Everyone knows that the Boston Marathon is THE marathon. One has to qualify to get there (sorry, I'm not a fan of charity runners at Boston), and some people try for years to get to Boston. The entire city shuts down for Patriots Day, so the crowds are thick. You get to run through Wellesley and Boston College, which are both insane. For all these reasons, and many more, simply running my first Boston Marathon would land itself on this list. However, I didn't just run the Boston Marathon.
I decided to run Boston with an American Flag...and American Flag shorts...and a stars and stripes singlet...with US knee-high socks. Once again, Paul Leone, makes his way into the story. Paul said if I ran with the flag, he would jump in and run 10 miles or so while carrying his American flag.
The day before the marathon, I got a text from my co-worker (and friend) Erika asking if I'd wear a powdered wig and collar in the marathon. I said no. When I told Paul about it, he immediately said he would. What resulted was a patriot/Sam Adams/George Washington/Paul Revere outfit. We would be quite the pair once we met during the race.
As I waited in line with a couple friends to board the bus out to Hopkinton, several people spied my flag and asked if I was running the entire race with it. One gentleman even gave me tips for carrying it, as he had carried a flag for a marathon previously. He also warned me that my arms were going to get very, very tired. I boarded the bus and tried to nap unsuccessfully. Eventually we arrived in Hopkinton at the school and milled around for a bit, gradually finding a group of our friends.
As we sat around and chatted, a gentleman approached me and asked if I was running with the flag. I replied that I was. He shook my and and produced a picture of his son in fatigues. He thanked me for himself and for his son, who was serving in Iraq. It was the first taste of what Paul had told me would happen if I ran the marathon with the flag. Paul had run the Gasparilla Half Marathon a couple months before with a flag and it said it changed things. What started as somewhat of a joke turned into something more serious and revered. I was about to find this out myself.
I made my way down to the start line and waited until the race started to raise the flag and start running with it. As the mass of runner started moving forward, I raised the flag to cheers of the crowd. With adrenaline pumping, I cruised quickly through the first couple miles, as the course made its way downhill. A couple miles in I ran into Chris Solarz. He took pictures of the two of us while we chatted. Soon after, I ran into Adam. He and I talked for a bit as we cruised along. I came through the 10K mark at around 40 minutes and realized I needed to slow down or I was going to have a LONG, painful day.
As I ran, small crowds chanted "U-S-A, U-S-A" and runner after runner came by and thanked me for carrying the flag. I high-fived everyone from Santa to Homer Simpson to a very obvious trannie. A couple runners wearing "I Break for Beer" shirts stopped and chugged a couple longnecks somewhere around mile 7 to the cheers of runners and spectators.
Around mile 9 or so, someone told me that my flag had come untied. I looked up and the top string holding the flag to the pole had broken. I stopped to fix it and a soldier came over and held the pole for me as I retied the flag with some spare string that Paul had ingeniously recommended I take along. I retied the flag, thanked the soldier, and continued my run. Each time I passed a group of soldiers (there were many of them), they paused to salute the flag.
I wasn't sure exactly where Paul was going to meet me along the course, but I knew he couldn't miss me. I also knew one of my friends was holding a sign for me around the 13 mile mark, but I never saw him. Somewhere around mile 14 Paul and I spotted each other. I stopped and waited on him to get ready and he told me about his run out to meet me. Paul donned the powdered wig, threw on his ruffled collar, and the two of us set out to dominate the rest of the Boston course. Immediately, the crowd took notice and and we started getting comment. Wellesley soon came up and we entered the "Scream Tunnel." It was insanity with all the girls hanging over the railing liberally giving out kisses to runners.
A short time later, Paul and I ran into Solarz again and the three of us ran as a group into Boston. Along the way, we stopped for pictures with a girl dressed as the Statue of Liberty and another guy dressed as a Patriot. My energy started running low as we neared Heartbreak Hill. I'd had an injury a few months back and hadn't been able to put in the training volume I needed. I was looking forward to Heartbreak Hill though, because I knew that at the top of the dreaded hill was the Nike Cheer Zone. My co-workers would be there and there would be plenty of rowdy college students to help re-energize me. I kept looking to my right trying to spot the zone, which is why I didn't realize Paul, Solarz, and were running through the Cheer Zone until I was already in it.
Our flags had given us away long before we spotted the Cheer Zone, so Erika and crew were already waiting for us. As Erika handed Paul and I personalized water bottles filled with some sort of Gatorade concoction and decorated with bells and ribbons, chants of "U-S-A" greeted us.
With renewed energy, Paul, Solarz, and I continued our dominance of the Boston Marathon course. We gave out high-fives, smiled, yelled, and posed for pictures. Eventually I noticed Solarz right behind a random guy and he was taking a lot of pictures of the guy's lower half. I jogged over to where Solarz was and quickly realized why he was taking pictures. The guy had crapped himself at some point earlier in the race and it was run down his legs, either due to sweat or from him trying to wash it off with cups of water. It was quite evident that the guy was in some pain from chaffing due to his awkward gait. I know its' Boston, but I draw the line at running man miles with crap in my pants and on my legs. MAYBE if it was for a spot at Kona (see IMFL Poop Guy).
As I spotted the Citgo sign and Fenway, another rowdy group of spectators started doing a "U-S-A" chant, so Paul and I immediately started giving out high-fives to everyone with a hand and a pulse. I was really dragging at that point, but I knew the finish was within reach, so I dug deep, put a smile on my face and continued running. By the time we turned onto Boylston for the final stretch, you could knock a smile off either of our faces. Paul bid me farewell and hopped out of the race about a quarter mile before the finish line. I used that last stretch as a "victory lap" and soaked everything in. I was finishing the Boston Marathon. Something I'd once only dreamed of. I crossed the finish line and then waited on Solarz to come through a few seconds later. We snapped a quick picture together and then congratulated each other on the finish.
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