Podcasts about desi linden

I revisited a great quote today from Des Linden, 2018 Boston Marathon champion and the new world record holder for the 50K distance and I like it so much that I thought it would make a good RICHual And while Des is certainly a great runner, this quote works for business and life in general. “Some days it just flows and I feel like I'm born to do this, other days it feels like I'm trudging through hell. Every day I make the choice to show up and see what I've got, and to try and be better."

In Episode 72, we uncovered lots of strong emotions and provoked some great discussion on our Podcast Facebook Group. We thought in this episode, we would respond to some of those thoughts and feelings with more of our own, but really, we must congratulate those who went out for the Boston Marathon this month, as well as all of you who are pushing out the boundaries of your comfort zone by challenging yourself in your own way.    Feaster Five Use Discount Code JEN for $5.00 off Virtual Registration   Desi Linden’s Boston Dedication on Instagram   Noxgear Tracer 360 Visibility Vest    Join the Runners Without Limits Group on Facebook   For more informative and fun content related to all things running and then some visit the Running Without Limits (Heather Jergensen) channel on YouTube and Facebook   Follow us on Instagram: Heather: @CoachHeatherJ Jen: @AQuiltingJewel About Us Heather and Jen are a coach/athlete duo that talk about all things running during a weekly podcast. Heather has been an athlete for most of her life. She took her love of swimming and entered the triathlon world, eventually crushing Ironman. She eventually married her love of running and all things Disney and tackled a number of runDisney runs. This is where she met Jen. Jen began running during her weight loss journey half a dozen years ago. She previously only ran from base to base as a varsity softball player and loathed running. But thanks to her friends and a supportive network, she ran her first 5K. Heather and Jen met as Jen was training for her first half marathon and eventually her first full marathon thanks to Heather’s encouragement. The two are now dear friends and share a coach/athlete relationship. This friendship and love for running comes through on their podcast.    The information contained in this channel is for general information purposes only. Always consult your physician before beginning any exercise program. This general information is not intended to diagnose any medical condition or to replace your healthcare professional.

63 Mike Power Julian eases his way through a niggle. Experiments with race nutrition ahead of Lake Biwa. Brad’s in the gym, sets the course record on his recovery loop and checking his motivation. Brady rolls 400m reps with Julian, nails the Sunday long run. Hobart Marathon is taken out by Dion Finocchiaro and Meriem Daoui, while Nick Earl and Samantha Phillips won the half marathon.Results Two Bays Trail Run between Dromana and Cape Schank George Hedley & Simone Brick won the 28k while Ash Watson & Steph Austen dominate the 56k.Results  Boston Marathon winners Desi Linden and Yuki Kawauchi headline 2019 Elite Field https://www.iaaf.org/news/news/boston-marathon-2019-elite-fields Julian has some rebuttal from the discussion for his selection for the 2018 Run of the Year before Listener Liam asks about how to go about practising race-day fueling in the marathon.  Rob De Castella winning the 1982 Commonwealth Games Brisbane Comm Games Marathon https://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-04-14/robert-de-castella-wins-brisbane-commonwealth/9604106 Olympic 5000m runner Mike Power chats with Brad, going through his impressive PBs from the 800m to the 10k that features 3:58 for the mile at the Prefontaine meet and the U/16 1000m World Junior record. Mike takes it back to the beginning doing laps in the school parking lot and then Little Athletics at Dandenong. He shares how he was recruited to Arkansas University, how the NCAA system bridges the gap between training junior and senior athletes and what his experiences were in the college team setting. Mike then goes talks about the qualification process to get into the 2000 Sydney Olympics running the 5000m, what the experience was like and the support received from Athletics Australia. Opening up about the difficulties he had in finding a coach afterwards, Mike then talks about what ultimately made him retire from the sport professionally, how he adjusted to life afterwards and recounts his traumatic scare with cancer and then closes with his observations on the NCAA college system and running culture in the US.

We all go through trials in our lives - tests of our faith and the foundation that we base our lives on. Some trials can rock our world if we allow adversity and a change in circumstances to cast doubt on who we are, why we are here, and who is guiding and helping us to navigate our lives. In today's podcast episode of Monday Morning Moments, I share a lesson that I recently taught from the book of James in the Bible. I pray that you will find this inspiring, comforting, and encouraging whether you are going through a trial in your life or just need wisdom to help prepare you for when the trials may come. Episode Outline: A Story about Desi Linden's Boston Marathon Moment 4 Questions that are better than the question of "Why?" when you are in the midst of a trial The difference between joy and happiness Why we need to embrace trials as a part of life How training for a marathon relates to the journey of life Endurance: the result of a "Cumulative Effect and Daily Deposits" A true source of wisdom in all circumstances The battle of faith vs doubt

We are back in the swing of things and the fall racing season is heating up while the weather is cooling down. At (0:56) Chris confirms Tess as the new official cohost. At (4:37) Chris talks about his wet laundry dilemma and battling the post run in the rain funk. At (7:40) Chris shares insider secrets from his trip to Brooks HQ about what Desi Linden wore for her Boston marathon victory. At (10:30) The crew chats about the shoes Desi wore for the race, which she had barely even seen before the race and didn't get to keep. At (14:26) We introduce Kyle Northrop (for the second time on this show) who is the star of a new film. At (15:05) Kyle shares his race report for the Clarendon Day race and shifting gears from competing in 100 mile races to a 5k. Spoiler, Kyle beats Chris in home stretch. At (16:47) Kyle tells the crew about Bird scooters in his dentists office. At (18:15) Chris shares his hack for warm weather running, especially uphill. At (21:00) Kyle introduces his new film on running and depression. At (24:05) Kyle shares the details of a night two years ago when he nearly intentionally crashed his car into a highway sign and what struggle means to him. At (26:20) Tess spoils the movie and Kyle gets real about training for Western States while only running 15 miles per week. At (30:03) The crew discusses the stigma around depression and changing the narrative around mental health. At (36:35) Kyle enlightens us about what its like to have an invisible illness and how crop tops just may be the cure for any problem. At (37:35) We get a look behind the scenes into what its like to shoot and direct a documentary. At (41:50) Kyle shares what you really should be doing the weekend of the Boston marathon and how he almost lost his leg during his an ultra in Utah. At (44:19) The Pace the Nation Crew pays tribute to Wendy Katrina Martinez following her passing. At (46:51) We examine Eliud Kipchoge's new world record in the marathon set in Berlin last weekend. At (50:47) Tess highlights new sustainability measures Adidas implemented in Berlin to reduce paper and plastic waste on the racecourse. At (52:49) Chris stands in for Docs in our what grinds my gears segment, this time featuring high schoolers trying to go viral during cross country races. At (56:37) We close out this episode with the promise that we will hopefully return next week to a normal schedule.

