Why I love Boston

Why I love Boston

I’ve been accused of being an elitist when it comes to the Boston Marathon.  It is because I would rather stand at the start of the Boston Marathon than at the finish of any other road marathon.  I suppose without further information it could sound like I’m thumbing my nose at the other runners that I think I’m somehow special; somehow a member of a special club.  In other words; an elitist.

That’s not true.  That’s not my intention.  The Boston marathon for me is a highly personal race.  It is for these personal reasons that I would rather be there, not because of elitist leanings.

It is personal to me for a number of reasons.

It is a local race that I grew up with.  The zeitgeist of Boston in April is the marathon.  When we were kids there was only one marathon.  All you had to say was “the marathon” and everyone knew you meant Boston.

Back when Chicago and New York didn’t even have a race the world elites came through Boston to run our marathon race.  Each April it would be televised.  The whole race on one of, or all, the local 3 TV channels.  It would be in the newspapers and on the news for weeks.

When I decided to attempt the marathon distance I was already familiar with the race as an icon and as a local thing.

I am not an elitist, but I am a stubborn man.  I am not an athlete, but for some reason I willed myself to become one because Boston had a standard.  Boston expected more from me.  Boston demanded that I suffer and sacrifice and train like I had never done before in order to stand there amidst the throng in Hopkinton.

At 34 years old I decided to qualify.  I worked, I suffered and ran.  I ran speed.  I ran tempo.  I ran long. I ran hills.  I ran 7 days a week and over the course of 16 weeks transformed into that athlete that met the standard.

That transformation changed my life.  It changed the way I thought and acted. It made me a better person in many ways.  It pulled from me and forced from me a level of physical and mental achievement that I did not know I possessed.  It was a highly personal journey.

The standard forced me to find myself.  The standard forced me out of my comfort zone.  The Chris that came out the other side of that effort was a different man.  That man has changed forever.

Since that mental barrier has fallen I have been able to compete in 13 Boston Marathons as a qualified athlete.  It is still hard.  I have to work for it every time. I have to suffer and go to that dark place that training takes you.

It is never easy.  It is on the upper edge of my ability as an athlete.  And that is part of what makes it special to me personally.  The difficulty makes it worthwhile for me.  It makes the process fulfilling.

When I start down the first hill out of Hopkinton center there is no place I would rather be.  I am among a crowd of like-minded competitor soul-mates.  I am running in the shadow of giants.  Johnny Kelly, Clarence DeMar, Bill Rodgers, Joan Benoit, Amby Burfoot – local kids who made it big in Boston.

It’s a special race filled with the ghosts of heroes.

When I stand in Hopkinton on Patriot’s Day there is no place I would rather be.  That is not a commentary on you, or your favorite race, or your running ability, that is a reflection me and my personal relationship with this great race and the greatness it has drawn from so many.