The Boston Marathon...a not so short essay

Since I’ve been a little girl, “Marathon Monday” (aka Patriot’s Day in Massachusetts) has been one of my favorite days of the year. I grew up pretty much on the route (~Mile 10), and lived within walking distance of it (in several different homes) all the way up until last year.

As a child, it was awesome because it was the kickoff of April vacation from school. We would watch the wheelchair racers leave Hopkinton on TV, then head downtown to wait anxiously for the blimp, the helicopters, the motorcycle cops and finally, the news vans. That was our moment to shine! We would wave frantically as the vans slowly drove past in front of the lead runners, never quite realizing that everyone we knew was at the race and therefore, we would never be recognized on national television. (So much for my big break).

As an adolescent, the marathon (yes, THE marathon—I had no clue there were any others) was more of a social scene. I would go down to the race with my friends and walk endlessly up and down the street looking for other kids we knew. If we watched the race at all, it was only to giggle at people running ‘in their underwear’ or to cringe at the bloody nipples. I had zero appreciation for the event I was was so lucky to have practically in my backyard, or the incredible feats of athleticism that were being accomplished while I worried about whether or not my stretchy pink jeans were ‘too much pink’ when worn with my high-top pink Balloons sneakers (they definitely were).

In my early to mid 20s, the marathon became an awesome reason to party. We would start early with bloody marys and breakfast sandwiches, then head down to scream and cheer for the runners, acting like drunken fools and bragging about all of the people we high-fived. We’d hold up signs with updates on the Sox game and drink beers, assuming the runners were having just as much fun as we were (they were, right?). We would be psyched when the weather was hot, and bitch and complain when our barbecues were ruined by rain or cold weather.

In my late 20s, my brother Chris started running the Boston. It was then that I began to truly understand and appreciate the hard work and sheer determination that goes into the race, although certainly not from watching him. He never talked about training and pretty much (maybe always?) finished in under 3 hours, bounding through Natick like a big happy (skinny) kangaroo with a giant smile on his face. Watching the difference between his form/attitude/facial expressions and the folks staggering by 2-3 hours later was like night and day. I grew to respect the people on the back end even more than the elite runners in the front. I mean, they may have been running slower but they were clearly exerting themselves and for a much longer period of time!

Now that I run (jog…power walk…etc), I can say that I have more interest and respect for the great 26.2 than I ever have. Reading the blogs of folks that are training for these events is unbelievably inspiring, and if you’re one of them I hope you pat yourself on the back daily because you DESERVE IT! Now I hope for cooler days, and try to remain reasonably sober throughout the race so as not to miss a thing.

Yesterday was truly an awful weather day for Boston runners (understatement of the century). Although he was still a happy (skinny) kangaroo, even Chris showed minor signs of fatigue as he came through Natick. He finished with a net time of 3:12:33, which is obviously incredible but sadly is just over the qualifying time for next year’s Boston (which is bogus in my opinion).

(going to do this here because it’s weird to say in person…cue sappy violin music)

Chrisr,

I just want to tell you that I am unbelievably proud of you. I know I’ve told you a thousand times before but I want you to know how much I really do admire you. You are always so humble when we run 5Ks together and you pretty much win while I come limping across the finish line 20 minutes later. Although my ‘running’ is probably laugh-worthy to you, you always note my improvements, track my stats in your nerdy mathy way and honor my achievements like I just…ran a marathon (that’s my go-to analogy for doing something awesome). Knowing how hard you trained for this and how frustrated and angry you must have felt upon realizing you weren’t going to make the cutoff just about breaks my heart. If I could march down to BAA headquarters and give them a piece of my mind about their ridiculously strict rules I would (and I still might). In the meantime, know that whether you chose to run another marathon to qualify or to run for charity next year I will give you my unconditional support and at LEAST 20 bucks towards your cause. I love you, little bro (I actually even like you a lot, too). You’re the coolest. :)

Love,

Your somehow even cooler older sister.