COACH JENNY SHOW - EPISODE 42 - Running Strong with Keith Hanson Keith Hanson is the co-author of two books, the Hanson's Marathon Method and the Hanson's Half Marathon Method. Keith is co-founder of the Olympic Development Program - the Hanson's-Brooks Distance Project and the Hanson's Running Shop in Rochester Hills Michigan, where he and his brother Kevin train professional and amateur runners.   Their insights into their individual athletes and coaching philosophies have enabled athletes like Desi Linden and Brian Sell to successfully compete on the world's greatest running stage. And we certainly saw evidence of this in the Boston Marathon with Desi's incredible win!  TIMELINE HIGHLIGHTS: 1:05 - HOW KEITH BEGAN RUNNING 4:59 - TURNING RUNING INTO A BUSINESS 13:30 - BUILDING A COMMUNITY OF RUNNERS 15:47 - THE IMPORTANCE OF PATIENCE WITH YOUR TRAINING 20:49 - HOW DOES KEITH CHOOSE HIS ATHLETES? 28:54 - WHY MICHIGAN IS A GOOD BASE FOR TRAINING 33:35 - COURSE SIMULATION STRATEGIES 37:58 - DESI LINDEN'S 2018 BOSTON MARATHON STRATEGY 44:19 - KEITH HANSON'S TIPS FOR BEGINNER MARATHON RUNNERS 49:22 - ENERGY CONSERVATION STRATEGIES FOR MARATHONS    KEY TAKEAWAYS: Patience and persistence in training is essential, to realizing your potential. Running a marathon isn't about being fast, it's about being efficient. Runners MUST be smart in the first half of a marathon. Worry about only controlling controllable factors.     ADDITIONAL RESOURCES: Hanson's Running - Coaching Services Hanson's Marathon Method (Book) Hanson's Half-Marathon Method (Book) Keith Hanson Runner's World Interview Marathon Training, Minus the Long Run (NY Times)   GUEST BIOGRAPHY:  KEITH HANSON Education: Michigan State Univeristy – Graduated 1987 Bachelor of Arts Materials and Logistics Management   Running Background Completed Detroit Free Press Marathon 1978 at age of 13 in 3:20:01 and Maryland Marathon 1979 at 14 in 2:59:29. High School personal bests of 9:39 3200 meter Collegiate Michigan State University 3000 8:23 5000 14:36 10000 30:36 Captain Cross Country 1986 and 1987   Coaching 1995 – 1999 Harper Woods Notre Dame High School Cross Country Head coach 1999 – Current Coach of Hanson's Running Shop Olympic Development program   Program Accomplishments 2001 USATF Club Team Champions 5 Individual qualifiers in 2001 US Track Championships 5 in Top 21 at 2000 US Cross Country winter championships   Connect With Keith Hanson Online: Official Website - Facebook - Twitter - Instagram 

