Garmin athlete Lauren Olson earns a Boston qualifying time

Yesterday morning started way too early. I had set my
alarm for 3:10am but woke up on my own around 2:50am and decided to just get
going. For a point-to-point marathon, participants park at the finish, then
take a bus to the start line, so this requires being there very, very early. A
girl from North Carolina wearing a Dublin Marathon shirt sat next to me on the
bus to the start. We talked about races, and she asked about the course. I told
her the downhill is really nice, it just pushes you, it doesn’t punish you too
much–it’s a very fast course. Once we got to the start area, I had over an
hour to kill before the gun so I tried to stay warm by a fire pit for awhile
until it was time to get in line for the porta johns. The way the race
organizers handled these logistical aspects, are a big reason why I came back
this year to do the full. Last year was the first year of the Phoenix Marathon
(a misnomer both in that none of it takes place in Phoenix, and last year there
was only a half-marathon and 10k), and they did a great job with the buses,
fire pits, and porta potties–namely in actually having enough to support the
number of runners they had signed up. Sounds easy but it is something most
organizers fail to do.

Finally it was time for the start and I shed my
warm-up clothes and dropped my bag off at the shuttle that would take our
things to the finish line. I made my way to the corral and said hi to Matt who
was pacing the 3:15 group. I didn’t think I’d be running a 3:15 marathon, but I
knew I would be starting it like I was. When the gun went off, I fell into a
very comfortable 6:20ish pace. So comfortable actually that when I saw Joe, we
were able to hold a conversation. During these first few miles I sure was
thankful for gravity and whatever geological processes had formed the Usery
area, as 6:20 is not normally a pace I would ever describe as comfortable.

At the end of the four downhill miles the course
counters with its only significant climb, just around 130ft in a little less
than 2 miles. I didn’t want to push this, just keep some of the momentum I had
going. Before the race I had decided to try a psychological experiment and
changed my metrics on my Forerunner to show my average pace instead of my time,
in addition to my instantaneous pace and my mileage. My goal for the race was
not to let my average pace get above 8:10 as that would signal failing to
qualify for Boston. In the downhill miles I had averaged below 6:30, and now in
the uphill I watched it slowly climb up to 6:40s. I was feeling pretty good
about that though, I still had a lot of room that even if I broke down in the
end I should still qualify.

When I dropped my arm warmers at mile 7 I was still
feeling pretty good, and seeing that the 3:05 pace group wasn’t too far ahead
of me I started to think maybe I would surprise myself. I had taken two pairs
of old socks and cut the toes off to make disposable arm warmers- and I was
very glad I had actually thought to do that (you can tell by my water bottle
mishap at the Double Down that I tend to lack forethought when it comes to what
I need to bring to a race). You want to be warm in the beginning, but for a
marathon you’ll probably take them off with at least 15+ miles to go, and
carrying legit arm warmers with you all that way for no reason other than you
paid good money for them… is rather annoying.

Around mile 8 I started to feel the familiar pain
from my neuromas. I tried to adjust my stride, and not let it affect my
attitude towards the race as I knew thinking about it and letting it scare me
would be the biggest mistake I could make at that point. I just tried to keep
my momentum and was rather successful through mile 11. But at that point my
quads really started hurting. It was a very unfamiliar pain to me, and that DID
scare me a little bit, as I wasn’t sure how to compensate for something like
that. By the time I hit the half-way point I decided to take a potty break
hoping I’d come out feeling better but instead I found that my legs were
seizing up in I way I had never experienced before. I saw the race clock just
turn to 1:36, but the way my legs were feeling… doubt was creeping in. I
started thinking about the fact I hadn’t done any legitimate long runs in over
4 months. Was I under-trained? The conventional marathon training plan calls
for a couple 20+mile runs a month before the race, and here I was with only a
couple 15ers over the whole off-season. I hadn’t really been focusing on this
race specifically. Rather, my winter was spent working on running speed, and my
swimming technique, but whatever endurance I had in me was whatever was
leftover from Ironman Arizona 3 1/2 months ago. Would it be enough?

I kept a close eye on my Forerunner as I watched the
average pace creep higher and higher as it became harder and harder to stay
below 8min/mi. The 3:15 pace group caught up to me and Matt asked me how I was
doing. “I’m really hurting” I said. Matt encouraged me- “You are tougher than
this race!” and I thought… “He’s right!… but I don’t know if I am today.” My
quads were tight and simply not listening to me, and because my feet felt
broken my mind wandered off into a tailspin of- the injections weren’t a cure,
thus not only will this race be a disaster but every race this season will
suck… and when am I going to be able to take off enough time to get surgery?
What if something terrible happens from the surgery? Eventually I realized I
had to get my mind back on track, and tried to focus on the positive. At least
I wasn’t nauseous, and I had created enough room in the first half that as long
as I didn’t resort to walking, Boston was still on the table. Around mile 17 I
started to break the race up into more mentally manageable segments. “Just 3
miles until mile 20.. and then it’s just a 10k”… and then at mile 20… “Just 5
more miles of suffering… being excited to finish will make the last 1.2 seem
easier” I was not correct on that last part. My average pace had been creeping
up and with 3 miles left it was around 7:45 and I was in the worst physical
pain I have ever been in, Ironmans included. When I stopped at aid stations for
water, getting moving again required this odd hop+limp which I performed with
completely straight legs as my quads were not just tight, it seemed as though
they were partially paralyzed. I was reasonably sure I had plenty of room for
Boston yet but knew that allowing myself to back down even a little would
quickly spiral into walking, and that cushion would be gone very fast. In these
final miles the girl I sat next to on the bus to the start line caught up to
me, and I made it my goal not to let her out of my sight. Normally I would make
it my goal to beat her- and I didn’t realize it at the time, but now it strikes
me as odd that it never even occurred to me. It’s like my usual competitive
side had been beaten down, and I was drowning and grasping for a lifeboat.
North Carolina and I played cat and mouse in what to me felt like a death march
all the way to the end. Coming into the finish line I ended up indeed letting
her out of my sight, because I was too enamored with and fixated upon the race
clock- I couldn’t believe it.

As I came in the clock was just striking 3:28 and the
announcer said “Lauren Olson from Mesa, coming in with a Boston qualifying
time” and I literally choked up. It was like the end of my first marathon, with
the same feeling that I couldn’t breathe. And it wasn’t from running, but
because of the gravity of the emotion I felt over this singular goal- only this
time I was breathless out of happiness and having accomplished it. I was quite
disappointed when I finished my Ironmans because I felt absolutely nothing. At
my first one, Chrissy Wellington put my finisher’s medal around my neck- and…
nothing. It was cool to meet her, but it took me months to come to terms with
what I had done, and it never struck me as having been as big of a deal as I
made it out to be in my head before I did it. Finishing yesterday with a Boston
qualifying time was nice in itself, but it was also really great having felt a
legit positive emotion, and having brief reassurance that I am capable of being
happy. Such feelings are why even as I now am walking around like a 90 year old
woman, I am wishing I could get outside and train.

Official results were 3:27:28, 23rd woman overall,
5th 25-29F.

I want to thank my parents who came out to the finish
line and got to witness one of the more meaningful athletic accomplishments
I’ve had in my career thusfar. Achieving a goal is all the more better when you
can share it.

Lessons Learned: Leave no room for doubt in your
training. If you believe you need 20 miles runs before a marathon, do some 20-mile
runs. Talk to your coach if you feel there is something missing in your
training plan. Also–never, ever, give up, and you will be glad you stuck it
out.

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