Race Report: Boston 10K

I ran the Boston 10K on June 22, finishing in a time of 58:38, which was good enough for the Women's T-35-38 win.

[Yes, it's taken me nearly a month to finish this report. Mea culpa.]

Race weekend started for me on Friday when I flew up to Boston. As part of the professional para-athlete field for this race, I was invited to a visit to View Boston midday Saturday, and I wanted to make sure I was in the city for that. The flight up was honestly one of the roughest I've had in some time - gusts of up to 50 MPH in Boston made for a wild final descent - but I made it there in one piece and on time, which is my definition of a successful flight.

I had a good night's sleep before heading out to Boston Common for my shake-out jog on Saturday morning.  I have been struggling recently with the timing and strength of my Parkinsons medications and so I used this run to test out a medication dosing schedule that I hoped would work for the 10K.  I felt pretty good on the shakeout, and my confidence rose for the next day.

***

The highlight of the afternoon was View Boston (that view never gets old) where I indulged myself by adding to my refrigerator magnet collection.  After that, I hit a nearby gym for an hour of pre-race mobilization, stretching, and foam rolling, and then returned to the hotel for the technical meeting.

Just before the start of the technical meeting, Taylor (para-athlete coordinator for the BAA) approached me.  She and others at the BAA had been working all day to ensure that the medical tent was prepared for heat illness, due to the concerning forecast (80 degrees at race start). She asked if I was aware of any limitations on how to treat people with neurological conditions that had heat illness. Was it OK to dunk them in an ice bath if necessary? 

I responded that I wasn't aware of any concerns or need for special treatment, at least with regard to the Parkinsons population.  After the conversation, I remembered that a) an ice bath would likely induce cramping in someone with Parkinsons and b) many Parkinsons medications have hyponatremia as a side effect.  The first wasn't worth noting - cramping is temporary and a much lower priority than properly treating heat illness.  As for the hyponatremia concern, I emailed Taylor later to give her a heads up so that the med team knew not to force water on someone with Parkinsons.

I appreciated the BAA's hard work to keep this race safe, but I wasn't particularly concerned for myself - I'd been training in very warm and humid conditions for the last week, and I also know to slow down and stay on top of my water and electrolytes in these conditions. (I planned to carry a handheld water bottle and a very salty gel - arguably overkill for a 10K, but I wanted to be careful) However, I was worried about others who hadn't had as much chance to acclimate.

***

The forecast had been for 80 degrees and dry, so I was surprised by the light rain and overcast skies that greeted me on the walk from hotel to para-athlete tent. I viewed this as a positive development - certainly the clouds were much better than bright sunshine. It was quite humid, though. 

I became less enthusiastic about the weather when I started warming up in Boston Common and realized that my shoes were slipping all over the place. I was wearing the Adios 9, which I had assumed had good traction on wet pavement (most Adidas shoes do, in my experience).  But that was not the case.  

[I later checked my log and confirmed that I've never actually worn the Adios 9 in the rain - oops.]

My balance is always one of my challenges, and sliding on the wet pavement amplified this. When I can't find my balance, my body tends to lock up (to understand this, imagine trying to run on ice - it's very hard to overcome the instinct to brace and protect yourself by limiting your stride).  Lovely.

I warmed up for about a mile more than I had planned, toying with different mental cues to try to unlock things.  As I did, I realized that my feet were also slipping around in my shoes, which compounded everything.

I worked my way back to the para-athlete tent, where I had brought an extra pair of thicker socks (I bring pretty much everything, in case I need it).  The para-athlete field was about to be walked to the start from our tent, so I retrieved the socks and carried them with me. Once we were in the starting area, we still had about 15 minutes before the start.  This was enough time to change socks. As for the first pair of socks?  I placed them next to a small pile of trash - they'd have to be sacrificed to the cause.

I tried some strides, and things were slightly better.  I was still slipping, but at least my shoes felt secure on my feet.  Then the para-athlete field lined up and started - a minute after the professional women and three minutes before the open field.  

As we started, I reminded myself to stay relaxed and conservative - 10K can be a very long race if you go out too hard and today could potentially be a rough day.  I had noted potential competitors in my division, and I let them pull ahead slightly while I eased into the race. 

The first half mile of the Boston 10K is uphill (good for me) but has some rough pavement (tough for me).  I navigated that as best I could and then tried to relax into a smoother stride and began to chase down my competition.

And then, of course, the open field came surging up behind us and the next few miles were a struggle to stay on my feet while being jostled. I worked on trying to reel in other para-athletes but would make up some ground and then have to slow down to re-establish my balance again.  At one point I pulled up to a woman who I thought was in my division, only to slip again and have to slow down to readjust while watching her pull ahead.

The Boston 10K course itself is a great one - it's got a nice gently rolling feel to it that is conducive to fast times (similar to the Grandma's races - sometimes gently rolling can be as fast or faster than a flat course because it lets you shift the work around different muscles). I was incredibly annoyed that I wasn't able to take advantage of the course, but my balance was holding me back.

***

It wasn't until the last mile that I realized that I might also be in trouble, heat wise. There was definitely some speed walking involved, and a lot of mental frustration that I tried to put aside until after the race's end.  I managed to get myself across the finish line somewhat awkwardly and then grabbed some railing for support. A few moments of wobbling there earned me a ride to the med tent.  

