The 2025 Boston Diaries: -30-
A journey 5.5 years in the making comes to a close
“How long had you trained for the Boston Marathon,” I was asked Monday afternoon.
“For five and a half years,” I responded.
My journey to Boston came to an end on Monday, April 21st, as I took part in the 129th edition of the famed marathon.
One week later, I’m still trying to put into words what the day meant to me. How it unfolded. It’s less about the race and more the moment in time that’s now sticking with me. Could something live up to the hype like I hoped it would? Could the day be as special as I imagined it could, even as I’d be in the midst of pain, both the usual pain of a marathon and my injury as well?
Could it?
It did.
Often in life, we talk about being present. Trying to take in the day — the minutes and hours within the day — as it comes. It’s often hard to do, but even harder yet when you can’t stop thinking about the end of something like I did with the final two turns at the Boston Marathon.
But as the morning unfolded, I thought I did a good job at taking it all in.
I met up with five other AAC pals ahead of a charter bus to Hopkinton. A little less stress, a little more comfort, was the name of the day.
And wow, were the vibes high.
The morning of a race is always filled with an incredible amount of nerves, but without the pressure of a PR for yours truly, it was less raw nerves and more raw excitement.
I was finally here. I had made it. All those hours, all those runs, were leading to this morning.
Again, I was as present as I could possibly be.
The bus ride to Hopkinton took close to an hour. Plenty of time to chat and meet new people — we met quite the contingent from Michigan — and ask fellow racers about their plans, strategy, and pace goals in the early part of the race.
Given I wasn’t going for a PR — the first time I have entered a marathon like this… ever? — I ended up listening more than speaking throughout the bus ride in. I had a strategy, no doubt, but I was much more curious as to how other racers were planning on attacking the early downhills, the Newton Hills after the halfway point, and other parts of the race.
My plan? 6:30s for the first 4-5 miles, which would be downhill, 6:40s until the Newton Hills (which started at mile 16), and see what I had left in the tank after Heartbreak at mile 20. A similar plan to previous races in that whatever I did for the first 20 miles would lead to one final 10k at the end. I had no idea what to expect.
As 8:00 am turned to 8:30 turned to 9:00, it was about that time to make our way to the start. I’d be entering with the first wave, heading to the third corral. I wouldn’t start at 10:00 on the dot, but I wouldn’t be too much later1.
I made one final stop at a porta-potty, hoping I wouldn’t need to do so at all during the race. I entered my corral, soaking in the sights, the sounds, the vibes.
It was race day at the 129th Boston Marathon and I was about to race 26.2 miles from Hopkinton to downtown Boston.
I had made it.
This week in podcasting:
Want a little bit more on the 129th Boston Marathon, plus more background on my training in the leadup? This week’s episode — the 100th of Chasing Three Hours — hit on all that and more. It was absolutely wonderful bringing my dad Tim Peterson back onto the pod one more time to talk through it all.
For 14 months, the title sponsor of Chasing Three Hours has been Fleet Feet Omaha. I cannot thank Lori Borer and the entire team for supporting me like they have since March of last year. Be sure to stop by and support them and if you mention the pod, you’ll get $15 off your first pair of running shoes.
This marks the final regular episode of the podcast. It will return, but I don’t know when at this point. Thank you so, so much, for listening. It’s been an absolute joy putting this project together.
I was running in the Boston Marathon.
And my heart rate was through the freaking roof.
In both 2024 marathons — Eugene in April, Chicago in October — I found myself trying to tamp my HR down in the early miles of the race. Excitement and nerves played such a big part in it being jacked early but eventually I was able to get it under control. In Eugene, it was because I finally settled in. Cut to Chicago, and it was because I slowed down a bit.
As much as I tried early in Boston, I couldn’t. Which was concerning, given I was going downhill.
