The Boston Marathon 2016 – Race Recap: Part 4

Miss Part 1? Miss Part 2? Miss Part 3?

It would be a shame not to fill you in on what happened AFTER the marathon. After all, some of the best things happen when you least expect them to. This day was no exception.

Like I said at the end of Part 3, I was relieved to see my husband. Funny, but with the pedestrian crowd and the residual chatter and street noise, I don’t quite remember what we talked about. I’m sure whatever I had told him went in one ear and out the other.

As we approached our hotel, he was ready to cross the street, but I asked if we could keep walking. I wasn’t ready to stop just yet.

Earlier, when they had given us our foil blanket, I took mine off. I was just roasting. But as we walked around the block, the temperature outside, including mine, dropped like a rock. I was suddenly shivering and my Raynauds was rearing its ugly face. I wrapped myself back up in that blanket while we continued our walk. Yeah, it must have been 20° colder here than it was 10 miles inland. Of course, I’m a meteorologist, so I get this. I just didn’t want to accept it.

We circled the hotel and found a sweet runner to snap a photo of us together.

And my husband snapped mine in front of the patrol car of Boston’s finest. Then I was ready to head upstairs. My husband wondered about all the white faces he was seeing. He then realized it was the salt that they had sweat out during the race! He didn’t notice any on me and then asked me the question why. Well, I guess I had the right balance of salt and water in my body. I must have done something right. But, every time I licked my lips, I could taste the salt. It was there, you just couldn’t see it.

The hotel was a mob scene of runners. Not unlike 2014. This time, however, I got a really cool cookie. I don’t eat cookies, so this one will remain untouched for quite some time. In fact, right now it sits on my night stand. I wonder how long it will take before my kids find it.

The main difference between 2014 and 2016 is that we would be staying another night. Two years ago, I immediately got into my sister’s car and we drove back to New York. I don’t think that was a smart thing to do, in hindsight. I wanted to play this trip like Chicago. We would unwind a little and I’d get my legs up into the air immediately, then we would shower and begin our dinner quest, putting on a few more miles via walking. It sounds ludicrous, but I think it does wonders for keeping the post race DOMS at bay.

There was a line for the elevators at the hotel. My husband asked “I suppose you don’t want to climb 11 flights of stairs right now, huh?”

The answer was a resounding “NO”. It moved quickly enough and we were there in no time flat.

The hotel employees were congratulating me as I walked (stumbled) down the hallway. 🙂

In the room and off came my sneakers, after I downed another full bottle of water. I laid on the bed and put those legs UP! And I praised them. Those beautiful, ugly, stocky, pasty white legs of mine. Yup. I praised them.

I started a social media frenzy while my husband first inspected, then polished off my goody bag. He’s good for that.

Before I knew it, I was telling stories again, as they came back to me. Again, I think they went in one ear and out the other. That’s OK, though. Im quite used to it, actually.

My husband sleeping with the goody bag.

Within 10 minutes, he was out like a light. It just cracks me up. WHO just ran 26.2 miles?

When he woke up, I immediately started deluging him with what we should do that night. He told me I was way to giddy for just running a marathon. Yeah, that would be me. I shuffled into the shower. It was the best I could do.

He was already cleaned and showered, so we were out of the room pretty dang quick after a last minute decision to change into jeans. It wasn’t warm out there. I felt confident now to don my new Boston Marathon 2016 jacket that I couldn’t wait to wear. No one really liked it this year..except me. Leave it to me to be the odd one out. Of course, anything with neon in it just calls my name.

It took us longer to descend in the elevator this evening than it took us to ascend earlier this afternoon. The place was a mob scene, still.

As we made our way to the street, we noticed there were still runners coming in from the marathon. I take it for granted that not everyone runs a sub 4-hour marathon. Good on them for sticking it out!

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According to my Fitbit, we started our journey around 5:30 pm. That sounds about right.

Our first restaurant choice was a dud. You couldn’t even get through the door.The place was more than packed. 3-deep at the bar meant no beer for daddy and that wouldn’t do.

Off we went to Newbury Street. That is where we ate the night before and there were a few choice restaurants we could hit. I pulled out my Google maps and began to search again.

There were quite a few empty tables up and down the street, but the menus didn’t suit us. I finally discovered a hole in the wall Mexican place a few blocks further west, and that is where our adventure began.

It took a long while for a waiter to come over. Just as we were ready to walk out, we got waited on. We ordered some drinks and appetizers and waited again. But soon, things started to roll along. The food was good, and the drinks were better. My husband had two margaritas…I had one with a few glasses of water. I just wanted to stay hydrated.

Time to move on. We headed to another place on the Google Maps, but it too was much to crowded. No time to wait. So we headed to Joe’s Bar and Grill.

The woman said she could seat us right away, but we like the bar and the action. The food was very American, and we figured we could get that anywhere. So, we walked out.

There was an Indian place we spotted next, and they served drinks. We walked in and the place was practically empty. But after ordering some interesting cocktails, I realized nothing on the menu was gluten free. I told my husband to just order whatever he wanted and I didn’t have to eat anything here, but we just decided to finish the drink and move on. I think they were insulted that we didn’t order any food. Oh well.

We hit a few more places that were completely packed so we kept on. There was a seafood restaurant with a raw bar that I really wanted to eat at, but the husband said the crowd was too young and their cocktails were served out of a fish bowl. He wasn’t having it.

Ah! Got my Manhattan!

