When I first made my reservations, I thought there wasn’t a chance the expo would be open on Easter Sunday so flew in Saturday morning to make sureI could get my bib. Turns out the Expo was one of the few things open on Easter Sunday…
So I probably spent an extra day in Boston for no reason. Well, there were reasons, but coming back to that town after all these years was a surreal experience. I tried to just ignore some of the elephants in the room… what’s a pack of elephants called?
A pack of Derms?
(HA! HA! HA!)
With the recent uptick in Covid cases in the Northeast, I would have hoped folks might be a bit more willing to deal with an ounce of prevention to avoid a pound of pain. Nobody likes wearing masks but we do it to try and help those that are immunocompromised or, hell, just anybody in the hopes of preventing a highly transmissible variant of a disease. We all may be done with the pandemic but it’s not done with us. I’m from Florida so I know the weird militant politicalization of right wing red meat hate mongering and bullying… so maybe I shouldn’t have been so surprised by the lackadaisical mask wearing. By the end of the trip, an activist judge appointed by Trump struck down the mask mandate on mass transit based not on science but on politics… leading to even more confusion and “Don’t Mask, Don’t Tell” hardliners. Me? I wear a mask indoors and when I’m around a lot of people just to try and err on the side of caution. I don’t love it, but it’s what I do to try and be a decent member of society. In Boston I noticed more people wearing masks OUTDOORS than inside buildings which felt counter intuitive and counter productive. But what do I know?
As for the run, I put a lot of faith and hope and pixie dust (aka Aleve) in the steroid shot to my foot…I don’t know if there were several neuromas and we only got one of them with the shot or if psychologically I had expected everything to run smoothly thereafter and was bummed it didn’t… but after about 8 miles of running my left foot hurt perhaps more than ever before on a run. I got a few extra miles in pain free but thereafter it was non-stop sensations of cement knots on my foot and sharp needles sticking into my toes. I actually gave serious consideration to dropping out, something I rarely if ever do on a run. Boston pride and true blue stupid grit got me through it… and a fair bit of walking.
The good news is that I felt fine after finishing and walking to the subway (which I was lectured by a Bostonian race official they don’t call the subway or metro in Beantown — it’s the T. I said at least I had my Charlie Card and he fist bumped me). So less running, more walking for the next few days while I reach out to my doctor to see what else we can do.
So that’s the quick medical recap… who cares about that stuff, am I right? Let’s go to the photos for the real reflections on the race weekend….
Reflections on the 126th Boston Marathon
This is not Marina Del Rey, CA…
The 126th Boston Marathon Expo! [Note: I’m not sure WHEN they started offering an expo — this isn’t the 126th expo for example… and in 2020 there wasn’t ANY thanks to the pandemic).
The expo lines… taking a page from Disney, there was a line outside which led to another line inside…
Perhaps not surprising given the number of runners…
And I’m one of them!
Years ago I completed the Six Majors (soon to be seven… and beyond)
But there’s my name, forever on a wall. While it’s fun to see, it’s also a little creepy.
Say, I wonder how long this Mass Avenue Bridge is?
Oh, it’s THIS many Smoots long. Link: https://www.wbur.org/radioboston/2016/05/06/ollie-smoot-the-official-unit-of-measure-for-the-harvard-bridge
The Boston Burger Company’s Adult Beverages — the How Do You Like Them Apples was intriguing… but I went with a glass of wine…
Oh, and the HOT MESS burger, as seen on the Rachael Ray Show.
Credit where credit is due — The Boston She Party is a great pun name.
After a glorious afternoon, the weather turned awful…
This is the Boston I remember.
On Easter Sunday, I wandered back downtown to kill some time at the Runner Festivities. But this is ALSO the Boston I remember — they’re over-signage sometimes sends mixed messages, as in seemingly fining pedestrians IN the crosswalk and thus encouraging jaywalking?
I’m told this is VERY Cambridge… but honestly, a take a poem, leave a poem mailbox seems kinda nice to me. “Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, I smell Bacon.”
There may be no standing… but sitting? There ain’t no rule that says no sitting!
Speaking of signs… if your town has so many snow emergencies you have to have permanent signs made up, you might as well have one that says, “Say… this town may not be for you.”
So this is halfway across the Smoot measured Mass Ave bridge. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what it meant — it wasn’t 333 smooth, or anything. Turns out when the bridge was built there was a safety net suspended under the bridge… which saved the lives of 19 construction workers who became known as the “Half Way To Hell Club.” Or so Google says. But can we believe ANYTHING on the internet anymore?
Here there be dragons… well, alligators. Ya know, the ones flushed down the toilet and years later come back to prey on people? It’s true. I read it on the internet.
A preview of the finish line.
I’ll be back here again soon.
So Marathon Sports had a pop-up sidewalk offering nearby…
This unicorn was an overpriced $18…
And while I appreciate the shirt honoring the women of Boston (it’s the 50th anniversary of women running the event), I can’t help but think they blew the marketing opportunity. It should’ve read: “Katherine & Joanie & Uta & Kara & Shalane & Des & Me.” I’m not saying I’m a marketing genius, but I AM saying Don Draper and I have never been in the same room together… so you do the math.
