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Boston Marathon #11

The Boston Marathon was an unforgettable experience and a monumental milestone for me as it was my first time running this iconic race. Leading up to race day, I was filled with nerves and excitement. Kim and I had spent the winter coaching the Fleet Feet Boston training group, which made the journey even more meaningful. Kim was always prepared, even bringing a shovel to clear space for the water coolers along our snowy training routes.


This year marked the first anniversary of the Boston Bombing, so there was heightened security at the marathon, adding a solemn yet inspiring layer to the event. The weekend leading up to the race was incredible.


Through Fleet Feet’s partnership with a special group, we were invited to exclusive receptions, where I even got to meet Kara Goucher. When I asked her for advice on the course, she wisely said, “Just don’t go out too fast.”


On race morning, we were taken to the start in a comfortable coach bus, and we stayed on board to keep warm. As the waves were called, the bus began to empty. Kim left with an earlier wave, and I was left alone with my swirling anxiety. When my wave was finally called, I made my way to Athletes Village. I needed to use the bathroom but was deterred by the massive lines for the porta-potties. Not wanting to miss my start, I followed a group of women peeing behind a dumpster—only to later discover plenty of porta-potties near the starting corrals.


Jeanne Corey Marchand, Boston Marathon, 2013 - Jeanne Runs

As the starting gun went off, I began running with adrenaline and excitement coursing through me. The early miles of the course were downhill, and despite Kara’s advice, I went out too fast. I felt invincible for those initial miles, but as I approached the infamous hills of Newton, reality hit hard. The combination of the heat and my early speed caught up with me, and I began to struggle. Walking up the hills, I felt defeated, questioning my ability to finish. I kept pushing forward, convinced each hill must be Heartbreak Hill—only to discover there was always another one ahead.




Finally, I saw my friend Skip, who had promised to cheer for us on Heartbreak Hill. Desperate for confirmation, I asked him, “Skip! Is this Heartbreak Hill?” He replied, “Not until you get to the top,” and he ran alongside me, giving me the boost I needed to keep going.


When I saw the iconic Citgo sign, I knew the finish was near. That final turn onto Boylston Street was surreal. The crowds were relentless, their cheers echoing in my ears. With a renewed sense of determination and joy, I ran down Boylston Street, savoring every moment. Crossing the finish line was a flood of emotions. I had just run the Boston Marathon. It was incredible and an experience I’ll treasure forever.


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