It is Patriots’ Day, and that means one thing for Bostonians: it is Marathon Monday.
8:00AM: My day starts with race excitement. I immediately regret not taking the day off…despite telling myself last year to do so. I begin to settle into work and then place all of my friends/family/loved ones/random people from my town in my marathon tracker. This year, I was only able to follow 5 of my closest near and dear’s but was spontaneously tracking all those I wanted to follow, including a dear friend, Valerie Bertinelli (HA!)
By about 10AM, I have most likely already become nostalgic. Marathon Monday was important when I was 7. Every year, our entire family would gather at my great grandmother’s Wellesley home to cheer on the runners as they reached the halfway point. There we were, all 25 of us, perched on a Wellesley stoop ready to cheer on anyone who was willing to listen. Our family’s marathon mentality? Cheer for the ones who are struggling, per Grammy’s request. Cheer for the guy who has “Yell: Go Bob!” plastered across his front? Absolutely. Yell for the man dressed as a giant church? You bet. Route on the guy who looks like he might die right then and there? Without a doubt. As a 7 year old, I felt as though it was my civic duty to cheer on those who I thought were running/struggling for our freedom. (Admittedly, I got a bit confused when someone tried to explain the correlation between Patriots’ Day and Marathon Monday. I obviously took it to be a much more direct relationship.) Runners have usually started their pilgrimage to Boston around this time.
12:00PM: I am at the race during my lunch break. The childhood memories flood back, and I soon get the urge to cheer on runners, Grammy style. I watch the runners fly by, usually at a quick pace (and already 15k into it). I realize, that even as a 23.7 moderately active Chiquita, there is no feasible way I would be able to complete a marathon. End. Of. Story.
1:00PM: Back at the office, and I begin reflecting. Why wouldn’t I be able to run a marathon? What is stopping me? I should immediately begin training so that I can cross this item off my bucket list! I think about it, and often map my large post-work run in my head when I realize that as I am pondering the notion of becoming the next Wilma Rudolph, someone has been continuously running since the 10AM start. The interest of running a marathon suddenly loses all of the [minimal] appeal it had if not ten minutes before.
5:00PM: After finishing up a day of work and slowly separating from the excitement that is the Boston Marathon, I suit up for my run, still [slightly] curious as to whether I could participate in a race of this size. I grab my Ipod and pick my most aggressive running playlist, which currently is entitled “run fatty, run.”
5:30PM: 3.5 miles into my run, I realize why I am not training for any race larger than a 5K…I am completely and totally miserable. Maybe next time, Speedy Gonzalez…
6:00PM: I am now sitting on the floor, stretching out from my rewarding, yet simultaneously wretched, run. I sit there watching the 6:00 News with WCVB anchors still standing at the top of Heartbreak Hill. Behind them? Runners, still digging deep to finish…in the dark…with no one there cheering them on. The marathon allure is now completely gone when I realize that I would be one of those people, shuffling into Newton at 7:00 at night. I like to think that my Marathon Monday experience is quite perfect from the sidelines, no running required.
7:00PM: I remind myself to take Patriots day off next year.
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