After a few minutes sitting in the tent, I felt fine. Really annoyed at how my race had gone, but otherwise fine - just really hot and tired, as one would be after racing a June 10K. But the medical team saw something they didn't like and asked me if I felt hot.  Why, yes, I did. (wasn't that normal?) They then took my rectal temperature (with my permission), and it was 106 F, and that earned me a dunk in one of the ice baths Taylor and I had discussed the evening before.

I wasn't terribly crazy about getting dunked - the resulting cramping would be unpleasant.  But...I really couldn't say no after the previous evening's conversation. And heck, it would probably help me recover quicker from the race. So, in I went, after being stripped of my asthma inhaler, heart rate strap, and Garmin. My head, feet, and hands were left out of the tub (the latter two because I have Raynauds) but everything else went in.

The protocol for managing heatstroke, as I later learned, is to cool someone down as rapidly as possible, with an ice bath being the ideal means for doing so. The runner should stay in the ice bath until their rectal temperature drops to 102 F. This became an endurance test of sorts as my calves and feet cramped, followed by my shoulders. All while my temperature first rose a point, to 107 F.

At this point the novelty had worn off. I mentioned that I was really cramping so maybe this wasn't the best idea. The response was that I really needed to stay in the tub. So I did, reminding myself that this was just temporary and would help me bounce back a lot faster from this race. Some very nice med tent staff massaged my feet and my shoulders to address the cramping.  It really was the royal treatment - how many people are lucky enough to get a personal ice bath accompanied by foot massages immediately after a race?

Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, my temperature started to drop.  By 103 F I was starting to shiver, but I still needed to stay until 102 F.  A few minutes more, and then I hit 102 F and was allowed to exit the tub and dry off. This was followed, ironically enough, by a blanket. Underneath the blanket, I changed into a somewhat ad hoc outfit of an extra volunteer T shift and some disposable medical shorts.  Not very fashionable, but dry. 

About this time, Taylor showed up at the medical tent, with a trophy - apparently, I had won my division after all.  So that was a mix of emotions - happy to have won, but muy embarrassed that I had a) ended up in the ice bath after being so confident in my own abilities to manage the heat and b) apparently skipped out on the awards presentation - not cool at all.

***

A bit later I was discharged, with printed instructions to not exercise for seven days and to get checked out as soon as possible when I got home.  My walk of shame was a long five blocks back to the hotel, in my blue oversized disposable shorts and volunteer t-shirt, while carrying a bag of my possessions and a big silver trophy.  I half expected someone to accuse me of having stolen my possessions and the trophy, but nobody did.  I guess it was just another Sunday morning in Boston.

My splits ended up being:

First 2 miles: 18:23
Next 2 miles: 17:40
Mile 5: 9:29
Last 1.21 miles: 13:06.

Not only did I miss multiple mile markers (all my attention was on staying upright), but I also failed to stop my Garmin at the finish. Amusingly enough, this means that I can somewhat estimate how long I spent in the ice bath, as about 37 minutes elapsed between when they removed my Garmin and heart rate strap for the ice bath and when I put the Garmin back on after getting out of the ice bath.

Other notes:

• The weather wasn't awful.  It was 73 with a dew point of 68, and overcast.  Not great weather for a 10K, but not awful. 
  
  
• Because I'm me, I've been thinking my way through all the possible reasons that I had heatstroke (besides the obvious "you were racing a 10K in June"). At this point, I'm an experienced runner who has run and raced in numerous DC summers with weather much worse than this. We had a week plus of very hot and humid weather in DC leading up to this race, which would have helped with acclimation.  And I ran the race at a pace much slower than I expected, while carrying and consuming water and a salty gel.
  
  So far, I've identified a few factors.  The first is that my pre-race warm-up was longer than I would have liked for a longer race on a warm and humid day (3 miles, when 2 would have been better, given the weather).  I knew this at the time but kept running in hopes that my gait would smooth out. The second is that I have been struggling to find the right balance in my Parkinsons meds this year.  And when I don't have the PD under control, my body doesn't regulate temperature very well. Finally, I think I was working so hard to keep my balance that my effort was much higher than the pace would indicate. 
  
  Hopefully fixing the second point will also address points one and three.
  
  
• I had originally planned to fly back to DC on Sunday night but swapped to the Acela train after the US bombed Iran on Saturday night.  I wasn't sure what the next 24 hours might bring, and I could also see airport shutdowns/flight diversions as a possibility if there was domestic retaliation. Since taking the train was an option, I decided to switch. This ended up being a great decision, because the doctor in charge of the medical tent was very much opposed to me getting on an airplane that evening, but OK with a train ride home.
  
  [it was also a good decision because the flight I would have taken ended up being delayed, and I actually got home earlier taking the train.]
  
  It's a seven hour train ride between Boston and DC, which sounds miserable but was actually fun. It was seven hours of sitting in a comfortable chair, snacking, and pleasure reading. It seems like I never have time anymore to just sit and pleasure read for a few hours, and taking the train gave me that time.  In comparison, flying home would have been about 5 hours of navigating transit and security and boarding and flying and deplaning and transit.  So, it's not a huge time difference.
  
  While I wouldn't take the train to/from Boston if I had to go there every week, I think I'll make a point of doing it for races from now on - it's like a lovely mini-vacation to bookend a Boston race.