I lost 108, 62, 59, and 66 feet of elevation over the course of the first four miles. Meanwhile, my HR was approaching the 180s; way, way too high for the pace I was running — 6:36, 6:32, 6:31, and 6:36 — not to mention way too high for the pace I was running downhill.
I was concerned.
My gameplan of 6:30s and 6:40s was going to be reliant on a lower HR than normal inside of a marathon, with my fitness counteracting whatever issues would pop up from my hamstring injury. It was only a matter of time before I felt that pain. How on earth would I be able to hold that pace, with the pain to come, if my HR was that high?
I powered on. I had no other choice.
Even with the jacked HR, I smiled and smiled as I took in the day.
For all the concerns about HR and pace, I was present. How many times did I think to myself, “you’re here?” I would love to know.
And wouldn’t you know it, things started settling in. I was leaning into my gameplan, clocking in mile’s 5-10 at 6:36, 6:33, 6:39, 6:40, 6:37, and 6:44. My HR started hitting the low 170s before dipping into the high 160s. I was right where I wanted to be.
At mile six, the first pain of my hamstring injury showed up. I knew I’d be managing it at some point in time, I just didn’t know when. Well, it would be there for 20 miles or so, I told myself. The hope was that it wouldn’t rise too high and that it was something I could deal with.
I finished the next three miles in 6:35, 6:38, and 6:38 before crossing 13.1 miles at 126:48.
I was averaging 6:37-per mile with plenty of buffer to chase and catch three hours.
The real race was just about to begin.
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At this point, the Newton Hills were about three miles from starting. I’d be seeing my family — my younger brother Caleb and his wife Cassie — after Heartbreak. So, I had to get to 16 and then to 20. It would begin the ending stretch with 11 family members in total.
The goal was to hold onto the pace just a little bit longer, knowing I wouldn’t push myself beyond capabilities while going uphill. It was getting tough.
I started having doubts.
I felt like I was holding on to a rope, ready to slip and fall at any moment. The pain in my hamstring was there, reminding me of itself constantly. My HR, still in the high 160s, better than earlier, but I felt like I was laboring.
I didn’t know if I could do it.
“You know, if you slow down now, you can just use the hamstring as an excuse — use the lower mileage as an excuse — it would make sense.”
I thought that as I approached the first of four hills. I leaned on those words, asking myself if I could do this — if I could hold on — or if it was a fool’s errand.
I shoved the thoughts aside.
Mile 14 in 6:34.
Mile 15 in 6:52.
Mile 16, losing 108 feet of elevation right before the first hill, in 6:35.
I had ten miles to go.
In episode 99 of Chasing Three Hours, 13 former guests joined the pod with advice on how to handle the race and everything the weekend would bring. Derek Loseke focused a bit of his advice on the first hill — the hardest, to him — and as we made our way up it, I took those words and leaned on them.
It was hard, but I just kept pushing.
Gaining confidence, even in the midst of pain.
Confidence, seeing other runners walk while I still ran.
The hardest part of the race came in these miles, as I ran back downhill and felt my entire left leg enveloped in pain. It’s like my hamstring injury was a virus, spreading through every single part of that limb. If I went through that pain any longer, on any of the other up or downhills, I didn’t think I could hold the pace.
Mile 17 clicked in at 7:07, nowhere near as bad as I expected it would as I made my way up.
I did it all over again in mile 18, but this time, the pain didn’t return. “Ok, I can do this,” I reminded myself.
7:03 for mile 18.
I was giving back time, but not too much. A 2:59:59 marathon is 6:52-per mile, so I started viewing each mile as better or worse than that time. I had only given back 15 and 11 seconds during 17 and 18. With eight miles to go, I was multiplying the remaining miles by 7:00-per. If I could hold that, I’d beat my goal by less than a minute.
This was now my goal.
Mile 19 in 6:55, only a few seconds lost.
And the final hill — Heartbreak — over the course of mile 20 — 7:10 — and 21 — 7:20.
And then, I saw my family.
