For Boston... For Everyone

Last Monday on Patriot’s Day in Boston the spirit of the marathon soared triumphantly. It cascaded along the course of the streets and spilled over serendipitously onto the crowds of eager fans. Those fans lining the streets along the course are fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, cousins, friends, and even pets. I’m fairly certain they all eagerly absorbed the energy. As for the volunteers working alongside the police and medical staff that keep the whole affair in order, they too take in a bit of that marathon spirit. 

So what is this marathon spirit? Well, I can’t explicitly describe it but I can tell you how it made me feel. The morning of the Boston Marathon I woke up frantically worried that I overslept. Having stayed the night at a friend’s place and being woken up by daylight I panicked thinking I had missed the race. Fortunately, I quickly learned it was only 6am and I still had 4 hours before the race even started. I got up and found myself in Jamaican Plain, a historic suburb of Boston, and needed to get back to our hotel in the North End to rendezvous with my pal Adam and my gal pal Penelope. We had all planed on getting together early this morning and staking out a good spot near the finish line to watch for my speedy brother Marvin run his first Boston Marathon.

Marvin posing at the finish chute

This entire trip to Boston was due to Marvin and his qualifying entry into this prestigious race. Once Marvin was accepted entry he immediately let me know this fact and then promptly asked if I was willing to go with him. The answer was of course yes since this year would be extra special due to the resurgence from last year’s incident. Not only had I worn a Run Now Boston bracelet for much of the past year but I also knew that if I ever run this race I would definitely want my brother here to support me too. And lastly, I knew that having someone there for you when you race and seeing them along the course can be an incredible boost.

I left my friend's place and walked to the train. Getting on the T was as mundane as a Monday. The orange line I was on was not a major traffic route for the marathon and most of the commuters were people simply going to work. I was in a less than professional appearance as I had in my lap a dozen of Boston’s finest lagers ready for imbibing in these pre-marathon hours. In my hand I handled a newspaper which had a few articles on the marathon. I quickly read them and then looked at the rest of the sports section. I read that the Red Sox had pulled off an impressive win the night before and smiled knowing that I was a part of that fun game. 

Adam and I needed to kill some time the night before and planned on going to Fenway Park and partaking in the local culture by drinking some beer’ahs and eating some Fenway Franks. What we didn’t plan on was watching one heck of great game of baseball. We enjoyed the game very much and when the Red Sox won in extra innings we spontaneously sang Chelsea Dagger. I’m sure the Bruins fans in the crowd recognized the Chicago Blackhawks victory song but they didn’t let it ruin their good mood. And to be fair at least we weren’t singing the Go Cubs Go song which surely would have given us more hard glares (especially from Adam, a White Sox fan).

Taking in the game with some "beer-ah"

I put the paper down and got off at the Haymarket stop. I walked to the hotel and strolled into a Bakery tucked in an alley behind it down a flight of stairs. Adam met me here and we got ourselves some fresh bread for breakfast. After eating we helped ourselves to some tasty Samuel Adams to wash it down. Penelope arrived soon and we had her helping us tidy up the room before we checked out. She helped mainly by taking my multifunctional headwear and placing it on her own head and also helped lighten my load by putting on a light hoody sweater of mine. To be fair she did trade me a 20 cent hair tie. It was a fair trade if I’ve ever seen one, but I was generous and also threw in a few Boston Lagers to sweeten the deal for this sweet gal.

The time was 11am. The marathon had been started for an hour and we were still tidying up the room. I had already received the mobile alert that my brother had passed the 10K mark and we needed to get going in order to get a good spot near the finish. We all put on our matching Runners Love Boston shirts and rushed out to the street. The sun was out shining brightly and caused a flicker from a bright green Kawasaki buggy. We immediately yelled to the driver that we needed a ride. He heard our pleas and we soon bounded down the streets pushing speeds of 45 miles an hour in this tiny green car telling the driver to go faster and get us closer to the race. With the wind blowing and our laughter going it was quite an entertaining ride. And then, we were there. The finish line of the Boston Marathon was down the street.

The day before Marvin, Adam, and I had walked up to the finish line and observed the excitement gathered around this ornately painted piece of pavement. This section of the street was the ground where records have been broken, thousands have triumphed, and more than a few have dropped to one knee here to ask their beloved to marry them.  But perhaps the most solemn part was another section a few dozen feet away from the finish. There was a memorial set in place where the first bomb had gone off the year before. The names of those people were written there and I noticed a pair of running shoes hanging in the tree above this site. Whose shoes were they?  They must have some meaning but to me they symbolized what we were all here for; to run together, to stand together, and show the world the resilience that the marathon stands for.

The memorial

And so Adam, Penelope, and I made our way through the security checkpoints and found an open spot along the fence to cheer from. We had just heard the first set of cheers and later learned that it was from Meb Keflezighi as he became the first American to win the Boston Marathon since 1983. We did see some of the other elites such as Ryan Hall, Jason Hartmann, and Matt Flaherty come charging in for the finish. Then the slow trickle of the sub-elites started coming in. This is where we spectators really start to come alive. When I started seeing some people slow down or show a grimaced face my voice went up and encouraging words spewed out. I got a few acknowledgements of mostly waves or thumbs up, but I was happiest when I simply saw them smiling back to me. 

The sun was making the day warmer and my head was starting to throb from the yelling and cheering and possibly from the few Boston lagers I had consumed within the past few hours. Irregardless, I continued on my crusade yelling as loudly as I could to help as many runners feel motivated to run the last stretch of the world’s most prestigious marathon. Adam and Penelope joined me and together we created a fine chorus that awakened the other spectators around us and made our section a powerhouse. I felt so alive and connected to these runners that were completing something extraordinary. And then just as I was recharging my lungs for the next burst of yelling I saw my brother and went bonkers. There he was running strong and looking cool as ever. He had struggled a bit since the mobile alerts had let me know his split times and I saw his pace had slowed down. So I made sure to yell extra loud and cheer him on with all my might. He saw me screaming and his face light up. I had cheered so many people on at this point and I was dealing with a pounding headache but seeing my brother running sent a wave of endorphins through my body that I didn’t care I was dehydrated and losing my voice. I was here to support my brother. I cheered him on boisterously and he ran on jovially on Boylston Street to cross the finish line.  

So how does the marathon share its energy? Well if you haven’t picked up on it yet it’s not just the distance or the course. It’s the people and their willingness to put forth a tremendous effort for themselves and for those willing to see the limits of the human potential. They put it all out there for 26.2 miles for everyone to see. The fans are a big part of it too and lest we forget, the spirit of the marathon is indomitable. A lesson the city of Boston has known for 118 years. And when thrown into question last year about its resolve, a resounding answer was heard loudly this year on the streets of Boston. One that will continue to ring every year on Patriot’s Day.