It’s a bit surreal being back in Boston as I have a history here besides the marathon. Years ago it was almost home, although I never really loved the town. Loved the girl, but not the town. And now it’s something of an awkward self fulfilling prophesy of dislike, I guess. While walking around yesterday I was in the crosswalk walking WITH an illuminated white walking man sign, and a turning driver honked aggressively telling me to get out of the way. That could have happened to me in any town, in any place, anywhere (and has). But I muttered under my breath as I carried on in my legal crosswalking, “Massholes. This town and all its Massholes.” “Massholes” being the passive aggressive local term of endearment for typically aggressive drivers in this part of the world. The incident reminded me why I’m not by and large a huge Boston fan… and prompted me to snap this photo of one of their manhole covers as an over-the-top commentary:
Editor’s Note: Let me clarify – there’s a lot of good in Boston and some wonderful people (more on this in a moment). But it’s so darn cold. And I’m a grouch sometimes. So take some of this with a grain of I know this is hyperbolic “Kevin-hole-ness” which is a passive-aggressive phrasing to describe me. I don’t like the defense of “I was just kidding…” but in this case I kinda am just kidding to an excessive degree to try and make a point. There’s some seriously bad driving in this town… and did I mention it’s cold? It’s gonna snow tomorrow. On April 15th.
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Yesterday I went to the Seaport Convention Center to pick up my race number.
Last year we were someplace else with expo rooms leading to more expo rooms and it all felt sprawlingly overcrowded and overwhelming. This year was a more contained layout in a spacious hanger type hall, though just as overwhelmingly crowded for this introvert wall flower.
I bumped into major sponsor MarathonTours and said some hellos. I also ran into one of my Mainly Marathon friends; she was working the info desk and I was reminded that the running family is legion and though there may be a lot of folks coming and going, you’re bound to run into some one you know… sometimes especially at the big races.
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I had dinner with Meg, Julie, and Aimee, three great women I hadn’t seen in far too long. I caught up with them, hearing stories of their lives and was reminded of how life carries on even when we’re not looking. That’s a self-centered viewpoint, as if when I left Boston in January 2015 life here would be frozen in place. Only in one’s memory. Only in one’s memory.
I remembered at least to try and snap a group shot before parting ways once more. I didn’t love my selfie attempt but the one we asked the hostess to take was even worse… so here’s what I call Three Women and a CryBaby.
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This morning I’m running the BAA 5K in the backbay of Boston. It’s a good dry run as well for getting to the buses on Monday morning.
It’s also a dry run as there’s no rain, it’s a brisk morning, and the sun is shining. This is going to be a marked difference from the snow (!!) tomorrow and the colder, wetter temperatures of Marathon Monday.
So I’m trying to enjoy the day in Boston.
I bumped into some Mainly Marathon friends while waiting in my corral.
We split up before the start as they said I was much too fast for them… but as the air horn sounded intermittently in “pulse” wave starts for groups of folks to start running, it became increasingly clear not everyone was conscientious in accurately self-seeding their pace. A lot of ducking and weaving around folks walking in the 7-7:59 “pulse” I found myself in.
And considering the record set last year was something just over 13 minutes for the 5K, one would expect there to be a lot of speedy folks floating about. Not that I was looking for a share of the $40,000 prize monies but I didn’t want to be tripped or trip up anyone either.
There were a few bottlenecks amidst the 3.1 mile out and back to boot.
But it’s always a thrill running through the Boston Finish Line… even when it’s 0.75 miles from our 5K finish.
The actual finish line was back at Boston Common, back where we began.
I had brought street clothes for before and after the race so availed myself of the bag check. The 45 minute post-race line to reclaim my stuff reminded me why I try never to use that service at races. They had just crammed 10,000 bags for 10,000 runners in too small a space. I wasn’t alone in grumbling about the process; I’m not sure what’s a good way to do this but I know this wasn’t the best way. Boston Common is an expansive space; two or three tents to space out the bags wouldn’t have been too difficult to manage.
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Having grabbed my stuff, I opted to hit a few tourist attractions BC adjacent. The famed exterior for Cheers… and now a theme bar… is here. I posted to Instagram that I was actually much more sad to see Melville’s, the restaurant upstairs from where everybody knows your name, was closed.
And as I’m wont to do, I made a pilgrimage to check on the Make Way For Ducklings art installation on Boston Public Garden. I thought they’d be dressed for the marathon but they were still in their Easter bonnet best.
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As a lunch treat, I stopped at Dumpling Palace, a place Steve has taken me a few times. It’s a nice Boston tradition but they would’ve been better with my brother here to share them.
Tomorrow’s forecast means I probably won’t be venturing out too far. I had planned on going to the runners’ free pasta dinner downtown tomorrow but not if it’s 33 degrees and sleeting.
On the plus side, I’m having dinner with Alexis tonight so I can catch up with her at least.
This trip has been all about meeting and eating. But that’s not a bad way to spend a few days in Boston, waiting to run 26.2 miles, from Hopkinton to Boylston.
To be continued….