The 2018 Boston Marathon The RunRunLive 4.0 Podcast– Boston 2018  (Audio: link) audio:http://www.RunRunLive.com/PodcastEpisodes/Boston2018.mp3] Link   We are near the ‘one-mile-to-go' marker.  Eric says something about one more hill.  The crowds are thicker and more enthusiastic than they should be, but this is Boston.  The spectators take it as seriously as the runners.  A multi-colored sea of umbrellas lines the road and the encouragement is loud enough to rise above the storm.  Because it is the Boston Marathon, and this is our race.  I am slowed but not walking.  Eric has those ultra-marathon legs and is pulling me.  If he wasn't there I might, I just might, take a walk break.  But I don't.  And we grind on.  … This race has ground me down but has not beaten me.  The rain continues to come in sheets and stand-you-up blasts of cold wind.  It is a din of squishing footfalls and the wet-plastic scrunching of ponchos, trash bags and rain coats.  All cadenced by the constant buffet and roar of wind-driven rain smashing into humans.  That one more hill Eric is talking about is not really a hill.  But I know what he means.  It's Eric's 10th Boston and he has decided to run it in with me even though my pace has deteriorated in these last 2 miles as my legs lose the battle to this Boston course.  I will not stop.  It's my 20th Boston so I remember when they added this underpass to avoid a road crossing many years ago.  I remember the old days of looking ahead and wishing with all my heart to see the runners disappearing to the right onto Hereford Street.  Now we looked ahead to see the moving tide of storm shattered humans jog left and dip under and out the other side.  We don't walk or slow our grimly purposed grind through the storm.  We rise out of the underpass.  Shifting to avoid the walkers or stumblers, or just having to jostle through yet another weaving, wet, exhausted, human-trash-bag blasted into our personal space by the gusty rain.  There is not much antipathy left for these wayward castaways.  An elbow, a shoulder, a tired shove and we all keep moving. It's like being inside a washing machine filled with ponchos and rain gear with a cold firehose turned on you at the same time.  We all just want to finish.   Ironically I feel a tail wind slap me on the back as we grind up Hereford.  The only tail wind on the course.  Maybe a bit insulting. Too little, too late. Eric says his family is in the crowd somewhere up by the turn onto Bolyston and I grudgingly grind a wide tangent as he searches the crowd.  Nothing against his family but I don't think I'd stop here to see God if he were behind the barrier.  The pull of that finish line is too strong, and I'm exhausted from 3-plus hours of pummeling rain and wind and cold.  Typically, in a rainy race people will strip out of their protective clothing in the first few miles as they warm up.  Not today.  They never warmed up.  But now, as they approach the finish line and the anticipated succor of hotel rooms and hot showers they begin to shed their rain carapaces en masse.  For the last 10 miles I have been looking out the 6-inch circle of my found poncho's hood.  Now as I pull it back and look down Bolyston it is an apocalyptic scene.  Usually in high wind situations the discarded rain ponchos and trash bags will blow across the course like dangerous plastic tumbleweeds to tangle the runners' legs or lodge in the fencing.  Not today.  The cold rain is so heavy that it plasters the detritus to the pavement like so many giant spit balls.  Through this apocalyptic landscape we grind out the last ¼ mile of this storied course.  There is not much of a sprint in my stride as we push through the timing mats.  I pull up the found poncho so the timers can see my number.  I'm still clutching my bottle in one cold-cramped claw.  I never finished my drink. I'm not sure I could let go of it if I wanted to.  My hands ceased to function as hands more than an hour ago.  Grimacing we finish.  Around us runners throw their arms up in celebration.  The look on their faces is a combination of triumph, relief and disbelief.  They have survived the worst weather that Boston has ever offered up.  They got it done on a day that was at once horrible and at the same time the most epic journey in a marathon most will ever experience. And not just any marathon.  The Boston Marathon.  They lived to tell the tales, and this one will be talked about for decades. … I was wrong.  I thought I had seen everything and raced in every type of weather.  I have never seen anything like this.  The closest I have come was the last leg of the Hood to Coast Relay in 2016.  I had the same 30 mph head wind with the same driving rain.  But the difference that day in Oregon was that the rain was a few degrees warmer and I wasn't going 26.2 miles on one of the hardest marathon courses. I have experience.  I ran my Boston PR in '98 in a cold drizzle.  I rather enjoyed the Nor'easter of '07. I had a fine day in the rain of 2015.  Friday , as the race was approaching, when we knew what the weather was shaping up to be I wrote a blog post to calm people down.  In that post I said not to worry too much, it's never as bad on the course as the hype makes it out to be.  I said that the cooler temps were good for racing if you could stay out of the wind.  I mollified the nervous by noting that in the mid-pack there are thousands of people to draft with.  I cautioned against wearing too much rain gear as it would catch the wind and slow you down.  Instead, I recommended, wear a few layers to trap the heat. I was wrong.  I have never seen anything like this. … Most races would have canceled or delayed in the face of this type of weather.  Not Boston.  This type of weather at Chicago would have resulted in a humanitarian crises on the scale of an ill-timed tsunami rising out of Lake Michigan.  This weather at New York would have driven the runners and spectators into emergency shelters. Not the Boston Marathon.  This old dame of a foot race has been continuously pitting the best runners in the world against each other for  122 years.  This race is part of our cultural fabric.  It's special.  We don't stop for weather.  It's too important to us to stop for anything.  I remember emailing Dave McGillivray from a business trip in the days before the 2007 race as the Nor'easter bore down on New England.  I asked him if the reports were true, that they were considering canceling the race?  He responded matter of factly that he didn't know about anybody else but he was going to be there.  It's not bravado or false courage.  It's a mindset that we are part of something bigger than ourselves.  The organization, the athletes, the cities and towns and the spectators are all in it together.  Together, on Monday, we all screwed up our grit and ran our race despite what wrath nature decided to unpack for us. The athletes who run Boston are not the type to give up.  They have earned the right to be there.  Either by qualifying or working to raise thousands of dollars.  This is not the one-and-done bucket list crowd.  This is a cohort of seasoned endurance athletes who have trained hard and long over many years to get here.  If they skipped runs for bad weather they would never have made it to the start in Hopkinton.  … For the first time ever I decided to skip the Athlete's village in Hopkinton.  From past experience I knew it was going to be a mess.  Based on the reports I have from other runners it was like a medieval battlefield scene.  The athletic fields turned into ankle deep mud under the marching of 30,000 runners.  Athletes struggled to find shelter under the tents.  Some crawled under vehicles in the parking lot in an attempt to get out of the elements.  It was already raining and blowing hard as the day broke in Hopkinton.  The temperatures struggled to find 40 degrees.  There was no good place to be.  It was a mess.  There was no way to stay dry.  Waiting around to be called to the corrals runners started to accumulate a core temperature loss that would haunt them throughout the race.  The organization did the best they could but it was miserable and chaotic.  I avoided it.  My youngest daughter offered to drop me off in Hopkinton and I took the spectator bus downtown (instead of the athlete bus to the Village).  Seeing what the conditions would be, I took Eric's offer of safe harbor at Betty's place.  It's a long story, a Boston story, and it goes like this…  A long time ago, a family from St. Louis owned a home in Hopkinton.  They started a tradition of hosting the visiting Missouri runners in that home.  Eventually that family from St. Louis sold the home to Betty's Family.  They continued the tradition and this is where Eric, one of my running buddies, who is from St. Louis, has been sheltering before his Boston Marathons.  This year, Betty has sold the house and moved into a senior center, right next to the start.  She arranged to have the center's hall open to the Missouri runners.  I joined a dozen or so gathered there in the warmth, replete with food and drink and good nature to wait for the start.  We didn't know how lucky we were to have this safe harbor.  Around 10:30 Eric, another runner and I made our goodbyes and started walking to the corrals.  We walked out into the storm.  We were ostensibly in wave 3 corral 3 but were soon to find out that much of the rigorous Boston starting procedure had been blown out the window.  I made them stop at the big porta-potty farm on Main Street.  I took my dry race shoes, socks and hat out of their bag and wiggled into them in the cramped plastic box.  Ready to race.  I tossed the sweat pants, old shoes and ski hat to the volunteer who was stuffing soggy cast offs frantically into a rattling plastic bag. I have raced and run in all kinds of weather.  I generally know what to do and how to dress.  Monday I dressed for racing in a 35-40 degree rainy day.  I had trained in much colder weather.  I wasn't expecting this day to be too cold, especially once we started racing and warmed up.  The only real risk was at the end of the race.  If we were forced to walk or slow down we might get chilled.  I dressed based on my experience from 19 previous Boston Marathons and 60+ marathons over the last 25 years.  And I was wrong. I wore a new pair of high-cut race shorts that I bought at the expo.  I have a rule of thumb, especially after a winter training campaign, 35 and above is shorts weather.  We were close to but above that line.  I slipped on a thin pair of calf sleeves in deference to possible wind chill and rain.  Calf sleeves are good compromise between shorts and tights if the weather is on the line and add additional protection against cramping on cold days.  For the top I added a layer to what I would usually wear.  I had a thin tech tee shirt that I had made into a tank by cutting off the sleeves as my base layer.  On top of that I wore a high-quality long sleeve tech tee I got from Asics for the 2014 NYC race and on top of that my Squannacook singlet with the bib number.  People forget that the bib number is waterproof and wind proof and helps keep your core warm.  Three layers plus the oversized bib should keep the core warm.  I wore a pair of tech gloves that were designed for this in-between type weather.  You wouldn't want to wear these when the temps got below freezing but they usually work well in the in-between temps.  I topped it off with a simple Boston race hat from 2017.  That's the same scheme I've used in countless 35-40 degree rainy runs. I was wrong. Mentally I was prepared.  I've been doing this too long to worry about things I can't change.  I was happy to not have another hot year.  I had had a decent training cycle and my fitness was good.  I had avoided injury except for a minor niggle in my high left hamstring.  I was ready to race.  I slept well.  I was ready to respect Boston. I was wrong.  This was a different thing.  This was different than anything I had ever raced in.  … 65 seconds.  That's how long Eric said it took me to poop at mile 9.  I knew those porta-potties were there in the parking lot across from the reservoir.  I have used them in previous years.  I told Eric I wanted to stop.  We had come to the conclusion that today wasn't the best racing weather by that point.  We had been holding race pace fairly consistently up to that point down out of Hopkinton and into the flats of Ashland and Natick.  I didn't feel horrible, but I didn't feel great either.  I was worried about spending too much and getting caught at the end.  My effort level was good, but a little high.  My heart rate was good.  But I weirdly felt like I was burning energy faster than normal.  I could feel the energy I was expending fighting the storm.  