Next, I found a burger joint, 5-Napkin Burger, that looked promising. They had appetizer wings. That always works for me…plus signature drinks. We started at a table in the bar, but soon a few bar stools opened up so we grabbed them. I immediately chugged down some water, and we ordered an appetizer and the drinks. The drinks were good…the food, not so much, but we got some great advice from the bartender about where to go next. That made it all worth it.

An unsuccessful attempt to get a photo of the view.

The bartender said “The Top of the Hub all the way at the top of the Prudential Tower.” As we were paying our tab, a middle aged fellow in the back of the bar passed out. Not due to alcohol, but it appeared to be after effects of the marathon. I sure hope he was OK.

To get to the Top of the Hub, we had to go through an indoor mall. Who knew? If I had known that it was there the day before, I’d have suggested we visit it. They had some neat shops in there that would have been fun to browse though. We finally found the entrance to the Prudential tower. The young couple next to us were dressed to the nines. We weren’t. 52 flights up. My ears popped. Yeah, baby. Great view…great eats…great cocktails. Well, one for me…two for my husband. He was doing two for my every one.

After the stomach slamming elevator ride to sea level, we were out into the mall once again, this time, the stores were shut down. It was after 8:00 pm. We got out into the street and tried to re-orient ourselves. My husband was sure he knew the way back to our hotel, which was where we were headed, to perhaps have one more cocktail and an appetizer at the bar. On our way, we passed a few nifty places, mainly chain restaurants and such. But we came across a hotel bar that looked promising. My husband wanted to poo poo it as a hotel bar, but I said, “you never know. It could be like OUR hotel bar.” Well, that worked, and we stepped inside.

Immediately we were greeted by a small but obstructive gathering of marathon jackets and plain clothes men. My husband became immediately annoyed because they were blocking the entrance to the bar. I could see the flashes of phone cameras and the women posing with someone…but who?

O…M…G…I was floored. I turned to my husband and said “Do you KNOW who that is?”

One of the women overheard and said, “No, he has no clue.” Obviously she was speaking from experience of her own husband.

It was Meb. Yeah. THE Meb Keflezighi. The 2014 Boston Marathon winner. OMG. Literally tongue tied and flabbergasted. After I told, rather explained, to my husband who he was, he said, “Want me to get a picture?” HELL YES I WANT YOU TO GET A PICTURE!

But Meb was quickly moving out, and I felt awful tugging him back.

“Oh, I know you just want to go to your room, sir, but I’d be so honored if I could get a  photo with my running hero.”

I told him how I earned another trip to Boston, and how he, at 38 inspired me not to give up at 49. He smiled broadly, and said “Of course, let’s get a photo.”

And we got a photo. A series of them, in fact. And considering my husband was half in the bag, he did a pretty decent job.

 

Yeah. Me and Meb. Classic!

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I could go home now…Everything I wanted the day to be…all of it…stellar. In more ways than I could have imagined.

We couldn’t find a seat at this hotel bar, anyway. What made me drag my husband in there in the first place is beyond me. But I went with my gut. Or someone else had a hand in the matter. I have to believe the latter.

NOW, we went back to our hotel.

Back at our hotel bar, and we waited a bit for a seat…I think. At this point, it gets rather fuzzy. I don’t believe we waited long.

We sat next to another couple, the husband of which ran the marathon. I had to show him my Meb photo. He got that familiar glaze in his eyes and the Cheshire smile. “Oh my goodness,” he said. “Good for you!” Yeah, good for me.

I had a modified Manhattan, just some Jack Daniels with a little cherry liquor. I have no idea what my husband ordered. He got some sliders and I got some Brussels sprouts. Oh! I think we got some dessert, too…

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My Fitbit revealed the damage for the day. Almost 35 miles? Yeah, ok.

I swear we were in bed by 11:30 pm but my time isn’t adding up. It is possible that the time stamp on the photos are central time, then it would make sense. Yeah, a lot of liquor was had by these two party animals. Enough that I woke up feeling like crap. That sucks. But I had to tell myself, “Theresa…you just ran the BOSTON MARATHON! You are allowed to misbehave a little.”

And that I did. After I showered, I got dressed and suddenly it hit me. MY JACKET!! I left it in the damn bar last night! CRAP!!

I knew there was no hope, but I went downstairs anyway. No jacket. Nada. Nothing. God dammit. Two jackets gone this weekend. What a pisser.

Back up to the room, and my husband asked where we could get another. I felt so damn guilty about the whole damn thing. I said we could go back to the Adidas store next to the Convention Center, so we took a morning walk. I bought a new jacket even though the guilt was beyond tolerable. I even turned around once to return it. My husband grabbed my elbow and said, “No. Let’s go.”

Back to the hotel, we headed upstairs and grabbed our luggage in preparation to the way to the rental car garage. It would be a little further this time and it was chilly and windy. The city was still disassembling from the marathon. It is amazing how quickly they could get it all back to normal.

After getting the rental, and a few wrong turns, we were finally on our way back to Hartford. It was almost noon, yet our flight wasn’t until 4:11 pm. The trip home wasn’t as smooth as the trip there, but we made it home to Minnesota and our girls on time, despite the hiccups.

We were picked up from the airport by a close friend. She asked me how I did as compared to the last time I ran Boston. I had to think about it a little bit. 4:03:49 vs. 3:43:57. Almost 20 minutes…20 MINUTES faster. Even my husband was impressed.

 

Stay tuned for some final thoughts about the Boston Marathon 2016.

 

 

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