Dreaming of the Boston Marathon

It never fails. Every third Monday of April comes around and I have regrets about not being in the Boston Marathon. It doesn't matter if I attempted to run a qualifying marathon the previous year or not, some part of me still wants to be running the race.

This past Monday I was on vacation, not due to the race being on television, but it was a rare warm, sunny spring day in Rochester and I wanted to enjoy the weather. After a run on the canal path I got breakfast and began watching the marathon. It was different this year with so many of the faster Americans not being in the race due to the Olympic trials a couple of months ago. The competition at the top quickly became Kenyans and Ethiopians.

While watching the race I realized it has been 20 years since I ran my first, and only, Boston Marathon. During the television broadcast I could still remember running by different spots on the course. I know how I felt at certain locations while running. Back then the race began at noon and we had a long bus drive to the start. It was Boston's 100th anniversary and the field was crowded. I couldn't really eat much and didn't drink enough and ended up with my typical marathon fade beginning by 18 miles.

The crowds were intense and supportive throughout the race. I finished over 30 minutes slower than my qualifying time, but was still happy to finish. After the race I was shivering, had the mylar blanket and tried to drink, but really all I wanted was to find Jan and get back to the hotel. I was pretty much lost and couldn't figure out how to cross the street with so many spectators and runners still finishing. I wandered on Boylston Street until I found a police officer. He just finished telling a family there was no way they were crossing the street. I knew I had to get across somehow. I walked up and asked if I could cross to get to the hotel and my wife. I know I looked pitiful, sweaty, smelly and cramped up. He was a big, burly cop, what you'd expect to see in Boston. He moved the road barrier and said, "you can do anything you want today, go cross the street". I couldn't thank him enough, probably didn't, just mumbled something incoherent. Then the cop closed the barrier and told the family no again. I actually found Jan a few minutes later, or she found me, not sure which.

I was looking at some of the training from 1995-96 we did (yes, I still have all my running log books). Mike, Frank, Augie, Dick, Larry and Rick are names that keep popping up, especially on 20 mile runs and our famous Dump Road 800meter repeats. We built up to 10/800 averaging 2:53-3:03 usually. We were semi-young and of various speeds, but three of us qualified for Boston, Augie, Mike and myself.

Maybe Jan and I should try to qualify? Maybe not, since I said four years ago I had enough of marathons, at least that's what I say until the next Boston, when I'll think I should be in the race.