Our ability to draft had been minimalized.  With the gusting wind and driving rain runners were having trouble staying in their lanes.  Even if you could get on someone's shoulder that just meant you were in the wettest part of the road.  The runners you were trying to draft stuck to the dry crown of the road and in order to get into their shadow you had to run in the water filled wheel paths.  Even a veteran like me, who knows the course, couldn't make good tangent decisions as runners weaved and wobbled in the storm.  My watch says I ran an extra ¼ mile.  People were running in all kinds of rain gear in an attempt to stay the effect of the tempest.  Shoes wrapped in bags tied at the ankles, runners clutching space blanket fragments, trash bags, ponchos and even shower caps that they had stolen from their hotels.  All bets were off. I wanted to slow down and drop off of race pace to conserve energy I knew a forced break was a good psychological way of doing this.  Anyone who has raced with me knows that I will keep repeating things like “we have to back it off” but for some reason struggle to put this sentiment into execution.  A potty break would be a good reset. Once we had the race monkey off our backs Eric and I settled into a reasonable pace and looked up ahead to anticipate the girls and the hills.  I wasn't feeling great but it wasn't critical.  I didn't really know if I needed to be drinking more or how nutrition should work in this weather.  I told Eric it was now a fun run and he said “Anything under four hours is good”. We ran on through Natick and Framingham.  Eric turned to me and asked, was that the ½?  I said I think it was.  They hadn't put up the arch that has been there in recent years due to the wind and we almost missed it.  Eric kept marveling at the spectators.  He kept repeating ‘these people are the real story'.  He was amazed that they were still out in force lining the course and cheering.  The spectators at Boston take it as seriously as the runners.  If I could turn my head in the final miles I would see the incongruent, multi-colored sea of umbrellas lining the. route  The spectators at Boston are not spectators, they are partners, or rather part owners, with the athletes.  Coming down the hill out of Hopkinton there were a couple of kids in bathing suits frolicking in a front yard.  One guy was wearing a mask and snorkel.  There are countless stories of spectators tying shoes and helping runners with food and nutrition when the athletes hands were too cold to work anymore.  One out of town runner, in a fit of hypothermia went to the crowd looking for a spare rain poncho and got the nice LL Bean rain coat freely off a mans back so he could finish the race.  In some ways it reminded me of 2013 when the people of Boston came together to help each other overcome adversity.  It's been five years but our spirit is still Boston Strong.  We ran on through to Wellesley staying on a good pace but trying to recover enough for the hills.  Other years you can hear the girls at Wellesley College screaming from a mile away.  This year the hard rain damped the sound until we were almost on top pf them.  They were out there.  They were hanging over their fence imploring the shivering runners with kisses and high-fives.  Eric and I ran through smiling as always.  Even though my energy was low I drifted over and slapped as many wet hands as I could.  … Coming into mile 15 some combination of our slower pace and the increasing ferocity of the storm started to get the better of me.  I could feel my core temperature dropping.  I was working but I couldn't keep up.  How did this happen?  How could someone with my experience get it wrong?  Why was this different from any other cold rain run?  It was, in a sense, the perfect storm.  The perfect combination of physics, fluid dynamics and temperature conspired to create a near perfect heat sink for the runners.  The wind, on its own, was just a strong wind.  The rain on its own was just a hard rain.  The temperature on its own was just another spring day.  But the combination pulled heat out of your body faster than you could make more. The volume of rain driven by the winds penetrated through my hat and washed the heat from my head.  The same cold rain drove through the three layers of my shirts and washed the heat from my core.  My gloves filled with cold water and my hands went numb.  When I made a fist water would pour out like squeezing a wet sponge.  The rain and wind was constant but would also come in big waves.  We'd be running along and a surge in the storm would knock us sideways or backwards like being surprised by a maniac with a water cannon.  I would stumble and lean into it and mutter “Holy shit storm!” or “Holy Cow Bells!” Really just to recognize and put words on the abuse.  The wind was directly in our faces.  The rain was directly in our faces.  The whole time.  We never got out of it.  There would be lulls but then it would return with one of those smack-you-in-the-face hose downs.  My shoulder and back muscles were sore from leaning into it.  I was having difficulty drinking from my bottle because I couldn't squeeze my hand hard enough.  I resorted to holding it between two hands and pushing together between them.  People reported not having the hand strength to take their nutrition or even pull their shorts up after a potty stop.  I was starting to go hypothermic and my mind searched for a plan.  Eric knew I was struggling.  I started scanning the road for discarded gear I could use.  The entire length of the course was strewn with gear.  I saw expensive gloves and hats and coats of all descriptions.  We passed by an expensive fuel belt at one point that someone had given up on.  Eric knew I was suffering and I told him I was going to grab a discarded poncho if I could find one.  As if on cue a crumpled orange poncho came into view on the sidewalk to our left and I stopped to retrieve it.  Eric helped me wriggle into it.  It was rather tight, and that was a good thing.  It was probably a woman's.  It clung tightly to my torso and had a small hood that captured my head and hat without much luffing in the wind.  It's at this point that Eric says I was a new man.  I may not have been a new man but the poncho trapped enough heat to reverse the hypothermia and we got back to work.  By now we were running down into Newton Lower Falls and looking up, over the highway at the Hills.  Eric said, “We're not walking the hills.” I said, “OK” and we were all business.  We slowed down but we kept moving through the first hill.  I focused not on running but on falling. Falling forward and catching myself with my feet.  Hips forward.  Lift and place the foot.  Not running just falling. The hood of the poncho was narrow.  I had an enforced tunnel vision, but it was somehow comforting, like a blinders on a race horse.  I could see Eric's blue shoes appear now and then on my right, or on my left.  I settled into my own, little, six-inch oval of reality and worked through the hills.  Other runners would cross my field of vision and I'd bump through them.  I was in the groove.  I don't know why but people's pacing was all over the place during the race.  It might have been the wind or the hypothermia addled brains but they were weaving all over the road.  I had to slam on my brakes for random stoppages the entire race.  Eventually I just ran through them as best I could.  I didn't have the energy to stop.  This kind of behavior is unusual at Boston in the seeded corrals, but the whole day was unusual. I think the relative chaos of the start may have had something to do with it. When we got to the corrals they had ceased worrying about protocol and were just waving runners through.  If you wanted to bandit Boston this year or cheat, Monday would have been the day to do it.  But you also might have died in the process, so there's that.  We got through the chutes and over the start mats without any formal starting ceremony.  The flood gates were open, so to speak.  Because of this I think the pacing was a bit strange at the start and we passed a lot of people.  I was racing and Eric was doing his best to hold me back.  We chewed through the downhill section of the course with gusto.  Given the conditions we were probably too fast, but not suicidal.  Both of us have run Boston enough times to be smart every once in a while.  We were holding a qualifying pace fairly well and trying to draft where we could.  Eric had to pull off and have someone tie his shoe but I stayed in my lane and he caught up.  We rolled through the storm this way until I realized this was not a day to race and we had to conserve our energy if we wanted to finish.  We metered our efforts and this budgeting process culminated in the voluntary pit stop at mile 9. … In Newton between the hills we'd focus on pulling back and recovering enough for the next one.  Eric had a friend volunteering at mile 19 who we stopped to say ‘hi' to.  We were slow but we were moving forward.  We reached a point of stasis.  Every now and then Eric would pull out his video camera and try to capture the moment.  I was thinking sarcastically to myself how wonderful it would be to have video of my tired, wet self hunched inside the poncho like a soggy Quasimodo. I had brought a bottle of a new electrolyte drink called F2C with me.  It was ok but because of the cold I wasn't drinking much.  I knew my hands couldn't get to the Endurolytes in my shorts pocket.  I had enough sense to worry about keeping the cramps away.  I managed to choke down a few of the Cliff Gels they had on the course just to get some calories, and hopefully some electrolytes.  Eric and I continued to drive through the hills.  I miss-counted and thought we'd missed HeartBreak in the Bedlam.  With the thinner crowds I could see the contours of the course and knew we had one more big one before the ride down into Boston.  We successfully navigated through the rain up Heartbreak and Eric made a joke about there being no inspirational chalk drawings on the road this year.  Eric was happy.  He had wrecked himself on the hills in previous races and my slow, steady progress had helped him meter himself.  With those ultra-marathon trained legs he was now ready to celebrate and took off down the hill.  I tried my best to stay with him but the hamstring pull in my left leg constrained my leg extension and it hurt a bit.  I was happy to jog it in but he still had juice.  I told him to run his race, I'd be ok, secretly wishing he'd go so I could take some walk breaks without a witness, but he refused.  He said “We started this together and we're going to finish together.”  OK Buddy, but I'm not running any faster.  I watched his tall yellow frame pull ahead a few meters though the last 10K, but he would always pull up and wait for me to grind on through. And so we ground out against the storm and into the rain and wind blasts through the final miles.  In my mind I never once thought, “This is terrible!” or “This bad weather is ruining my race!”  All I was thinking is how great it was to get to be a part of something so epic that we would be talking about for years to come.  The glory points we notched for running this one, for surviving it and for doing decently well considering – that far outweighed any whining about the weather. This type of thing brings out the best in people.  It brought out the grit in me and the other finishers.  It brought out the challenges for those 2700 or so people who were forced to seek medical treatment.  That's about 10% of those who started.  It brought out the best in Desi Linden who gutted out a 2:39 to be the first American winner 33 years.  In fact it brought out the best in the next 5 female finishers, all of whom were relative unkowns.  The top 7 women were 6 Americans and one 41 year old Canadian who came in 3rd.  No East Africans to be seen.  The day brought out the best in Yuki Kawauchi from Japan who ground past Kenyan champ Geoffrey Kirui in the final miles.  It was an epic day for epic athletes and I am glad to have been a part of it.  I am grateful that this sport continues to surprise me and teach me and humble me.  I am full of gratitude to be part of this race that pushes us so hard to be better athletes, to earn the right to join our heroes on this course.  I am humbled to have friends in this community, like Eric, who can be my wing men (and wing-ladies) when the storms come. I am thankful for that day in 1997 when a high school buddy said, “Hey, why don't we run the marathon?”  Those 524 miles of Boston over the last 20 years hold a lot of memories.  This race has changed me for the better and I'm thankful for the opportunity.

