My Boston Marathon 2007!

When last we left her, our heroine was struggling with a broken head and extreme sleep deprivation. I soon realized that, Jeanne, you could do this kind of hair-brained no-sleep thing when you were 20, but not so much at 50!!

On Marathon Monday (4/16) I was up early, feeling hungover, chomping at the bit, ready to GO GO GO!!! I wanted plans, maps, cameras. What to wear? When to leave? Synchronize your watches people! I was so determined not to miss Dianna and jeff! Or Michelle, who was orchestrating the whole support train, along with April Anne.

I think I finally drove R. to distraction asking her advice about weather, when we should leave, wasn't it time to leave yet, etc. You'd have thought (or maybe you ARE thinking) that I was running this thing. As if! I decided it was easier just to wear everything I owned. (At 7:30 a.m., in Boston proper where I was located, the wind was howling and the rain pelting.) Unfortunately, at the very same time I was reporting "apocalyptic" weather conditions to Runner Susan, jeff was phoning in with the news that the weather looked great! Low winds, slightly misty ... conditions=perfect! (Next time let's get our story straight people!)

We made it to the first checkpoint, Checkpoint Happy Swallow Tavern (or something like that) in Framingham, mile 7, at 10:30 and hung around waiting.

Mistake one: As the first press truck passed by, I assumed it was tracking the the elite men, and that I had missed seeing them by mere seconds.

Mistake two: As the second press truck passed by, I glanced up and saw that THOSE WERE THE ELITE MEN. The first truck was following the wheelchair leaders. So I missed THAT photo, too. Sigh.

But I did manage to get myself together enough to get a shot of some of the women's leaders:

(If you're interested: #7: Russian Lyubov Denisova—finishing in 7th place for women overall, in 2:38:00
#50: Californian Mary A. Akor—finishing in 11th place for women overall in 2:41:01
#61 Californian Christine H. Lundy—finishing in 12th place for women overall, in 2:41:14.)

We finally caught up with Michele and entourage: Di's parents, husband, Michele and her husband, and called each other (on cell phones) from across the street. We dashed back and forth a few times trying not to bump into runners, and the tension mounted!

(I also want to give a shout-out here to SteveRunner of Phedippidations, who did a great job, and who I was also hoping to see! And my Spinning Instructor! But, I missed them both. Story of my life.)

Finally, Jason spotted them, and trusty R. got the money photo! Several of them! We didn't know it at the time, but those were the only photos we'd get of them running.

Three cars raced to mile 13 (OK, it's entirely possible that we stopped at Dunkin' Donuts on the way, but only for a minute!). Alas, somehow they were too fast for us and we missed them.

It was on to the finish! Michelle and entourage hung at mile 25ish, and R. and I hung right past the finish, but as usual, I managed to watch both Dianna and jeff pass right by me (in my defense, it was a little crowded).

(Just past the finish, where I missed seeing Dianna and jeff.)

(Some random finishers.)

We assembled at the assigned meeting place, and anxiously awaited the arrival of the rockstars:

(Thank God for cell phones! Michelle's husband, Michelle coordinating, April Anne, and R.).

(The delightful April Anne and Michelle)

(Does this look like a woman who just ran a marathon? In 3:22??)

(The team, and since I took these photos, of course, I missed Jason. Sigh.)

And that my friends, concludes this year's edition of my Boston Marathon Epic Spectator Report. Thanks for letting me ride on your coattails for three posts, Dianna and jeff!

How I Made It to Boston, Part 47

The train finally dumped me and my concussed head off at South Street Station, Boston, where my dear friend R. was waiting. It was raining. No, strike that. It was monsooning, only without the nice warm part. It was cold. It was just like the Boston I remembered from my wasted youth—gray and miserable from September through May. God, I love it.

R. had to work, so I asked if I could go with her. She is an accomplished photographer for the Boston Herald. We both started out at Boston University's School of Communication in 19blahdeblah. She stuck it out, and I bailed to get a degree in possibly the most useless field on earth: rehabilitation counseling. (Trust me: there were no jobs for a 22-year-old with a B.S. in that obscure field.) But, no regrets, right? The time was not right for me and wouldn't be right until 22 years later when I finally got my M.A. in journalism.

Live and learn.

In all those years, I had never seen R. in action. She's photographed just about everone you've ever heard of—politicians, musicians, authors, sports stars—and superstars, and just plain regular people. Crises and kids splashing puddles. South Africa. You name it, she's photographed it.

Today (that would be last Sunday, 4/15, try to keep up), she was assigned to photograph a ceremony at Faneuil Hall commemorating Holocaust Rememberance Day. It was a moving ceremony; I had a place to sit and listen to survivors of the death camps, and their children, share their stories, as I watched R. deftly take photos without disturbing the ceremony. It's not so easy.

After that we scuttled back to the Herald's offices, and I got to sit in what used to be the "darkroom" and watch R. do her thing. Some other photographers were there and we all had a merry old time talking about changes in the news biz, the unions, being sarcastic and making fun of things. My kind of peeps!

It's funny how the darkroom has been totally transformed. I remember when there was a circular door to go through so that you didn't let in any light. Now the room is well lit, and littered with desktops and laptops and all kinds of electronic paraphenalia.

Wait, I'm losing the thread ... where was I?

Right. Marathon.

After that, we hightailed it back to R.'s place for a lovely dinner, and somehow I believe I kept up my part of the conversation, which mostly consisted of me asking what the symptoms of a concussion were, my head drooping towards the table and drool running out of my mouth. I make a fun houseguest.

We were all in bed (no, not together!) by 10 p.m., while outside the wind whipped furiously—nay, some would say EPIC-ly! Alarms wer set for a 7:30 a.m. wakeup to get a jumpstart on the Big Day.

(R. and friend)

Part Next: The Big Day.

UPDATED: Of course, I forgot to include a link to the best photo of all! Blame the concussion.