to concentrate not to step on Deena and some other runners in front of me. I saw one runner go out ahead of the group. I wasn’t worried as I figured it was just someone who had gotten overly excited or who just wanted to be on TV, as I did not recognize her as a top contender. Apparently Deena was not worried either. We went through two miles in 6:15 pace (my PR was 6:02 pace) as nobody would dare to step ahead of Deena. After we heard the two-mile split, the field got antsy and picked up the pace significantly. My next mile was 5:45, and this was a “water stop” mile where I had to drink my entire bottle at the same time, which tends to take up some extra energy as well. This abrupt change of pace on the third mile was not something my body would appreciate in the later miles of the race. In the next few miles I stayed at the back of the lead pack and clicked off some 5:50s, right on the pace my coach and I had discussed. At mile six I recognized that I was entirely too tired for these early miles. In Chicago I had cruised through 13 miles feeling like I was jogging in the park. I looked to join the second pack but struggled to stay with them as well.
As the saying goes, “every dog has his day”, and this was not my day. As my miles slowed I got through the race as best I could and focused on small goals like passing one runner ahead of me, then the next. However, I was being passed my many runners as well. Thousands of screaming spectators lined the course, and helped me through this tough race. I knew this was a possible once-in-lifetime experience so I tried to “enjoy” myself despite the pain I was feeling. I tried to take in the sights and sounds. I thought about all of the people who have supported my running for all of these years, and of my mom’s sign that read “Run Proud”, and I knew it was my job to do the absolute best I could that day. No matter how those 6-mile loops felt at the time, I knew it would eventually end and this race would be left to my memory. The worst feeling in the world is regret.
Because of the “loop course” I could see the lead group, and also the mystery runner who continued to lead. I wondered who on earth it could be who was beating Deena by minutes. It turned out to be Magdalena Lewy Boulet, a name I remembered from four years ago. She was back stronger than ever from pregnancy. Still, Deena managed to pass her in the final miles. Blake Russell finished third, a runner who was 4th at the 2004 Marathon Trials. In fourth place, as the US alternate for the Olympic Team was my friend Zoila Gomez. This was Zoila’s day, not my day. I finished 30th in 2:41.31, not a horrible performance, but much below my expectations.
There were a lot of thoughts and feelings rolling through my mind in the week after the race. “What if I had rested through my sickness a little more? What if I had relaxed more in that third mile? Could I have possibly been tougher on that day? What if it had been ‘my day’ on April 20th? How would it feel to be an Olympian? Maybe thirteen really is an unlucky number.” Some of these thoughts left me feeling unsettled. However, if there is one thing I’ve learned, it is how unpredictable this sport is. Sometimes we will never know the answers and we just need to be content with the fact that we trained our hardest, in the smartest way we knew how. We must take what we can from each race, and think about it for a few days. Then it is time to look ahead and move on to the next goal. In the marathon, top performances have so much to do with timing. It isn’t often that all of the pieces come together at the right time, but when they do it is one of the best feelings there is. I believe it is this great challenge and risk that makes running so appealing to us, and that keeps us coming back for more. The great days would never feel so amazing were it not for the bad ones. I am thankful for each and every one of those days, and I am able to look back with no regrets as I look forward to my next goal.
Dana Coons