The 2018 Boston Marathon The RunRunLive 4.0 Podcast– Boston 2018  (Audio: link) audio:http://www.RunRunLive.com/PodcastEpisodes/Boston2018.mp3] Link   We are near the ‘one-mile-to-go’ marker.  Eric says something about one more hill.  The crowds are thicker and more enthusiastic than they should be, but this is Boston.  The spectators take it as seriously as the runners.  A multi-colored sea of umbrellas lines the road and the encouragement is loud enough to rise above the storm.  Because it is the Boston Marathon, and this is our race.  I am slowed but not walking.  Eric has those ultra-marathon legs and is pulling me.  If he wasn’t there I might, I just might, take a walk break.  But I don’t.  And we grind on.  … This race has ground me down but has not beaten me.  The rain continues to come in sheets and stand-you-up blasts of cold wind.  It is a din of squishing footfalls and the wet-plastic scrunching of ponchos, trash bags and rain coats.  All cadenced by the constant buffet and roar of wind-driven rain smashing into humans.  That one more hill Eric is talking about is not really a hill.  But I know what he means.  It’s Eric’s 10th Boston and he has decided to run it in with me even though my pace has deteriorated in these last 2 miles as my legs lose the battle to this Boston course.  I will not stop.  It’s my 20th Boston so I remember when they added this underpass to avoid a road crossing many years ago.  I remember the old days of looking ahead and wishing with all my heart to see the runners disappearing to the right onto Hereford Street.  Now we looked ahead to see the moving tide of storm shattered humans jog left and dip under and out the other side.  We don’t walk or slow our grimly purposed grind through the storm.  We rise out of the underpass.  Shifting to avoid the walkers or stumblers, or just having to jostle through yet another weaving, wet, exhausted, human-trash-bag blasted into our personal space by the gusty rain.  There is not much antipathy left for these wayward castaways.  An elbow, a shoulder, a tired shove and we all keep moving. It’s like being inside a washing machine filled with ponchos and rain gear with a cold firehose turned on you at the same time.  We all just want to finish.   Ironically I feel a tail wind slap me on the back as we grind up Hereford.  The only tail wind on the course.  Maybe a bit insulting. Too little, too late. Eric says his family is in the crowd somewhere up by the turn onto Bolyston and I grudgingly grind a wide tangent as he searches the crowd.  Nothing against his family but I don’t think I’d stop here to see God if he were behind the barrier.  The pull of that finish line is too strong, and I’m exhausted from 3-plus hours of pummeling rain and wind and cold.  Typically, in a rainy race people will strip out of their protective clothing in the first few miles as they warm up.  Not today.  They never warmed up.  But now, as they approach the finish line and the anticipated succor of hotel rooms and hot showers they begin to shed their rain carapaces en masse.  For the last 10 miles I have been looking out the 6-inch circle of my found poncho’s hood.  Now as I pull it back and look down Bolyston it is an apocalyptic scene.  Usually in high wind situations the discarded rain ponchos and trash bags will blow across the course like dangerous plastic tumbleweeds to tangle the runners’ legs or lodge in the fencing.  Not today.  The cold rain is so heavy that it plasters the detritus to the pavement like so many giant spit balls.  Through this apocalyptic landscape we grind out the last ¼ mile of this storied course.  There is not much of a sprint in my stride as we push through the timing mats.  I pull up the found poncho so the timers can see my number.  I’m still clutching my bottle in one cold-cramped claw.  I never finished my drink. I’m not sure I could let go of it if I wanted to.  My hands ceased to function as hands more than an hour ago.  Grimacing we finish.  Around us runners throw their arms up in celebration.  The look on their faces is a combination of triumph, relief and disbelief.  They have survived the worst weather that Boston has ever offered up.  They got it done on a day that was at once horrible and at the same time the most epic journey in a marathon most will ever experience. And not just any marathon.  The Boston Marathon.  They lived to tell the tales, and this one will be talked about for decades. … I was wrong.  I thought I had seen everything and raced in every type of weather.  I have never seen anything like this.  The closest I have come was the last leg of the Hood to Coast Relay in 2016.  I had the same 30 mph head wind with the same driving rain.  But the difference that day in Oregon was that the rain was a few degrees warmer and I wasn’t going 26.2 miles on one of the hardest marathon courses. I have experience.  I ran my Boston PR in ’98 in a cold drizzle.  I rather enjoyed the Nor’easter of ’07. I had a fine day in the rain of 2015.  Friday , as the race was approaching, when we knew what the weather was shaping up to be I wrote a blog post to calm people down.  In that post I said not to worry too much, it’s never as bad on the course as the hype makes it out to be.  I said that the cooler temps were good for racing if you could stay out of the wind.  I mollified the nervous by noting that in the mid-pack there are thousands of people to draft with.  I cautioned against wearing too much rain gear as it would catch the wind and slow you down.  Instead, I recommended, wear a few layers to trap the heat. I was wrong.  I have never seen anything like this. … Most races would have canceled or delayed in the face of this type of weather.  Not Boston.  This type of weather at Chicago would have resulted in a humanitarian crises on the scale of an ill-timed tsunami rising out of Lake Michigan.  This weather at New York would have driven the runners and spectators into emergency shelters. Not the Boston Marathon.  This old dame of a foot race has been continuously pitting the best runners in the world against each other for  122 years.  This race is part of our cultural fabric.  It’s special.  We don’t stop for weather.  It’s too important to us to stop for anything.  I remember emailing Dave McGillivray from a business trip in the days before the 2007 race as the Nor’easter bore down on New England.  I asked him if the reports were true, that they were considering canceling the race?  He responded matter of factly that he didn’t know about anybody else but he was going to be there.  It’s not bravado or false courage.  It’s a mindset that we are part of something bigger than ourselves.  The organization, the athletes, the cities and towns and the spectators are all in it together.  Together, on Monday, we all screwed up our grit and ran our race despite what wrath nature decided to unpack for us. The athletes who run Boston are not the type to give up.  They have earned the right to be there.  Either by qualifying or working to raise thousands of dollars.  This is not the one-and-done bucket list crowd.  This is a cohort of seasoned endurance athletes who have trained hard and long over many years to get here.  If they skipped runs for bad weather they would never have made it to the start in Hopkinton.  … For the first time ever I decided to skip the Athlete’s village in Hopkinton.  From past experience I knew it was going to be a mess.  Based on the reports I have from other runners it was like a medieval battlefield scene.  The athletic fields turned into ankle deep mud under the marching of 30,000 runners.  Athletes struggled to find shelter under the tents.  Some crawled under vehicles in the parking lot in an attempt to get out of the elements.  It was already raining and blowing hard as the day broke in Hopkinton.  The temperatures struggled to find 40 degrees.  There was no good place to be.  It was a mess.  There was no way to stay dry.  Waiting around to be called to the corrals runners started to accumulate a core temperature loss that would haunt them throughout the race.  The organization did the best they could but it was miserable and chaotic.  I avoided it.  My youngest daughter offered to drop me off in Hopkinton and I took the spectator bus downtown (instead of the athlete bus to the Village).  Seeing what the conditions would be, I took Eric’s offer of safe harbor at Betty’s place.  It’s a long story, a Boston story, and it goes like this…  A long time ago, a family from St. Louis owned a home in Hopkinton.  They started a tradition of hosting the visiting Missouri runners in that home.  Eventually that family from St. Louis sold the home to Betty’s Family.  They continued the tradition and this is where Eric, one of my running buddies, who is from St. Louis, has been sheltering before his Boston Marathons.  This year, Betty has sold the house and moved into a senior center, right next to the start.  She arranged to have the center’s hall open to the Missouri runners.  I joined a dozen or so gathered there in the warmth, replete with food and drink and good nature to wait for the start.  We didn’t know how lucky we were to have this safe harbor.  Around 10:30 Eric, another runner and I made our goodbyes and started walking to the corrals.  We walked out into the storm.  We were ostensibly in wave 3 corral 3 but were soon to find out that much of the rigorous Boston starting procedure had been blown out the window.  I made them stop at the big porta-potty farm on Main Street.  I took my dry race shoes, socks and hat out of their bag and wiggled into them in the cramped plastic box.  Ready to race.  I tossed the sweat pants, old shoes and ski hat to the volunteer who was stuffing soggy cast offs frantically into a rattling plastic bag. I have raced and run in all kinds of weather.  I generally know what to do and how to dress.  Monday I dressed for racing in a 35-40 degree rainy day.  I had trained in much colder weather.  I wasn’t expecting this day to be too cold, especially once we started racing and warmed up.  The only real risk was at the end of the race.  If we were forced to walk or slow down we might get chilled.  I dressed based on my experience from 19 previous Boston Marathons and 60+ marathons over the last 25 years.  And I was wrong. I wore a new pair of high-cut race shorts that I bought at the expo.  I have a rule of thumb, especially after a winter training campaign, 35 and above is shorts weather.  We were close to but above that line.  I slipped on a thin pair of calf sleeves in deference to possible wind chill and rain.  Calf sleeves are good compromise between shorts and tights if the weather is on the line and add additional protection against cramping on cold days.  For the top I added a layer to what I would usually wear.  I had a thin tech tee shirt that I had made into a tank by cutting off the sleeves as my base layer.  On top of that I wore a high-quality long sleeve tech tee I got from Asics for the 2014 NYC race and on top of that my Squannacook singlet with the bib number.  People forget that the bib number is waterproof and wind proof and helps keep your core warm.  Three layers plus the oversized bib should keep the core warm.  I wore a pair of tech gloves that were designed for this in-between type weather.  You wouldn’t want to wear these when the temps got below freezing but they usually work well in the in-between temps.  I topped it off with a simple Boston race hat from 2017.  That’s the same scheme I’ve used in countless 35-40 degree rainy runs. I was wrong. Mentally I was prepared.  I’ve been doing this too long to worry about things I can’t change.  I was happy to not have another hot year.  I had had a decent training cycle and my fitness was good.  I had avoided injury except for a minor niggle in my high left hamstring.  I was ready to race.  I slept well.  I was ready to respect Boston. I was wrong.  This was a different thing.  This was different than anything I had ever raced in.  … 65 seconds.  That’s how long Eric said it took me to poop at mile 9.  I knew those porta-potties were there in the parking lot across from the reservoir.  I have used them in previous years.  I told Eric I wanted to stop.  We had come to the conclusion that today wasn’t the best racing weather by that point.  We had been holding race pace fairly consistently up to that point down out of Hopkinton and into the flats of Ashland and Natick.  I didn’t feel horrible, but I didn’t feel great either.  I was worried about spending too much and getting caught at the end.  My effort level was good, but a little high.  My heart rate was good.  But I weirdly felt like I was burning energy faster than normal.  I could feel the energy I was expending fighting the storm.  