The Boston Marathon is a point-to-point course, starting in Hopkinton west of Boston and concluding on Boylston Street in Boston near Arlington station. This also meant two different weather forecasts and the situation made it surprisingly hard for me to figure out how to dress. We would start at 1115 as part of the last wave with clear skies, no wind and 10-12°C – near perfect conditions. The weather in Boston app. 4 hours later would be 5-6°C, cold winds from east and overcast. I ended up with shorts and the official long-sleeved shirt.
The buses departed for the starting area at 0900, less than 10 minutes’ walk from the hotel. We were loaded into a bus (they were all yellow school buses) and we were off west-bound. It took a bit more than an hour to get to our destination and it seemed like we drove for much more than 42km. Also we barely saw another bus on the way, despite being sent off in groups. But we arrived as planned and were led into a large waiting area with just porta potties, info tent and a medical tent. Not much more than that – apart of a large number of runners. The previous wave was still being sent off into the corrals when we arrived so it was a perfect time to spend 15 minutes to queue to use the toilets.
When it was our turn at 1030 we were led toward the corral where we were separated into our respective starting areas. The walk from the waiting area to the start was maybe a 15 minutes’ walk where we passed through a small town along the way. Having found or places, at 1115, as planned, we were off!
Me not dead (yet) somewhere along the course.
Photo by MarathonFoto
Well… Sort of. I don’t know how they decided where the runners would be positioned for the start, but it seemed very not thought through; already within 2 km people were walking, barely running, and clearly much slower than runners behind them. Due to the number of runners and relatively narrow road it was quite the slow slog until it started loosening up at around 7-10 km.
After the beginning crowd everything got much better – apart from the part where there are hills showing up on the course. Looking at the course profile the finish is app. 150m lower than the starting point, but in between there are plenty of hills going up, too (looking on the bright side that’s just even more going downhill!). The most famous is the last major hill called Heartbreak hill at the 33km marker, an app. 30m ascent over 500m. None of the hills were really steep ones, they were just long slogs which really ended up draining you. I could at least keep running up all albeit at a slower pace, but there were plenty of people who just downright walked up the hills – even in the beginning within the first 5 km. Without wanting to judge anyone I got the impression that there were a lot of people who were in way over their heads. It seemed like the “I can do what I want”-mentality trumped everything, including respect for peoples’ actual abilities. Someone had been spotted by someone else in the group at the 2-3km mark in an ambulance with a twisted ankle. Maybe this is typical for marathons, but because this is the first time I am starting in the back instead of somewhere in the middle this is just the first time I get to experience them? In any case it just feels weird.
The weather turned out to be a bit different than forecast. The beginning was – or at least felt – much warmer than the announced 10-12°C, and it stayed like that for the rest of the run. At around the mid-point the wind starting picking up and for the rest of the run we had cold head-winds, but with the temperatures and not a single cloud during the entire run it never really became a problem aside for the extra resistance. At least we had the sun at our backs for the run.
Taking the 3rd and last 90 degree turn, less than a kilometer from the finish line.
Photo by MarathonFoto.
While the course wasn’t a straight line it almost felt like that. There was a slight turn here or there, else we were pretty much heading east the entire way. Probably the only marathon (or at least one of very few) with only 3 90 degree turns – and two of them were both within a kilometer before the finish line inside Boston. It was interesting running through the various towns towards Boston; it was very clear that we started in relatively rural towns and the closer we got to Boston the more posh they got. One of the first towns had a large 2-story house where the entire end wall was covered by an equally huge American flag. It almost didn’t get more American than that. Maybe except…
In the beginning I was running just behind a guy running with a 3 meter flag pole with the Stars & Stripes (how he was allowed to bring that I had no idea, it was way larger than the rules dictated), and passing through one of the first towns there was what looked like a trucker bar, where seemingly all the patrons – primarily large burly men – were standing outside watching the run with drinks in their hands. The moment the runner with the flag appeared most of the onlookers started loudly chanting “USA! USA! USA!” pumping their fists, one saluted it and two started singing the national anthem. It was so surreal. And it felt so American. And honestly? You know when you watch those documentaries about North Korea and we laugh at the amount of indoctrination that’s going on there? This felt eerily similar. I’m sorry, but looking in from the outside some of you have a pretty freaky relationship with identity and the symbols that represent said identity. Oh, well, all part of the experience.
Only a few 100 meters left. Trinity Church in the background.
Photo by MarathonFoto.
The support along the entire run was so intense – I’d say even more so than what I experienced in New York. The marathon here seems to have a special place in peoples’ hearts and this is the first since the beginning of Covid, so there was a bit of catching up to do. People had BBQ-parties involving the entire neighborhood on their front lawns, everyone from kids to the elderly were waving flags or signs of encouragement. Live music everywhere. Outside Wellesley College there was a long line of screaming students screaming their hearts out (such a moral boost, but my ears couldn’t forgive me for high-fiving almost the entire row), aptly named the Scream Tunnel. The roar of people nearing the finish line was the conclusion of a run where the volume from the onlookers for the most of the run was overwhelming.
Crossing the finish line. Never doing this again - until next time, that is.
Photo by MarathonFoto.
Having crossed the line in 3:59:30, just within my goal of 4 hours, I waddled back to the hotel, a route that took significantly longer than when I walked the same path in the morning. I slowly moved to my room (thank you for inventing elevators!) and had a much needed shower followed by a few hours’ rest. The group met up to go and have dinner at Hard Rock Café, and returning at around 2130 I returned once again to my room and as expected stopped doing anything for the rest of the night.
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