Hi Neighbor,
My daughter ran in April’s 26.2 mile Boston Marathon. When she qualified, it confirmed her intense training and dedication. I travelled to support and cheer her on, carrying a large, colorful sign to stand out in the Boston crowd. However, not being a runner, I couldn’t get my head around the motivation for this grueling test of endurance. And being a self-declared CEO of worry, I was accompanied by my own support team, my husband and a container of Tums.
If you, like me, aren’t a runner and haven’t attended the Boston Marathon, be assured, it’s a very (very) big deal for the runners and the city. Being among the supporters lining the route, the obvious determination of the participants made it impossible to stay silently on the sidelines without shouting enthusiastic encouragement as they breezed by. I was beginning to understand the thrill.
The tenacity was inspiring. The wheelchair participants elicited some of the loudest support from the crowd, everyone rejoicing in human resilience.
Alone out ahead, the elite runners were jaw dropping in their elegance and speed. They made one of the most challenging races in the world with its unpredictable weather and hilly course look like a walk in the park. Many other runners walked by us, taking a break. Some resumed running, others resigned themselves to walk to the finish. One runner stopped briefly to vomit, then continued running. Another participant stopped about 1/8 mile from the finish line to assist a fellow runner who’d collapsed, carrying him across as they completed the race together. All finishing participants received a medal, proudly worn following the race and greeted by continued, well-earned exclamations of congratulations from passers-by.
There were almost 30,000 qualifiers in different age categories from all over the world, with 28,800 participating. There were at least half a million spectators lining the 26.2 mile course, ringing cow bells, holding signs and cheering from start to finish. Residents blasted music from their windows. It’s not clear how runners got into “the zone” with that cacophony.
My daughter spotted our sign, smiled and waved hi before she continued running by and triumphantly crossed the finish line. Between snapping a photo and witnessing the intense training and determination succeeding, I chewed one last Tums and shared a mutual relief hug with my husband. That moment of joy and understanding was worth the trip.
Walks in the park for me,
Jane