Our ability to draft had been minimalized.  With the gusting wind and driving rain runners were having trouble staying in their lanes.  Even if you could get on someone’s shoulder that just meant you were in the wettest part of the road.  The runners you were trying to draft stuck to the dry crown of the road and in order to get into their shadow you had to run in the water filled wheel paths.  Even a veteran like me, who knows the course, couldn’t make good tangent decisions as runners weaved and wobbled in the storm.  My watch says I ran an extra ¼ mile.  People were running in all kinds of rain gear in an attempt to stay the effect of the tempest.  Shoes wrapped in bags tied at the ankles, runners clutching space blanket fragments, trash bags, ponchos and even shower caps that they had stolen from their hotels.  All bets were off. I wanted to slow down and drop off of race pace to conserve energy I knew a forced break was a good psychological way of doing this.  Anyone who has raced with me knows that I will keep repeating things like “we have to back it off” but for some reason struggle to put this sentiment into execution.  A potty break would be a good reset. Once we had the race monkey off our backs Eric and I settled into a reasonable pace and looked up ahead to anticipate the girls and the hills.  I wasn’t feeling great but it wasn’t critical.  I didn’t really know if I needed to be drinking more or how nutrition should work in this weather.  I told Eric it was now a fun run and he said “Anything under four hours is good”. We ran on through Natick and Framingham.  Eric turned to me and asked, was that the ½?  I said I think it was.  They hadn’t put up the arch that has been there in recent years due to the wind and we almost missed it.  Eric kept marveling at the spectators.  He kept repeating ‘these people are the real story’.  He was amazed that they were still out in force lining the course and cheering.  The spectators at Boston take it as seriously as the runners.  If I could turn my head in the final miles I would see the incongruent, multi-colored sea of umbrellas lining the. route  The spectators at Boston are not spectators, they are partners, or rather part owners, with the athletes.  Coming down the hill out of Hopkinton there were a couple of kids in bathing suits frolicking in a front yard.  One guy was wearing a mask and snorkel.  There are countless stories of spectators tying shoes and helping runners with food and nutrition when the athletes hands were too cold to work anymore.  One out of town runner, in a fit of hypothermia went to the crowd looking for a spare rain poncho and got the nice LL Bean rain coat freely off a mans back so he could finish the race.  In some ways it reminded me of 2013 when the people of Boston came together to help each other overcome adversity.  It’s been five years but our spirit is still Boston Strong.  We ran on through to Wellesley staying on a good pace but trying to recover enough for the hills.  Other years you can hear the girls at Wellesley College screaming from a mile away.  This year the hard rain damped the sound until we were almost on top pf them.  They were out there.  They were hanging over their fence imploring the shivering runners with kisses and high-fives.  Eric and I ran through smiling as always.  Even though my energy was low I drifted over and slapped as many wet hands as I could.  … Coming into mile 15 some combination of our slower pace and the increasing ferocity of the storm started to get the better of me.  I could feel my core temperature dropping.  I was working but I couldn’t keep up.  How did this happen?  How could someone with my experience get it wrong?  Why was this different from any other cold rain run?  It was, in a sense, the perfect storm.  The perfect combination of physics, fluid dynamics and temperature conspired to create a near perfect heat sink for the runners.  The wind, on its own, was just a strong wind.  The rain on its own was just a hard rain.  The temperature on its own was just another spring day.  But the combination pulled heat out of your body faster than you could make more. The volume of rain driven by the winds penetrated through my hat and washed the heat from my head.  The same cold rain drove through the three layers of my shirts and washed the heat from my core.  My gloves filled with cold water and my hands went numb.  When I made a fist water would pour out like squeezing a wet sponge.  The rain and wind was constant but would also come in big waves.  We’d be running along and a surge in the storm would knock us sideways or backwards like being surprised by a maniac with a water cannon.  I would stumble and lean into it and mutter “Holy shit storm!” or “Holy Cow Bells!” Really just to recognize and put words on the abuse.  The wind was directly in our faces.  The rain was directly in our faces.  The whole time.  We never got out of it.  There would be lulls but then it would return with one of those smack-you-in-the-face hose downs.  My shoulder and back muscles were sore from leaning into it.  I was having difficulty drinking from my bottle because I couldn’t squeeze my hand hard enough.  I resorted to holding it between two hands and pushing together between them.  People reported not having the hand strength to take their nutrition or even pull their shorts up after a potty stop.  I was starting to go hypothermic and my mind searched for a plan.  Eric knew I was struggling.  I started scanning the road for discarded gear I could use.  The entire length of the course was strewn with gear.  I saw expensive gloves and hats and coats of all descriptions.  We passed by an expensive fuel belt at one point that someone had given up on.  Eric knew I was suffering and I told him I was going to grab a discarded poncho if I could find one.  As if on cue a crumpled orange poncho came into view on the sidewalk to our left and I stopped to retrieve it.  Eric helped me wriggle into it.  It was rather tight, and that was a good thing.  It was probably a woman’s.  It clung tightly to my torso and had a small hood that captured my head and hat without much luffing in the wind.  It's at this point that Eric says I was a new man.  I may not have been a new man but the poncho trapped enough heat to reverse the hypothermia and we got back to work.  By now we were running down into Newton Lower Falls and looking up, over the highway at the Hills.  Eric said, “We’re not walking the hills.” I said, “OK” and we were all business.  We slowed down but we kept moving through the first hill.  I focused not on running but on falling. Falling forward and catching myself with my feet.  Hips forward.  Lift and place the foot.  Not running just falling. The hood of the poncho was narrow.  I had an enforced tunnel vision, but it was somehow comforting, like a blinders on a race horse.  I could see Eric’s blue shoes appear now and then on my right, or on my left.  I settled into my own, little, six-inch oval of reality and worked through the hills.  Other runners would cross my field of vision and I’d bump through them.  I was in the groove.  I don’t know why but people’s pacing was all over the place during the race.  It might have been the wind or the hypothermia addled brains but they were weaving all over the road.  I had to slam on my brakes for random stoppages the entire race.  Eventually I just ran through them as best I could.  I didn’t have the energy to stop.  This kind of behavior is unusual at Boston in the seeded corrals, but the whole day was unusual. I think the relative chaos of the start may have had something to do with it. When we got to the corrals they had ceased worrying about protocol and were just waving runners through.  If you wanted to bandit Boston this year or cheat, Monday would have been the day to do it.  But you also might have died in the process, so there’s that.  We got through the chutes and over the start mats without any formal starting ceremony.  The flood gates were open, so to speak.  Because of this I think the pacing was a bit strange at the start and we passed a lot of people.  I was racing and Eric was doing his best to hold me back.  We chewed through the downhill section of the course with gusto.  Given the conditions we were probably too fast, but not suicidal.  Both of us have run Boston enough times to be smart every once in a while.  We were holding a qualifying pace fairly well and trying to draft where we could.  Eric had to pull off and have someone tie his shoe but I stayed in my lane and he caught up.  We rolled through the storm this way until I realized this was not a day to race and we had to conserve our energy if we wanted to finish.  We metered our efforts and this budgeting process culminated in the voluntary pit stop at mile 9. … In Newton between the hills we’d focus on pulling back and recovering enough for the next one.  Eric had a friend volunteering at mile 19 who we stopped to say ‘hi’ to.  We were slow but we were moving forward.  We reached a point of stasis.  Every now and then Eric would pull out his video camera and try to capture the moment.  I was thinking sarcastically to myself how wonderful it would be to have video of my tired, wet self hunched inside the poncho like a soggy Quasimodo. I had brought a bottle of a new electrolyte drink called F2C with me.  It was ok but because of the cold I wasn’t drinking much.  I knew my hands couldn’t get to the Endurolytes in my shorts pocket.  I had enough sense to worry about keeping the cramps away.  I managed to choke down a few of the Cliff Gels they had on the course just to get some calories, and hopefully some electrolytes.  Eric and I continued to drive through the hills.  I miss-counted and thought we’d missed HeartBreak in the Bedlam.  With the thinner crowds I could see the contours of the course and knew we had one more big one before the ride down into Boston.  We successfully navigated through the rain up Heartbreak and Eric made a joke about there being no inspirational chalk drawings on the road this year.  Eric was happy.  He had wrecked himself on the hills in previous races and my slow, steady progress had helped him meter himself.  With those ultra-marathon trained legs he was now ready to celebrate and took off down the hill.  I tried my best to stay with him but the hamstring pull in my left leg constrained my leg extension and it hurt a bit.  I was happy to jog it in but he still had juice.  I told him to run his race, I’d be ok, secretly wishing he’d go so I could take some walk breaks without a witness, but he refused.  He said “We started this together and we’re going to finish together.”  OK Buddy, but I’m not running any faster.  I watched his tall yellow frame pull ahead a few meters though the last 10K, but he would always pull up and wait for me to grind on through. And so we ground out against the storm and into the rain and wind blasts through the final miles.  In my mind I never once thought, “This is terrible!” or “This bad weather is ruining my race!”  All I was thinking is how great it was to get to be a part of something so epic that we would be talking about for years to come.  The glory points we notched for running this one, for surviving it and for doing decently well considering – that far outweighed any whining about the weather. This type of thing brings out the best in people.  It brought out the grit in me and the other finishers.  It brought out the challenges for those 2700 or so people who were forced to seek medical treatment.  That’s about 10% of those who started.  It brought out the best in Desi Linden who gutted out a 2:39 to be the first American winner 33 years.  In fact it brought out the best in the next 5 female finishers, all of whom were relative unkowns.  The top 7 women were 6 Americans and one 41 year old Canadian who came in 3rd.  No East Africans to be seen.  The day brought out the best in Yuki Kawauchi from Japan who ground past Kenyan champ Geoffrey Kirui in the final miles.  It was an epic day for epic athletes and I am glad to have been a part of it.  I am grateful that this sport continues to surprise me and teach me and humble me.  I am full of gratitude to be part of this race that pushes us so hard to be better athletes, to earn the right to join our heroes on this course.  I am humbled to have friends in this community, like Eric, who can be my wing men (and wing-ladies) when the storms come. I am thankful for that day in 1997 when a high school buddy said, “Hey, why don’t we run the marathon?”  Those 524 miles of Boston over the last 20 years hold a lot of memories.  This race has changed me for the better and I’m thankful for the opportunity.