My sister-in-law Cassie recorded the video as I ran by. All that pain — I was nearing cramping at this point, trying to ride the line as close as possible — all that fatigue; suddenly gone.
I couldn’t help but yell, hooting and hollering.
I could do this.
I had a couple miles to go until I saw my next group.
I was still giving a bit of time back, still holding on to the pace as best I could.
A 7:16 for mile 22.
A 7:21 for mile 23.
I had just over 22 minutes left if I was going to beat my goal. About seven minutes-per mile, if I was going to catch three hours after the hardest training block of the last 5.5 years.
As I crossed the 23 mile mark, I knew I’d see my youngest brother Luke and his wife Abbie soon. After the excitement and almost cramping of the previous brother and wife sighting, I told myself to be a bit more calm — quiet, stoic — when I saw them.
I didn’t follow my advice.
I mean, seriously.
Shoutout Luke for capturing the video.
I was losing more elevation now. -79 feet for mile 22, -36 for 23, and -69 for mile 24, the last of those clocking in at 7:01.
I had barely two miles left and just under 17 minutes to beat three hours.
And somehow, I pushed the pain aside.
As I think back on this race that’s now a week old, I have no memories of hurting. No memories of almost cramping. It’s like I was able to compartmentalize everything over the course of the final two miles and push like I never have before.
As I hit mile 25 in 7:16, I knew it and said the words out loud:
You’re going to do it.
I still had 1.2 miles left. But I knew in that moment that I’d be finishing the race with a “2” as the first number.
Which allowed me to take it all in.
I looked around.
I smiled.
I listened.
The support of the Boston Marathon is unmatched by any race I’ve ever ran. If I run one better, I can only imagine how it would look and sound.
This was one of the best moments of my life.
And I still had a right on Hereford and a left on Boylston to make.
I cried.
I cried and I cried.
I made the right turn on Hereford, spotting my dad holding an AAC flag. I pointed at him, told him I loved him, preparing for the final left turn on Boylston.
And I soaked every single step in. I marked my watch — 6:42 for mile 26 — not even looking down to see the time. I could only be amazed and astounded by the noise and support of those final few feet.
I looked left and then right and then left again, before finally setting my sights on the finish line.
I had made it.
I finished in 2:58:46.
How many times in your life have you built something up in your mind — a sporting event, a meal, a movie or TV show — only for it to let you down?
How many times in your life have you built something up in your mind, only for it to exceed expectations?
The former happens much more often than the latter. I can probably count on one hand how many times something I was excited for turned out better than I hoped it would.
The 2025 Boston Marathon? THE BOSTON MARATHON? It’s in the latter category. The emotions of years of work hit me at once. I was crying like I rarely had before. Trying to take in everything around me through wet and blurry eyes.
And in a flash, it’s a week later.
I don’t know where my running journey will take me next. At the end of episode 100, my dad asked me what I am chasing. I have thought a lot about that question in the days since, my answer remaining mostly the same.
I’m chasing health.
I’m chasing adventure.
I’m chasing fun.
But most of all, I’m chasing the feeling that only running can give me; that feeling running gave me, on Monday, April 21st, 2025, as I made my way from Hopkinton to Boston. As I overcame doubts and fought against the feelings that bubbled up during those 26.2 miles.
As I ran my race.
The official start time according to my Strava? 10:01 am.
Had saved this for a rainy day. Obviously I knew you had finished and were proud, but I knew the recap would be a banger. Just what I needed on a crummy Monday. Congrats again, Josh!
Josh, I have really enjoyed following you on this journey. As a fellow endurance athlete, I enjoyed reading and listening to your ups and downs as you pursued your goals. I am glad you are stepping away for a bit…you have earned it and I look forward to what’s next, when you return. Until then, I will enjoy following you on social media, listening to the progrum, when I can, and hopefully running into you at Monothic or an Omaha running trail in the future. Cheers and enjoy your long run!