“If the hill has its own name, then it’s probably a pretty tough hill.” – Marty Stern
Heartbreak Hill has been both a challenge and a triumph for me. I have cleared the infamous incline five times. For those who have followed my journey from the start, you may recall my first marathon, the Marine Corps Marathon in 2011. With a finish time of 3 hours and 37 minutes, I qualified for the 2013 Boston Marathon. At the time, I had no idea that I had the potential to achieve such a remarkable feat. But I persevered and proved to myself that I was capable of reaching new heights.
I prepared for my chance to run in the Boston Marathon. I approached my training program with determination to enhance my running performance. I made sure to mix up my workouts, from cross-training to specific track exercises aimed at boosting my speed. I knew that I was going to the biggest stage of them all, and I took it very seriously. This was the Boston Marathon after all, and I was determined to give it my all.
The Boston marathon is world-renowned and first commenced in 1897, making it the oldest annual marathon in the world. As a result of its history, along with its reputation as one of the most challenging, it is on many runners’ bucket lists, making it the most sought-after race in the world. Boston is unique in that it’s a qualified race. In other words, to register for the race, you must have already run a marathon at a particular (relatively fast) pace.
The 2013 Boston Marathon would be my third time running a marathon. I was ready and felt stronger than my previous 2 marathons I had run.
At this point in my life, I was still married to my first husband, and we had once lived on Martha’s Vineyard, MA. We had moved to Beaufort, SC. We drove from South Carolina to Martha’s Vineyard with our three young sons and stayed at my father’s home on the island for a few days before the marathon. I planned on leaving for Boston the day before the marathon, which always takes place on the third Monday of April, Patriots Day. My husband and sons would drive up on Monday morning and take their place along the route with the rest of the amazing spectators. There is truly nothing better than seeing your children cheering for you as you run along the route.
Unfortunately, just a month before the Boston Marathon, a close friend of mine and my husband’s passed away. We knew him from our Martha’s Vineyard days. As we lived in SC, our friends decided to hold the memorial service for Stu while we were on MV. I told my husband that it would be okay for him and the boys to stay on the island and not come up to Boston to watch me run. So, they stayed behind, and I was left to face the marathon on my own.
I’m never really on my own, I’m fortunate to have a supportive community of running friends from all over. During the Boston Marathon, I stayed with my friend Meredith from New Jersey. We met at the Marine Corps Marathon in DC through a mutual friend and have stayed in touch since then. To make things easier for the Boston Marathon, we decided to share a hotel room at the Copley Square Hotel, which was conveniently located just a block or two from the finish line. The hotel was also in close proximity to the Back Bay area of Boston, which was the place to be the night before the race.
On April 14th, the night before the marathon, I had dinner with other mother runners and reconnected with a good friend from the Vineyard who was living in Boston. We stayed out a bit longer than we should have, considering we were running a marathon the next morning, but the excitement of Marathon Monday was infectious. Despite our late night, Meredith and I said goodnight to our fellow runners and headed back to the Copley Square Hotel for a good night’s sleep.
April 15, 2013, it was time to shine! Meredith and I made a plan to get our coffee fix from the Boylston St. Dunkin Donuts shop, which was close to our hotel and the finish line. She and I were decked out in our 2013 Boston Marathon signature blue and yellow with unicorn runner jackets. Meredith wore a bedazzled headband, and I wore a red headband that simply said “Mother Runner.” We clutched our D&D coffee, walked over to the finish line, and said to it, “We will see you later!”
In 2013, 26,839 runners lined up in Hopkinton to journey 26.2 miles to Boston. That is a lot of people.
Meredith and I joined hundreds of other runners at Boston Common and watched as an endless line of school buses arrived to transport us to the Athletes Village in Hopkinton, the starting point of the marathon.
For those who haven’t run a marathon and are curious about what happens in the Athletes’ Village while waiting to start the 26.2-mile course, I’ll tell you – you spend a lot of time in line for the port-o-potties. The lines are long, and once you finally get your chance, you end up back in line again. It’s an unbelievable urge to pee every 5 minutes!
To organize the large number of runners, most major marathons have start waves. The first wave is reserved for elite runners who finish long before the rest of the pack. Meredith and I were in the second wave out of four. Each wave has 8 corrals, and your assigned corral is based on your qualifying time. I was in Wave 2, Corral 6, while Meredith was in Wave 2, Corral 8. After sharing a final hug, we headed to our respective corrals and awaited the starting gun. And then…on your mark….GO!
For the first half of the marathon, I prefer not to listen to music. I want to soak in everything: the cheers of the spectators, the sounds of street music, and the chatter of the people around me. Running with a herd of people is different from running solo. It can be tricky to navigate the crowded course, with the risk of tripping, getting pushed, or elbowed. The water stations are every 2 miles, and I always make a point to stop and hydrate. It’s a tricky maneuver, though. I don’t really stop to drink the water; instead, I do a run, grab, and go, trying not to slip on the smushed cups scattered on the wet ground.
