"Right on Hereford, left on Boylston."  As I picked up my race packet at the Boston Marathon Expo last Friday, I saw many  t-shirts and   baseball caps with those words, and I began to visualize myself making that right on Hereford Street, then left on Boylston as I headed for the Boston Marathon finish line!  And then the butterflies started!

Saturday afternoon I visited Quincy Market and Faneuil Hall. The streets are filled with tourists, locals, runners in all forms of Boston Marathon apparel, food carts, merchandise vendors, and street performers. I walked around for at least four hours.  When I got a text from a running friend inviting me to join her, her husband, and her son (who was running the marathon), I declined only because my body was telling me I needed to rest. 

I wanted to attend Easter services on Sunday, so I asked the desk attendant at the hotel to recommend a church close by. I was staying very close to the airport, and I learned the airport had five chapels! I thought the desk attendant was kidding when he said the Catholic church at the airport was called "Our Lady of the Airways."

Attending Easter services at that little chapel was the best decision I could have made. Father Richard walked around before mass visiting with each person there, asking the runners where they were from and if they had run Boston before.  He was kind, jovial, and humble.  But it was his sermon that reminded me of the importance of having faith.  Father talked about runners, and how we rely on stamina to get us through long or tough runs. He talked about how hard we work to overcome obstacles, including fatigue, adverse weather conditions, tough courses, etc. Then he made a reference to "spiritual stamina." He mentioned how many of us give up on our faith so quickly when things don't go the way we want them to.  He talked about the passage in the Bible where Jesus commands Peter to come out of the boat and walk on the water toward him. Peter begins to walk on the water but quickly loses his faith when the wind kicks up, and he sinks.  What would happen if, as runners, we lost our faith so quickly? What if every time the wind kicked up we said, "This is too difficult, I'm going to quit?" We know that when we set a running goal, we need to keep going. One Boston runner said that if he struggled with a hill in his training, he would say, "What am I going to do when I get to Heartbreak Hill in Boston? I'm going to power through!"  So that's what he did in his training too.

Before Father ended mass, he asked the marathon runners to take a little "hop" on the course at some point and think about him. I promised I would.

Spiritual belief can be a belief in God, or in any higher power.  The point is, spiritual strength enhances our lives, whether it's our athletic endeavors like running, or in other areas of our lives. I would later draw on this as I struggled during the second half of the Boston Marathon.

Sunday afternoon I did a little more sight-seeing, ran about two miles along the Charles River--just to say I did, and fretted a bit over the weather, since temperatures were approaching 90 degrees that day. Later that evening I carefully laid out all my race clothes, pinned on my race number, assembled my race day nutrition, and packed my bag for gear check so that in the morning, everything would be ready. 

Monday, Patriot's Day, the Boston Marathon. I had to be up by 4:15 a.m. in order to catch the 6 a.m. chartered bus that would take us to Athlete's Village in Hopkinton, the start of the Boston Marathon. I was in the 3rd wave of runners, which didn't start until 10:50 a.m.  It was going to be a long morning before I even started running! But it was all fun, meeting people on the bus, going into Athlete's Village and finding friends, listening to the excited chatter of runners, and stepping over thousands of runners laying on the ground resting or meditating.

Finally, it was time for our wave to line up in the start corrals, and like cattle, we were carefully herded to our proper locations. The gun went off, and my adrenaline kicked in!  Although the temperature was already approaching 70 degrees, there was some cloud cover, so I felt pretty good and took off a little too fast. I realized by the first 5K mark that I was pushing too hard, so I began to back off and settle in. I remembered my promise to Deb not to "be me" (her words) and feel like I had to run a certain (fast) time.  I slowed down, and at mile 4, I said a prayer and did a little "hop" for Father Richard.  By mile 5, I was high-fiving every child that held out their hand, and some adults too! A few more miles into it I saw a couple from Canada (you can tell--they're usually decked out in red and white, with maple leaf logos all over their clothing). I smiled and said, " Go, Canada! My son-in-law is a Canadian." To which they replied, "Then so are you, kind of!"

I was having fun, and the first half  went very well, particularly as I ran through the Wellesley College "scream tunnel" between miles 12 and 13, where the college co-eds come out in droves to cheer, high-five, and kiss the runners. 

