Finding America at the Boston Marathon
Published in the Boulder Daily Camera, 4/21/13
My journey to this year's Boston Marathon began 26 years ago when my son, Colin, did his first Bolder Boulder at 4 years old. My wife and I insisted that he had to do it all himself and, though he pitched a few temper tantrums on the course, parental comforting and bribery worked. He completed it on his own.
Twenty-three years and a lot of races later, Colin ran his first marathon. However, this marathon was the third leg of an Ironman race. As he said on his Facebook page that morning, "I'm running my first marathon today and, for a warm-up, I'm swimming 2.4 miles and biking 112 miles." Only someone who grew up in Boulder could think that way.
Last year, he spent a "training day" running the Denver Marathon. At the end of the race, the first thing he told me was, "Dad, I qualified for the Boston Marathon. Wanna go?"
I sure did.
The Boston Marathon has been a celebrated American institution for a long, long time, and I have always been in awe of people who could run for 26.2 miles at a pace I would have trouble maintaining for 26.2 yards. While I've been an avid jogger, I never seriously considered running a marathon, much less running fast enough to qualify for Boston.
But, there are many reasons to have children and, in my case, it turns out that one of them was to get me to the Boston Marathon. So, last Friday, Colin, his wife, son, mom and I headed off to Boston.
We stayed a few blocks from the finish line and spent the two days before the race celebrating America by exploring a remarkable historic city. We saw and tasted the roots of the American Revolution, even going by a Tea Party rally at the State Capitol where we sensed that the feisty revolutionary spirit was alive and well today. Of course, we ate lobster, which my 2-year old grandson branded as a "big bug." It was glorious.
Marathon Monday, as Bostonians call it, started out with clear skies and warming temperatures. I joined Colin as he walked to catch the 6:30 a.m. buses that would take 25,000 runners to the start line. The bus lines were long and full of excited runners from all corners of America and the world. As I had hoped, the buzz was contagious. It was a perfect day for a marathon.
As Colin was running, the rest of us found a comfortable spot to watch the race about a quarter mile from the finish where we made friends with other spectators supporting their friends and families. We watched wheelchair racers come in first along with soldiers who had walked the course overnight with full packs. Not much later, the men and women elite racers came by including the first three men separated by only a few seconds. Soon, the course was filled with the great athletes who can finish a marathon in under 3 hours. Colin whizzed by us at 2:46 into the race to finish a few minutes later. A great race, a great American institution, and we were part of it. Truly, life does not get any better than at that moment.
We headed to have lunch before going back to the finish area to watch runners come in, and we all know what happened next. As we were eating, we noticed the crowds forming around the television and saw Colin's face go white. He had received the news of the explosions on his iPhone a moment before. As instructed, we went back to the hotel and watched the horror show on television along with the rest of America. The area around the finish line turned into a crime scene, so there was little to do but contemplate the meaning of the ambulances, police cars, and military vehicles that were racing by. In the words of Massachusetts' governor, it was a horrific scene.
But, terrorists only win if they terrorize. The next morning, we spent several hours walking the Boston streets that weren't closed. While the mood was subdued and the police omnipresent, Boston was alive. Businesses were open, the parks were full of parents pushing children in strollers, and Boston was recovering.
Our hearts go out to the victims of this evil act and may justice prevail. But, this year's Boston Marathon was, to me, not just a chance to witness extraordinary athletes. They had to share the stage with the immutable American spirit that was, once again, on full display.
My journey to this year's Boston Marathon began 26 years ago when my son, Colin, did his first Bolder Boulder at 4 years old. My wife and I insisted that he had to do it all himself and, though he pitched a few temper tantrums on the course, parental comforting and bribery worked. He completed it on his own.
Twenty-three years and a lot of races later, Colin ran his first marathon. However, this marathon was the third leg of an Ironman race. As he said on his Facebook page that morning, "I'm running my first marathon today and, for a warm-up, I'm swimming 2.4 miles and biking 112 miles." Only someone who grew up in Boulder could think that way.
Last year, he spent a "training day" running the Denver Marathon. At the end of the race, the first thing he told me was, "Dad, I qualified for the Boston Marathon. Wanna go?"
I sure did.
The Boston Marathon has been a celebrated American institution for a long, long time, and I have always been in awe of people who could run for 26.2 miles at a pace I would have trouble maintaining for 26.2 yards. While I've been an avid jogger, I never seriously considered running a marathon, much less running fast enough to qualify for Boston.
But, there are many reasons to have children and, in my case, it turns out that one of them was to get me to the Boston Marathon. So, last Friday, Colin, his wife, son, mom and I headed off to Boston.
We stayed a few blocks from the finish line and spent the two days before the race celebrating America by exploring a remarkable historic city. We saw and tasted the roots of the American Revolution, even going by a Tea Party rally at the State Capitol where we sensed that the feisty revolutionary spirit was alive and well today. Of course, we ate lobster, which my 2-year old grandson branded as a "big bug." It was glorious.
Marathon Monday, as Bostonians call it, started out with clear skies and warming temperatures. I joined Colin as he walked to catch the 6:30 a.m. buses that would take 25,000 runners to the start line. The bus lines were long and full of excited runners from all corners of America and the world. As I had hoped, the buzz was contagious. It was a perfect day for a marathon.
As Colin was running, the rest of us found a comfortable spot to watch the race about a quarter mile from the finish where we made friends with other spectators supporting their friends and families. We watched wheelchair racers come in first along with soldiers who had walked the course overnight with full packs. Not much later, the men and women elite racers came by including the first three men separated by only a few seconds. Soon, the course was filled with the great athletes who can finish a marathon in under 3 hours. Colin whizzed by us at 2:46 into the race to finish a few minutes later. A great race, a great American institution, and we were part of it. Truly, life does not get any better than at that moment.
We headed to have lunch before going back to the finish area to watch runners come in, and we all know what happened next. As we were eating, we noticed the crowds forming around the television and saw Colin's face go white. He had received the news of the explosions on his iPhone a moment before. As instructed, we went back to the hotel and watched the horror show on television along with the rest of America. The area around the finish line turned into a crime scene, so there was little to do but contemplate the meaning of the ambulances, police cars, and military vehicles that were racing by. In the words of Massachusetts' governor, it was a horrific scene.
But, terrorists only win if they terrorize. The next morning, we spent several hours walking the Boston streets that weren't closed. While the mood was subdued and the police omnipresent, Boston was alive. Businesses were open, the parks were full of parents pushing children in strollers, and Boston was recovering.
Our hearts go out to the victims of this evil act and may justice prevail. But, this year's Boston Marathon was, to me, not just a chance to witness extraordinary athletes. They had to share the stage with the immutable American spirit that was, once again, on full display.
