What a weekend! And I am still processing it. It’s true what they say, that the Boston Marathon is a special race. It seems like forever since I qualified, back in November 2023. I had a 21-minute buffer under my needed qualifying time so I was certain that I would make any cut-offs to get into the race. Training for this race began in December 2024. So with 17 months of anticipation, 18 weeks of training which included five 20-milers (one on the treadmill), and 548.69 total miles run during this training cycle, I finally found myself in Boston.
I am lucky enough to have dear friends who live in Boston and I was spoiled! I didn’t have to Uber most places and instead was driven by my friend in and out of the city multiple times. I arrived on Friday and the first stop was the race expo to pick up my bib and race packet. The city was buzzing with runners and I loved seeing all the different color jackets from different years. I could not wait to wear mine (I was being superstitious and would not wear it until I finished the race). I typically do not enjoy the expos, especially at big races. They are so crowded and I find them overwhelming and overstimulating, so I try to get in and out as fast as possible. But in this case there was one item I wanted to buy, a Spike the Unicorn stuffed animal, the mascot of the race. If you knew Ariella you knew how much she loved unicorns so this was a must have. I waited in line for 40 minutes just for that (and a few impulse buys at the register). I pretty much ignored the rest of the expo, not taking advantage of any of the photo ops or anything else as I just wanted to get away from the crowd. Spent the rest of the day and night with my friend catching up and just having a nice, peaceful time.

For some silly reason, I had decided I also needed to run the Boston 5K that Saturday. It’s a big race, 10,000 people, and sells out fast. Out of total FOMO I made sure to register right away and so I was committed. I arrived at the start line and the excitement was palpable. I tried to go easy, treat it as a shakeout run but it was exhilarating! And it increased my anticipation for the big day just two days away. After some down time I was back out to attend a live podcast taping from one of my favorite running podcasters (who I met for the second time at the 5K) and then dinner in Boston’s North End.






Sunday I checked into my hotel, explored pop-up shops on Newbury St, and then just relaxed. Laid out my race gear, kept eating all the carbs, and took it easy. Triple-checked that my alarm was set but with my bus not boarding until 8:15 AM I knew I would be awake with plenty of time to spare. This was something I was a bit anxious about, the late start of the race. My wave was scheduled to start at 10:50 so it took some careful meal and snack planning. I had everything organized and set and hit the sack.
Monday morning. It’s race day! With the later start I was able to “sleep in” a little and didn’t feel rushed at all. Got dressed, did all the things, and made my way to the buses. This is where shit went downhill. The bus situation was a disaster. I heard later that an earlier wave bus or two got lost, and one was in an accident so they were late coming back. The crowd of people trying to get through the security checkpoints was insane and I just kept looking at my watch in panic that we wouldn’t get there in time. I felt such a sense of relief when I was finally on a bus and even more relief when it started moving. We arrived at the athletes’ village, I step off the bus, and feel a slight soreness in my calf. What the fuck? It was out of nowhere. I haven’t had any cramping or soreness in recent days and now I was concerned I would be faced with cramping during the race. But I didn’t have time to worry about that because by the time I had walked down to Athletes’ Village, they were already calling my wave to the corrals. I quickly used the bathroom, ditched my throwaway clothes, sunscreened my face (of course getting some in my eye), and made my way to the start line, a .7 mile walk. I wanted to hit the bathrooms again on the way but I looked at the crowd and looked at my watch, looked back at the crowd and figured I would rather make sure I start on time and use a bathroom on the course if needed, rather than start late. So I continued to make my way to my corral along with thousands of other people. Where I proceeded to get slammed into head-on by a runner running against the crowd. Luckily she didn’t knock me down and I wasn’t hurt. But between that, my sore calf, my burning eye, and the lateness/rushing (I got to my corral with just 6 minutes to spare), I felt like this day was not off to a great start and not at all how I wanted my Boston experience to go. I typically cry at the start lines of marathons. All the hard work it took to get there, and the luck of staying healthy and uninjured, I’m always so grateful to make it. But today I didn’t have time for any of that. I didn’t have time to breathe, soak it all in, reflect on what it took to first qualify and then to make it to the start line. I was pretty much literally off and running.
All of the frustrations disappeared as soon as we were off. I started running and forgot about everything but the fact that I was now a Boston Marathon runner. I had three goals for this race: 1. Make it to the start line, hopefully uninjured and healthy. 2. Finish. 3. Have fun while doing it! I had no time goals. Goals for my recent previous marathons were to qualify for Boston so once that was achieved, the pressure was off and I could just enjoy the 26.2 mile party. And a party it was! Boston has crowds like no other marathon I’ve run (including New York and Chicago) and they truly carried me through at times. I made sure to have as much fun as possible. I gave as many high-fives as I could, especially to the small children, tapped all the power-up signs, danced to the music, cheered back to the crowed, yelled multiple times to the supporters “best day ever!” Nothing makes you feel more like a celebrity than wearing your name on your shirt when running the Boston marathon. I had hundreds of friends cheering me on. Especially during the hills. There was no way I was stopping when someone told me directly to keep going! At one point a runner right in front of me turned around and said her name was also Erica so was loving running near me. I had Ariella on my back as well and several runners blessed her, blessed me, said they were going to run for her, and hearing her name made the race even more special.