Not soon after that, however, the wheels began to fall off. The clouds disappeared when I was about 10 miles into the race, temperatures were in the mid 70s, and the sun was beating down on us. For every cup of water I drank at an aid station, I dumped another one on my head and still another down my t-shirt. 

By miles 14/15, I felt a little ill from the heat. I couldn't stomach any more Gatorade, but I was so thirsty that I began drinking two cups of water at every aid station. Also, I took advantage of the fire hydrants which were open, and I ran through their spray and soaked myself. But it didn't seem to be enough, and by the time I hit Heartbreak Hill, I felt dispirited.  I typically look forward when I'm running up a hill, but I didn't want to face anyone, so my gaze turned to the ground. I was struggling big time. Fortunately, although my gaze was averted, it didn't stop people from yelling at me, "Go Chicago!" (Because I was wearing a bright yellow Chicago Marathon t-shirt. In fact, I lost count of how many people screamed, "Go Chicago" or "Go Cubs!") These marathon fans believed in me.

About that time I also came across a spectator with a sign that read, "NE 3; ATL 28. 3rd 2:12." I knew it referred to a football score, but I didn't understand the significance.  I later learned that it was the score when the Atlanta Falcons were leading the Patriots 28-3 in Super Bowl 51, but then the Patriots had a comeback and went on to score an additional 31 points to win the game 34-28.  The message he was sending to the runners?  "Don't give up! The game's not over 'til it's over!" This stranger believed in me too.

It was about that time when Father Richard's words came back to me.  I realized I was losing my "spiritual stamina." I knew that I had to use the same perseverance I draw on for the physical part of my training to get me through these last few miles. I had to dig deep spiritually.

It wasn't easy, because I was hurting physically.  My legs were cramping, and I had forgotten to pack salt pills. My stomach was rumbling, and I was feeling weaker with every step. "Remember to have faith. One step at a time," is what I told myself. Then I saw the back of a t-shirt of a woman ahead of me which said, "Never mess with a woman who runs 26.2 miles for fun." It made me smile and lifted my spirits. I kept going.

Soon I also made the decision to stop looking at the ground and take in the sights around me.  Before long, I caught sight of the huge Citgo sign, which sits at the top of a hill and can be seen as you approach mile 25, so you know it's only a little over a mile to go!

My legs barely wanting to move in the final mile, I trudged along at what seemed to be a snail's pace.  Soon I noticed runners making a right turn, and I looked up at the street sign--sure enough, it was Hereford Street! It's a slight hill up Hereford before the turn on Boylston, but the crowds are going wild! You feel like they're all there for you.  I make the left on Boylston and see the glorious Boston Marathon finish line, and the decibel level from the screams of the crowds grows even more.  I hear one final, "Go Chicago!" as I near the finish line. And when I crossed that finish line--even though I was dizzy, sick to my stomach, and my calves cramping badly--tears of joy and overcoming streamed down my face, and I said a quiet prayer of thanks for Father Richard.

I do believe physical training and spiritual/mental training is what gets us through the tough times, in running and in life.  I'm almost surprised I was able to stay vertical at the end of the marathon, because I later learned why I felt so bad.  The medical personnel convinced me to go to the medical tent after I finished, so I must have looked pretty bad. I found out I had depleted my electrolytes and my sodium level was dangerously low because of sweating so much, plus drinking too much water and not enough Gatorade.  They had me drink salty broth and eat potato chips to bring my sodium levels back up. Then they massaged the knots out of my calves to get my legs to stop cramping (the massage hurt worse than the cramps though!). And while I was cringing from the painful massage, at the same time I was smiling ear-to-ear as my phone lit up again with text messages of congratulations! I said another prayer, one of gratitude, for being  blessed with so many friends and family who support me and my sometimes crazy goals!

When I got back to Grand Rapids and shared my story with my Mom--including the trip to the medical tent--she quietly asked me, " You don't have to do this anymore, do you? Ten times is enough, right?"  Truthfully, I don't "have" to do it anymore. I could stop at 10 Boston Marathons. That's a nice number.  But the journey to Boston this year was about so much more than running, and for that reason I don't want to stop. So since I'm already qualified, I'll probably go back next year for #11.  And while I'm there, I might just buy one of those t-shirts that says, " Right on Hereford, left on Boylston." It will be a reminder that as long as we keep the faith, we will make that final turn that takes us to the finish line.