Boston was a mess this past week as everything that could have happened did. The working class runners won the day while the heavy hitters decided to DNF... but that raises the question could Desi Linden win on what equates to a cold, rainy night in Stoke. This is a big podcast as I also cover the upcoming London Marathon which... if Boston was a weeknight at Stoke city... is a weekend game in Madrid by comparison. How are you liking these Soccer puns? Will Keitany and Kipchoge continue their run of dominance? or will Mo Farah finally bring his brilliance to the marathon? Make Sure you subscribe and rate the podcast if you haven't already. Be sure to follow me on IG & Twitter - @hornekerjustin Will Mo Farah stack up? let me know #runwithjustin

“I think that’s what unites us as runners — we’re all trying to overcome excuses and doubts to get out there.” —Sarah Sellers “Who is Sarah Sellers?” That’s the question everyone was asking after the Tucson, AZ runner finished second at the 2018 Boston Marathon. Sarah isn’t a professional runner. She doesn’t have a sponsor. And she paid her own Boston Marathon entry fee. But on a brutally rainy and windy day in Boston, the 26-year-old nurse anesthetist ran a 2:44.04 — good enough to land her in the spot behind winner Desi Linden. Sarah had no idea she finished second (and, in doing so, nabbed a cool $75,000 prize), and when we recorded this episode just 48 hours after the race, she was still processing the results. Enjoy as she breaks down every detail from before, during, and after the race — including the surreal moment when she passed Shalane Flanagan! (And fun fact: Boston was only Sarah’s second marathon ever!)   What you’ll get on this episode: Sarah shares how she’s feeling 48 hours after placing second at the Boston Marathon (1:30) What Sarah’s Boston buildup was like, and how she balances high-mileage training with a demanding full-time job (4:20) The very cute story of how Sarah met her husband, Blake (8:00) How working long days helped prepare Sarah for Marathon Monday (8:45) Whether Sarah ever considered dropping out on race day (9:45) Sarah’s unexpected pre-race detour (10:00) Sarah shares her pre-race goals and the weather factors she dreads the most (11:35) What it was like starting with the elite field (13:00) Sarah breaks down the race from the soaking start to that triumphant finish (16:10) What it was like passing Shalane Flanagan (19:00) How Sarah found out she finished in second place (20:45) How Sarah plans to spend her $75,000 winnings (26:00) The moment that stands out as the ultimate high point from Sarah’s Boston Marathon experience (27:00) What’s next? (30:30) What we mention on this episode: Boston Marathon Deena Kastor Acadia National Park Boston Athletic Association Desi Linden Shalane Flanagan Kara Goucher Gwen Jorgensen Jordan Hasay Meb Keflezighi Follow Ali: Instagram @aliontherun1 Facebook Twitter @aliontherun1 Blog Strava Listen & Subscribe: Apple Podcasts Spotify SoundCloud Overcast Stitcher Google Play SUPPORT the Ali on the Run Show! If you’re enjoying the show, please subscribe and leave a rating and review on Apple Podcasts. Spread the run love. And if you liked this episode, share it with your friends!

