The 2018 Boston Marathon was my 5th, and without a doubt, the most memorable. From the moment the 10-day forecast was released, I started tracking the weather. Each day, the temperature dropped, and the chance of rain increased.
For once, the weathermen were spot on. The night before the race, the wind howled and sleet pelted the skylights, and I closed my eyes hoping for the best. When we woke up, the sound of a plow truck outside signaled the storm’s aftermath. The ground was covered in snow, with sleet and freezing rain still falling.
Initially, I had planned to wear shorts, a tank top, sleeves, a hat, and a throwaway shirt, but as the conditions worsened, I grabbed extra layers for warmth. The shorts I had hoped to wear never left my bag.

Getting to the Start Line:
The drive to the bus pickup was nerve-wracking. We followed a plow truck down a steep hill to get to the main road. The slush and snow covered the roads, and the rain and sleet came down so hard it was hard to see. After some tense moments, we made it to the bus. As we boarded, Channel 8 News was filming us.
The bus took us to the parking lot at the school in Athlete’s Village. For the first time, I stayed on the bus until it was time for my wave to start. The rain was still coming down sideways, and I was bundled up with my tank top, arm warmers, a light jacket, a throwaway shirt, and a garbage bag for warmth. We started the walk to the athlete’s village, trying to avoid puddles while shaking from the cold. My buff was already wet, and I could feel the chill on my neck.
Athletes Village:
When we arrived at Athlete’s Village, it was unlike any other year. The usual crowd of runners camped out in tents was missing, and instead, the mud looked like quicksand. Water poured off the roofs in sheets, and runners were wrapped in plastic bags, trying to stay dry. There were broken umbrellas, discarded clothing, and muddy sneakers everywhere. As we shuffled toward the corrals, the wind picked up, and the rain turned to sleet. My feet were already soaked, but I kept moving forward, hoping for a warm start.
The Start of the Race:
It took what felt like an hour to get to the corrals, and when we finally arrived, the announcer yelled, “Just find an open corral and start running.” There was no warm-up, no waiting—we simply started running before we even reached the corrals. It was the first time I forgot to start my watch until I was half a mile in. I had no idea what pace I was running; I just knew I had to keep moving.
The Race:
The first few miles passed quickly as I fought to stay warm. My hands were warm thanks to hand warmers, but my feet took longer to warm up. Puddles were unavoidable, and with every step, I could feel my sneakers getting heavier. Then, the wind would pick up, and the rain would blast my face. I’d shiver, put my head down, and keep moving.
The volunteers at the water stops were my heroes. Despite the weather, they cheered us on with words of encouragement, showing no sign that they were struggling too. Looking back, I realized that the cups at the water stops were probably filled with rainwater.
Heartbreak Hill:
Around mile 16, my hands and wrists started to feel like they were being hit by something hard. My hand warmers were frozen in my gloves, and I couldn’t feel my fingers. I tried to remove one glove, but my fingers had stopped working. I ran holding the wet glove as I couldn’t get it back on. Fortunately, my friends were waiting on Heartbreak Hill with dry gloves and more hand warmers. They kept me going for the next few miles.
Finally, I made it to Heartbreak Hill. My friends were like angels. I tried to get my gloves off for the exchange, but my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. I looked at my friend Reggie and simply said, “Help me.” I was drained, both physically and mentally. I spotted a runner wearing the same shirt I was, and I tried to joke, “It’s a throwaway, but I’m too cold to throw it away!” I don’t know if she heard me, and honestly, I wasn’t sure I even said it aloud.
My quads were cramped and painful with each step. I took salt a couple of times, and when my friend Kim’s hamstrings started to cramp, we used the tube of Base Salt I had brought along. It saved us.
The Final Stretch:
Miles seemed to pass more quickly from that point on. My sneakers were completely soaked, and my oversized throwaway shirt was drenched. It felt like I had a sock or something stuffed in my tights, and upon looking at photos later, I realized the shirt had somehow made its way there. I worried about chafing, but I pushed it out of my mind.
The crowd support in Boston is unlike anything else. Even in the brutal weather, people cheered us on. I high-fived a couple of kids and smiled as I got closer to the finish line. And then, I saw it—the CITGO sign. I knew I was going to make it.
I ran past a blind runner, listening to their guide warn them about a slight hill ahead, and I marveled at their strength. The runners around me were all pushing through the storm, still covered in garbage bags. Finally, we turned onto Hereford Street. I knew the finish line was close. I ripped off my throwaway shirt, unzipped my jacket to expose my bib, and picked up the pace. Everyone around me seemed to do the same.
We made the turn onto Boylston Street, and the cheering crowd was overwhelming. I threw my hand in the air and screamed in excitement. I smiled at Kim, and we crossed the finish line together. I was so exhausted that I couldn’t even cry. The medics lined up with wheelchairs, and I knew I needed to keep moving to stay warm.
Post-Race:
As I received my heat shield, a gust of wind hit, and the rain started again, taking my breath away. I was shaking uncontrollably from the cold, but I just kept walking toward the hotel to warm up. It felt like hours before we finally arrived. I had survived the 2018 Boston Marathon, which will go down as one of the coldest in 30 years.
Despite the terrible conditions, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m still amazed that I kept going and finished strong. It’s true what they say: the mind will quit 1,000 times before the body will. I never let negative thoughts take over. I dug deep, pushed through, and never gave up.
Boston 2018 – DONE!
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