I had trained extensively and felt confident on race day. The notorious Newton Hills, which include Heartbreak Hill at mile 20, posed a challenge, but I was able to power through them while maintaining my pace. As I ran past Fenway Park, the cheers from the crowd gave me an extra burst of energy, and I sprinted towards the finish line. Finally, after 26.2 grueling miles, I completed the 2013 Boston Marathon in 3 hours and 27 minutes, a personal best by 5 minutes. The feeling of accomplishment was indescribable – I had achieved my goal of finishing one of the world’s most prestigious marathons at the age of 41, as a mother of three. It was an incredible runner’s high that I will never forget.
Here’s something non-marathon runners may not know: when you finish running 26.2 miles, the race is not quite over yet. You still have to walk what feels like another 5 miles to get through the finishers’ line. After receiving your medal, a bag with water and food (which you’re usually not hungry for), you have to search for the UPS truck that has your participant bag with the items you’ll need when you’re finished (like your phone, wallet, and hotel key). Once you’ve retrieved your bag, you have to navigate your way to find a cab or some other form of transportation to get back to where you need to go. All of this can be quite the ordeal.
As for me, I made it through the long line and collected my belongings, only to realize that I had to walk back towards the finish line and all the way to my hotel. It was a long, slow trek, but I was grateful to have completed the race and to have the satisfaction of knowing that I had pushed myself to my limits and accomplished something truly remarkable.
My friend Chantel from Martha’s Vineyard was a spectator on Bolyston St. She was a runner too but did not qualify to run Boston that year. She traveled up to Boston to support and cheer me and another good friend on. We had spoken the day before and agreed to meet up once I was done, but I was done. I did not have much energy left, and I missed my boys. It was time for me to say goodbye to Boston and head back to MV. I called Chantel as I was walking back to the Copley, telling her I had a change of plans and was going to head to South Station and catch a bus to Woods Hole (Woods Hole is where one would take the ferry back to the island). She completely understood, and we both said, “see you back on the island.”
Chantel then decided to change her location. She was still waiting for her other friend and thought she would have a better chance of seeing her if she moved closer to Fenway Park. Due to this fortuitous decision, Chantel unknowingly put herself out of harm’s way. At that time, it was roughly 2:30 p.m., and little did anyone know that in just 20 minutes, everything was about to change.
Once I left Copley Square, I was on the hunt for a cab ride to South Station. I walked towards the Westin Hotel, which was a block off of Boylston St. and close to the finish line. I stood for a few minutes trying to wave down a cab, and then finally one stopped for me. The cab was more like a station wagon, and the driver asked me if there were others joining me. I told him no and that I really wanted to get to South Station. He was reluctant because it was just me, but he said, “Okay.” I don’t remember his name. He had a Jamaican accent. I got into his cab, shut the door, and we drove away for 2 seconds. Then it happened. The first explosion. I felt the car move. I looked to the sky, an instant response because of what happened on 9/11. The radio in the cab stopped working, my cell phone stopped working. Then, the second explosion. That seemed worse than the first. I think it was my mind understanding that whatever this was, it wasn’t good, and we were uncertain of what was going to happen next. I started to panic. We couldn’t go anywhere because instantly the streets were blocked. Blocked with people running around cars and cars not moving. I kept thinking, “What do I do?! Should I get out and run away like everyone else? Fuck! I just ran 26.2 miles, now I have to run in jeans with luggage to who knows where?!” My cab driver started shouting, “A bomb! A bomb! We are being bombed!” This did not help to calm me.
I immediately tried to call my family and friends, but the cell phone towers were overwhelmed, and I couldn’t get through. I felt stranded in a city that was under attack. I tried to stay calm and collected, but my mind was racing with fear and confusion.
Finally, after several attempts, I was able to get my dad on the phone. I gave him a quick brief and asked him to put the news on and let me know if anything was being reported. Just as he turned the TV on, our connection was dropped. I kept one hand on my luggage ready to bolt out of the cab if I needed to.
My phone rang, and it was my dad. He said, “Deni! Get out of Boston as fast as you can. Bombs went off at the finish line, people are dead, injured, they are calling this a terrorist attack. Please get to safety.”
I finally arrived at South Station, but the journey was far from smooth. I had been in the cab for over an hour, when it should have only taken 10 minutes. Walking through South Station was surreal, and announcements on the loudspeakers were urging people to report any suspicious bags. Everyone around me seemed to be in a state of shock, many of whom had also been at the marathon. None of us knew what had happened, and the atmosphere felt like something out of the Twilight Zone.
I safely made it to Woods Hole and on the ferry back to my family and friends by 9 p.m. that evening. It certainly was a long day full of many emotions. It’s been 10 years since the attack, and I have returned to the Boston Marathon several times. In 2014, 2015, 2016, and 2019, I crossed the finish line once again.
This Mother Runner is not done yet. I’ll be back to Boston and plan on crossing that finish line for the 6th time.
As the years have gone by, the memories of Martin Richard, Krystle Marie Campbell, and Lü Lingzi still remain fresh in my mind. Their lives were tragically cut short. It’s also important to remember the hundreds of others who were injured and impacted by the events of that day. The Boston Marathon bombing was a senseless act of violence, and my heart goes out to all those affected by it.
The Dish by Deni 