Yesterday, I had a random day off from classes. Something about Patriots' Day. I've never heard of it. And I'm pretty sure nobody outside of New England has heard of it either. What exactly were we supposed to be celebrating? Was there a Patriots' Day celebration somewhere?
But God bless Boston for having the insight to shut down the city for one day in April so people can go outside and enjoy the beautiful spring weather.
Oh, and it turns out that for the 109th time, around 20,000 people decided they wanted to drive their bodies into the ground and run more than 20 miles. I headed out to Heartbreak Hill to watch the action on the Boston Marathon as people gave it their all at the 19.5 mile mark.
But as soon as I saw the scene, I felt sorry for the runners. It looked more like people came out for fireworks rather than a marathon, sitting on the side of the road on blankets with a radio blasting the Red Sox game. The last thing I would want to see as I was barreling up one of the most painful hills in Boston would be a bunch of people lined up on the side of the road having barbecues with beers and balloons in their hands.
"You're doing *belch* great buddy! I need another beer. Honey, could you throw another dog on the grill? Wow, that one guy sure looks terrible."
You would definitely feel like you're on the wrong side of the race. Onlookers do contribute. People happily go nuts for any and every runner they see, regardless of race, sex, or ability.
The problem is when the runners hear their names (most have them written in marker on their arms or blazoned across their jerseys) or a reference to their jersey, they suddenly think that it must be somebody who knows them. I guess 19 miles into a race, most runners don't realize that you don't have to be a Texan to shout "Don't Mess With Texas!"
But yesterday was the skinny man's Super Bowl. Do you remember that puny kid from high school who weighed less than your little sister? He was cruising yesterday leaving the big football player types in his dust. Many people gained newfound respect for cross country runners after yesterday.
As I watched this spectacle though, I started wondering what would possess to run a marathon? What kind of motivation would you need to drive yourself through a grueling 26.2 mile race? That's right. Not only are you fighting yourself just to finish the distance, you're racing the guy next to you.
I'm a runner. I run for both the track team and the cross-country team. But when I look myself in the mirror and tell myself that one day I'm going to run a marathon, part of me is thinking "You must have been dropped on your head as a kid."
People tell horror stories about marathons. I've heard how marathons keep people from running for a whole week after the race. And that woman who tossed her cookies right in front of me didn't seem like she was having a fun time.
There's got to be the girl factor. You know one of the guys out there was trying to prove his macho-ness to a fellow competitor of the opposite sex. If you're reading this buddy, I hope it worked (and I hope you didn't lose to her; that probably won't help your chances).
You also have your downright stupid runners. One runner had a king's robe and crown while another guy had a hat with a wire attached from which dangled a beer, three feet in front of him. The other guy who had a phone number on his chest advertising to single women probably should have developed his figure more. I'm not sure how appealing the love handles were.
Another guy was doing surprising well running up Heartbreak Hill for somebody sporting a "Vote For Pedro" shirt, a grandma-style mohawk, and spouting catchphrases like "make yourself a dang quesadilla." But the guy running barefoot simply puzzled me. I can't run to the bathroom without shoes and he's running 26 miles that way.
Of course, after conversations with the rest of the track team who joined me to cheer on runners, I've decided there are some very legitimate reasons for running a marathon. There's the sense of accomplishment that goes into knowing you've just completed 26.2 miles. It's an excruciating test of mind over body, and it's quite a feat when you're on the winning end.
There were also quite a few handicap runners, who in my opinion didn't appear so handicaped. The one-armed runner who was beating quite a few runners seemed very able. There were also quite a few runners with prosthetic limbs.
Then there's my new favorite group of runners. These are the people who run to benefit other people. The Marathon showcased quite a few noble competitors running for ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease), cancer, hospitals, police departments, and, in the case of the crew competing from Tufts, universities. One runner dedicated his race to a friend who died serving our nation in Afghanistan and carried the American flag on his shoulder for the whole race. That's the essence of Patriot's Day.
Patriot's Day proved once again that you don't have to be a puny cross-country type or a Kenyan to compete in the Boston Marathon. You just have to have determination, however odd that determination may be ("you're mom goes to college"). If you missed the marathon, give it a shot next year, and celebrate your Patriot's Day with the rest of the city, harassing runners as you down a brewskie.
Alex Bloom is a freshman who has not yet declared a major. He can be reached at alexander.bloom@tufts.edu.
