Dear friends and family,


At about mile 19, as I was working my way up the 2nd of the three Newton hills, I felt my resolve fading. I let a thought about stopping enter my mind - something I promised myself I wouldn't do. And as I was tuning out my surroundings, and trying to bend my inner monologue in a positive direction, a couple of fans, face-painted and screaming, hopped onto the course along the side of the road, where I was making measured steps. "Josh, you got this", "Josh, keep pushing", "Josh, take those hills", "Josh... "... And the voice didn't go away - the fan was following me, compelling me forward, running along side. It may have only been a few seconds, but it seemed like a long pep talk... Long enough to help me look forward again - to once again take in the moment, among the other runners, within the crowds, inside a tradition of challenge.


The morning had started with a slow, dreamlike bus ride from the Public Gardens to Hopkinton. Then a long wait, chattering with other nervous and anxious Dana Farber runners awaiting the start - with an extremely exhuberant and inspiring Uta Pippig running around giving hugs and high fives and words of encouragement to all of us. And then I was in the corral, then walking forward, then jogging and then past the starting line...


The plan was to run at roughly a 9 minute pace for the first 20 miles, and then see what was left for the last 10K. As we pushed through Hopkinton, Ashland, Framingham, Natick and Wellesley, it all followed schedule. The first 1/2 marathon was almost exactly 2 hours, and I felt strong. And the crowds were amazing - almost deafening at times - pushing everyone forward.


But as I moved from Wellesley toward Newton, I began to lose my stride a little. It wasn't that I felt physically tired, I just began to have trouble focusing on the race and as a result, couldn't maintain a comfortable cadence that felt natural. And as I entered Newton, I began to feel a bit disoriented. So I began to start thinking about what to do. I also started to feel scared.


And then I felt like I might faint - I started to feel a little numb in my face, and I knew I had to do something, quickly. So when the next water station came by, I took two full cups of water, and drank them both while walking for about a minute. Almost immediately, I felt a lot better. I moved back to running, in a quick tempo, very short stride manner. Thinking back, I realized that I really hadn't been good about hydration - only taking tiny sips from cups up until this point - including a dramatic comical misfire, that landed most of a cup of gatorade all over my face and shoulder.


After another mile, I began to feel a little dizzy again, and a little queasy. I took another cup of water, and tried to figure out how to proceed. I needed to take care of my hydration problems and lightheadedness, and I was now heading for the Newton Hills, to be followed by 5 more miles to Boston. I felt a bit scared again. Back to one step at a time. I decided I would walk for 30 seconds at every water stop from now on to make sure I really drank the water, and to give myself a moment to hydrate. The first of the three hills was fine. The second hill proved much more challenging - but the fans pushed me forward.


As I was running past the 2nd hill, I heard a couple of runners say "heartbreak hill is done! we did it! on to Boston!". I knew that heartbreak will was just around the bend - still just out of view, but I wanted to believe them. The final hill wasn't as bad as I thought it would be - the fan support was unbelievable. I just looked down and kept my feet moving forward, and pretty soon I was at the top. It's all mental now - five miles of downhill to Boston.


As I came into Brookline, the demons came back. I began to feel lightheaded again, and I began to have doubts. So I took my mind to a different place. The day before, I shared a pasta dinner with dozens of children undergoing treatment at Dana Farber. Their challenge and fight was so difficult, their stories profoundly moving, and their strength, absolutely immeasurable. I thought about specific stories of loss and strength - I thought about my uncle - I thought about things that were much bigger than the moment. And when I looked up, I saw crowds - shouting my name, shouting the beautiful sounding "go daynah fahbah!!! It was more than enough. I was going to finish this.


And a few miles down, after a few brief hydration stops, I ran over a sign painted on the road "one mile left". The bright, reflecting John Hancock tower stood magestically ahead of me. And I knew I could set aside my mental games, my dizziness... My legs still felt strong, as if they were waiting through all the challenges of the past 6 miles to finally be called to duty again. So I picked up the pace, and headed down Commonwealth avenue. Around the bend... and there was Boylston St. in front of me. It was as though time stopped for a moment - I got the shivers, and felt a rush of emotion. I don't even remember making the final turn, I just remember suddenly facing the finish line, looking down Boylston St. into a sea of people and hearing the thunderous roar of support. I began to try to pick up speed, but it simply felt like I was floating. And the banner began to get closer... and closer... and suddenly, magically, I was through...


The next few hours were spent with friends and family in Copley Square. As the conversations turned lively and humorous my mind was still caught in the course somewhere. I came in and out of awareness of the moment. It still seemed a bit dreamlike.


Thank you all for your words of encouragement along the way, through the months of training and from the sidelines yesterday. For me this race was about people. It was about the kindness and generosity of others. It was about the strength of those who fight much harder battles and take on much more scary and difficult challenges. Most importantly, it was about the strong realization that we do not take on these challenges alone. I would not have made it through the race were it not for the support from friends and family through all the training. I would not have made it through the hills of Newton, through Brookline and into Boston if the best and most enthusiastic fans hadn't embraced my struggle with me along every step of the way. And I would not have felt the rush of emotion and pride at the end if these feelings had not been rooted and shared in a spirit of determination I have learned from those around me. When I stepped past the final line, all I wanted to do was find and be with those who had helped me get there.


The next few days will be spent gardening, recovering, reading and sleeping. In the weeks ahead, I will tune-up my bike and test out my new wetsuit. The Patriot half Ironman Triathlon at the end of June is the next big challenge. But for now, I'd rather reflect back on the powerful and profound experiences of the past few months, and imagine the smiling faces surrounding me once again, always pushing me forward when I need them most.


all my best wishes,


Josh


PS. During the marathon yesterday, I reached my fundraising goal with Dana Farber. Thank you all so much for your generosity. The work Dana Farber does is truly exemplary, and I plan to continue my fundraising efforts on their behalf in the future. My marathon fundraising page will remain active through August, 2010: http://www.rundfmc.org/2010/joshb Thank you again for your support.