When I first walked past this banner I thought it said, “OLD SCHOOL PRESCHOOL.” I wondered what that meant — more rulers hitting knuckles?
Bless me, religious folks, for I have blasphemed…
So Boston wants to thank us for running with them… and to do so, they want us to pay $35 for the privilege of being thanked?
Well, I’m ahead of the tortoise so I should have this in the bag…
As part of a Poland Springs pop up sponsor stand, they were doing free caricatures. This was my artist and his work… I was hoping he’d put himself in the reflection of my sunglasses, a la Escher and his ball. But I did have him sign it.
I’m not sure it looks like me…
Looks kinda like the guy behind me here…
Cool.
A weird memorial to Killing Eve’s Villanelle.
What the Duck? No, this time I do mean duck. Make Way for Ducklings statues!
I walked in, it was so crowded with tourists I couldn’t get a seat. I said to the staff, “Do You Know Who I Am?!” And they said, “Yes. That’s why we’re not serving you.”
That’s fair.
The Longfellow Bridge… it’s long, fella.
Ok… I’m no STEM savant… but I DO know my shapes… and that’s not a square.
Ball of fire.
One way? Man, what a nightmare…
I’m not sure what’s sadder… this Valentine’s Day balloon stuck here bobbing in the wind in April… or that it was gone the next day I walked past. I was there I guess the day the balloon died.
This is the way.
The mystery of where to eat on Easter Sunday when so many places are closed? Rosebud.
A classic Davis Square spot.
You should have the Lunch Car cocktail. I had two.
On my way back to the AirBNB, I couldn’t believe an actual crowd at a movie theater. It’s a killer marquee though.
The morning of the race… and my AirBNB has a perfect wall art collection.
Boston Common
I was in the White Bib Wave 2, Corral 1… so having arrived at 7:15 I wasn’t allowed to board until 7:30. Wandered around to grab a cold one.
Seriously… WHAT. THE. DUCK!
Important tip.
Bus Loading
Lines, lines, and more lines…
And after a long ride, Athletes Village
A crowded Athlete’s Village.
But this is where it all starts.
And from here… it’s 26.2 miles to Boston!
Headed to the starting corrals, long after the chairs, elites, and Red Bib wave.
I’m gonna need it!
The last portajohns before the start line. Chaos.
I bought this UNC sweatshirt but it was so short I knew I’d never wear it… thus, I wore it to keep the wind chill in check before the race. Now, it’s off to a person who needs it more than I do. Go Heels.
Crowds waiting to run.
The gathering at the starting line…
Wait — I know that sign… so was my sign a fake sign?
Officer Phil getting ready to fire the starting pistol.
I wore a mask/bandana until we started.
Probably unnecessary and foolish — we were all running together, breathing heavily and covid is mainly transmitted that way so… I’ll be testing later.
Ashland!
3 miles in!
I appreciated this place’s sign honoring 50 years of women running Boston.
Somewhere in here, I could feel my foot starting to bug me… but I always try and fake it for the photos.
Six, ah, ah, ah!
Still going…
Shoot, I meant to send this photo…
You could hear the tunnel of screams from here.
I opted to high five when I could…
Kissing just wasn’t ideal in a pandemic. I thought about elbow bumping for a selfie but by this point I was worried if I stopped my foot would implode.
HALFWAY TO HELL? I was hurting big time…
…but faking it ‘cuz I’m making it
Pounding the miles…
Passing the markers…
Headed to the Hill…
Lots of walking here on my part…
…even here…
Fake smile, true relief.
35K and doing not so okay…
This intersection was where my brother used to live and I took a selfie with him and Alexis a few years back.
That was his “penthouse” way back when.
Ouch, ouch, ouch. That’s what I was thinking at this point.
Ouch, ouch, ouch… 2.2 to go… ouch, ouch… that’s what I was thinking here.
When you see the CitGo sign…
…you know you’re getting close…
But Big Whoop, amiright?!
Ha, ha, ha!
Right On Hereford, Left On Boylston…
Ouch, ouch, ouch, OUCH…
…but YAY!
Finisher selfie!
Whilst walking out of the finish…
…a guy next to me said, “now we all look alike.”
And I said, “yeah, we’re all Boston Marathoners.” I hope he appreciated the sentiment.
Ice cream for lunch. Because that’s how I roll.
I met some old Cali Ex-Pats for dinner to celebrate. I opted for the Penicillin…
Which my server said if I got mixed with well liquor they call “The Amoxycillin.”
Adam, Aimee, me, and Meg… we used to be friends before the world ended in Y2K. I’m pretty sure since then we’ve all been living in a psych experiment simulation wherein somebody says, “hey — what next awful thing can we throw at the world to see what happens?”
What can I say? I’m a smartie… or I guess I’m… WICKED SMAAHT!
And that, folks, is the Finish of the Reflections.