Comey: 'Possible' that Russians have leverage over Trump,South Carolina inmate: Bodies stacked up during riot; 7 slain, Desi Linden wins Boston Marathon, 1st US woman since '85. --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/anchor-news-rundown/support

Desi Linden joins the show less than 48 hours before running in the 122nd Boston Marathon. The chances of an American woman winning the race has never looked this good in recent years. Linden will be running in her sixth Boston. She has finished fourth in each of her previous two finishes yet she enters with an underdog mentality. She says there is no pressure on her with the incredible depth of the women's field. We headed to a Brooks Running press conference and chatted with Desi briefly about that and more in a mini episode of the podcast. Our Boston Marathon coverage all weekend is powered by The Mercury Mile. It’s the crossing the best of fashion and function for all runners. All it takes is four easy steps. You create a runner style profile so a team of stylists learns how to fit your style and needs. Reserve a box and you’ll get four to six pieces of activewear. Receive your box. Run your Mercury Mile. Whatever your pace, from beginner to elite, Mercury Mile curates a shopping experience and style that moves just for you. Check them out at MercuryMile.com today and use promo code Citius10 for $10 off the stylist fee.

Chris Chavez, David Melly and Dana Giordano get together for the first episode of The Bell Lap. Our version of eight topics in a rundown-style chat to preview the 2018 Boston Marathon. Our Boston Marathon coverage all weekend is powered by The Mercury Mile. It’s the crossing the best of fashion and function for all runners. All it takes is four easy steps. You create a runner style profile so a team of stylists learn how to fit your style and needs. Reserve a box and you;ll get four to six pieces of activewear. Receive your box. Run your Mercury Mile. Whatever your pace, from beginner to elite, Mercury Mile curates a shopping experience and style that moves just for you. Check them out today and use promo code CITIUS10 for $10 off the stylist fee. Our topics: - Why is Molly Huddle the presumed favorite? - Do we think this is the end for Shalane? What are her odds of winning? - With the most recent PR among the Americans, why isn't Jordan Hasay being considered more? - What are Desi Linden's odds of winning? - Is it good or bad if Galen Rupp wins? - What other U.S. storylines interest you? + More

Amy Hastings-Cragg joins the CITIUS MAG Podcast just before heading off across the pond to compete at the 2017 IAAF World Championships marathon in London. Hastings-Cragg won last year's U.S. Olympic Marathon Trials and then finished ninth in the Olympic marathon in Rio de Janeiro. Soon after her race in Brazil, she chatted with coach Jerry Schumacher to discuss the possibility of chasing another medal at this year's world championships. In this week's episode, she discusses her transition into training under Schumacher with the Bowerman Track Club, taking a break after Rio but then kicking off 2017 with a half marathon PR, sharing a room with Desi Linden in college, what she would say if she had one question to ask Rita Jeptoo and much more. You can catch the latest episode of the podcast on iTunes so subscribe and leave a five-star review. For information on how to win a Citius Mag t-shirt. Visit CitiusMag.com

Editor-in-Chief David Willey talks with Executive Editor Tish Hamilton about his recent trip to China, and how the country's running culture mirrors our own. In the Kick, we talk about the black market for running bibs, a new FDA warning that runners should heed, and what makes Desi Linden such a fun marathoner to watch. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Editor-in-Chief David Willey talks with Executive Editor Tish Hamilton about his recent trip to China, and how the country's running culture mirrors our own. In the Kick, we talk about the black market for running bibs, a new FDA warning that runners should heed, and what makes Desi Linden such a fun marathoner to watch.