The run went well for the most part. Boston has a downhill start and I was careful not to go out too fast. I kept a pretty consistent pace (which would have been a PR) until mile 17ish. That’s among the 4 Newton hills and I expected my pace to slow. I was thrilled to crest Heartbreak Hill knowing that while there were still hills after that, the rest of the course was generally downhill. But despite the many, many, many hills I ran in training, I was not able to really recover after the hills and regain my pace, or my quads which were burning from the downhills. By mile 21 my legs were dead and my quads were screaming. It didn’t matter. I knew I was going to finish this race. I pushed through. Just keep running. Less than 50 minutes, less than 30, less than 20 and I will be finished. The famed Citgo sign with just one mile to go. The deafening roars of the crowd. I can do anything for a mile. And then…all of the training and attempts to qualify, all of the months of anticipation, the hundreds of miles of running led me here, to these two iconic turns; right on Hereford, left on Boylston. Chills. The last stretch. The crowds several rows deep. The noise. The finish line. So close. And So. Far. Away. This .35 mile stretch felt long even after the 5K. After running 26 miles the finish line didn’t seem to get any closer. In fact it seemed to be moving further away. Somehow my legs kept going. I wanted to run hard and fast to the finish but it just wasn’t possible. After what felt like much longer than .35 miles I reached the finish line, threw my arms in the air, and then started sobbing. I was a Boston Marathon finisher! I did not get a PR but I had the incredible time of 3:33:33, a sign to me that Ariella was with me, carrying me, helping me through. I don’t have the words to explain all the emotions running through me. Elation, accomplishment, and some sadness. That doesn’t begin to cover it. I made my way through the finisher area, hobbled to the bag check, grabbed my gear, and finally put on that earned blue jacket.










I went to Boston by myself but I have “family” there (the ones I stayed with the first couple of nights). I was invited to their nephew’s celebration party as he too ran the marathon. But I was more than invited. I was included. They even added my name to the cake. I felt so lucky I had such amazing people to celebrate with. What a special end to an unforgettably incredible day.






I am still riding that high from the race and am happy to have a short break from training. My next marathon is Berlin in September. I have said many times it will be my last. I am looking forward to running again for the sake of running, not towards a specific goal. And if you had asked me at mile 21 I would have said I don’t even want to run Berlin! But a few days later and I can walk stairs again, and well, my time qualifies me for next year with a pretty large buffer so… ?
I don’t know how to adequately describe what makes Boston so special. It’s the liveliness and electricity of thousands of runners taking over the city. It’s the city and the towns embracing the runners. It’s not just an event happening in a city, it is a city-wide event. It’s Marathon Monday. It’s the history. It’s the neighborhoods you run through. It’s the camaraderie. It’s the course profile. And most importantly, it’s the spectators. I can only think of a couple areas along the course that were quiet, and those stretches were short. The support is second to none and got me through some tough miles. All three goals achieved.