Three years ago today, 4.16.18, I ran the Boston Marathon for the third time. It was a very tough race. It was also the most memorable. It was the year that Des Linden won, the year I raced with my sister, Sarah, the year my Dad and Step-Mom, Sally, flew across the country to support us in person, and the year my brother Bo, and his amazing wife, Carly, traveled from Nicaragua to surprise us, and then froze their sun-soaked skin off to cheering for thousands of runners all day. It was also the year my race didn’t go as planned, but excellent planning made it an outstanding race.

I haven’t thought much about that race in a while, so much has happened within the last three years, but Des Linden’s fantastic feat of breaking the 50K Women’s World record on Tuesday, 4.13, clocking a blistering 2:59:54, reminded me that it was indeed Boston Marathon week, (historically), and that it would be fun to revisit that nutty race in 2018.

**Des Linden running her 50K World Record in Eugene, Oregon, 4.13.21.**

Therefore, following is a revised version of my Boston Marathon 2018 Race Story. AKA, a revised version of the original post. Enjoy.:)

Once it became crystal clear that we would be running in disastrous weather conditions that included heavy winds, torrential rain, and temps hovering in the low forties, my pre-race strategy of running a 3:10 marathon changed to mere survival.

I felt a heavy burden this year, because I wasn’t alone. My younger sister/athlete, Sarah, was with me running in her first Boston marathon. I stood under the tent at Hopkinton High School in sopping wet, muddy shoes moments before we separated, (we were in different waves), and announced to Sarah our revised race strategy in the most high-spirited tone I could manage, “The most important thing to do today is to warm up as soon as possible after we stop running. So, the real finish line is 54 Berkeley St. See you there. Good luck! I love you!”

**Yours truly and my sister/athlete, Sarah Fox, at the race Expo.**

I am pretty positive I mooned a few thousand runners during the first mile. My wardrobe malfunction was due to an overload of gels stuffed in my short pockets. I usually evenly distribute them between my tri-top pockets, and the side-pockets on my shorts, but since my tri-top was buried underneath three other layers, I opted to hold all seven of my gels in my short pockets. Not a great decision. Unfortunately, I spent the first mile reconfiguring the jostling storage situation, and lost time. Oh, well. Lesson learned. Thankfully, I had my shorts locked down by mile two, and was back on my desired 7:10 min. mile pace.

That was my adjusted goal of the race. I put away my overall 3:10 goal, and just aimed to run every mile on pace which meant I only paid attention to my mile splits, but never looked at the overall time on my watch. Actually, I did look at it one time, but we’ll get to that later.

I ran with all four layers through mile three, then ripped off the heavy, one day old sweatshirt to help lighten the load. I was focused on doing everything in my power not to slow down, so every few miles another water-logged layer was pulled off my torso and donated to the universe.

I could not feel anything below my neck for the second half of the race. It wasn’t that I was numb, or freezing, I just didn’t allow my mind to wander at all from the task at hand, keep moving forward at this pace. I have never been more focused in any other race. There was too much at stake for this one, hypothermia was a legit concern, plus I knew that I was in the best running shape of my life, (thank you, Hillary), and if I wasn’t going to make the time I had been pining after for months because of relentless headwinds and incessant pouring rain, I was going to at least try as hard as I could to run as fast as I could.

Once I passed the mile seventeen mile marker I accepted what was ahead of me, hills.

My pace slipped. I still pushed as hard as I could, and only slowed to an 8:15 mile on the last big climb, the illustrious “Heartbreak Hill.” Then on top of mile twenty-one I took a slight left turn downhill, and trounced the final five miles as quickly as I could. I was clocking 7:36 for miles twenty-two, twenty-three, and I think 7:40 for mile twenty-four? My legs strained to keep up, as I smiled and cranked up my effort. I was so close to the finish, it was time to unload everything I had left.

Steps after I passed mile twenty-five, I looked down at my watch and saw that it read 3:05:30. My stomach dropped. I had no idea I was running that well. True, my goal time was out of reach, but I could still snag to PR. YES!!

When I rounded the right corner onto Hereford Street, I teared up because I knew that my family was somewhere among the drenched crowd that lined the street. I might not see them, but I had faith they would see me.

“GO, T!! YEAH!!” I heard my brother Bo’s voice bellow behind me just as I turned left onto Boylston St. and I pumped my right arm. Then I saw it. The finish line. Full transparency, it was farther away than I would have liked, but I flipped on my “Vista Speed,” and tore down the street like the seventeen year old sprinter I used to be.

It was so fun.

Running fast is SO FUN!

Then I crossed the line, the race was over, but I wasn’t finished. I grabbed my medal and Mylar wrap as soon as the heavenly volunteers handed them to me, then quickly scurried across the four or five blocks down Berkeley St., punched in the code to the front door, rode the elevator up one level to our room, unscrambled the combination on our lock box, snatched the precious key waiting inside, unlocked the door, and finally reached the finish line, our room at 54 Berkeley St. I took a haphazard selfie to document my wet rat moment, ripped off my remaining outfit, and jumped into a hot shower.

I shivered for twenty minutes after I dried off, got dressed, blow-dried my hair, and gobbled two vegan cookies. I knew I was out of the frigid woods, and finally reflected on the adventure I went on that morning. I ran my 48th marathon in 3:14:55, my fastest time yet.

It was not my first marathon weekend, or even my first Boston marathon weekend, but sharing it with Sarah, my family, my teammates, fellow runners, and the thousands of steely Bostonians who welcomed and cheered us on along the entire 26.2 route from Hopkinton to Boston, made it by far my favorite.

**From Left: My brother Bo Fox, Step mom, Sally Kelly, Happy author, sister, Sarah, my sister in law, Carly Fox, and my Dad, Pete Kelly.**

The video choice today is Des Linden's breathtaking finish of her 2018 Boston Marathon victory. Grab the Kleenex.