There once was a time when I would wake up on Marathon Monday to my roommates mixing margaritas in the kitchen, messing it up, and ditching the mix for straight tequila…at 8 a.m. The day would be spent playing Beer Pong, doing shots and dancing to Kelly Clarkson and Shakira. Passing out at 1 p.m. was always expected, but so was rallying an hour later.
So you can imagine my disappointment when I found out I had to work (work?!?! seriously?!?!?) this year during the Marathon. As I left my apartment for the T at 8 a.m., I nearly called in sick in order to follow the 30-or-so 20-year-olds cramming into the rundown BC house down the block from me. I also almost stepped in throw-up a block later, but that couldn’t take me out of my memory cloud. Me and the other two people making our way downtown on the C-line Monday morning were clearly reflecting back to our college days.
But you know what I found out today? Adults actually do Marathon Monday pretty well.
Since I work on Arlington Street, right outside of Copley Square, I took my lunch hour (and maybe a little longer? shhhh!) to walk down to the Marathon finish line, a first time in my six years living in Boston. All I can say is IN-tense. I could have almost lost it walking back and forth on Stuart Street, trying to find the best way to Boylston, but everyone was in such a great mood, cheering loudly and enjoying themselves, that I really couldn’t get mad at the crowds. There was one woman – who was actually shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue – that I wanted to punch for being so oblivious as to what was going on around her, but let’s not ruin the moment.
Standing along the final mile of the Boston Marathon is one of the coolest things I have ever done. Side by side with my cousin, Lori, who’s husband Rob was running for the first time in Boston, was an experience I will always cherish. People were dragging. People were running on straight adrenaline. One guy ran a good 15 feet before realizing he just passed his wife and ran back to give her a hug. At least, I think it was his wife. He could have had women all along the route for all I know. But I want to believe it was a tender moment.
We missed Rob and his friend Kris pass us in the sea of people, but I did run into them near the friends and family section, both wearing their medals proudly. Chris came in at about 3:01 and Rob finished in 3:11. I can’t run one mile without passing out, so needless to say I am uber-impressed.
After work, I met the crew downtown for some beers, sitting outside at Faneuil Hall. The sun was shining, and fellow runners met eyes and greeted each other with a congratulations. I know that I may be getting sappy at this point, but Marathon Monday 2010 really gave me a greater appreciation for Boston. I forgot (or maybe never really realized) what a cool city it is.
One dive bar and one pizza later, it was time to call it a night. I can’t believe Rob was (maybe is?) still standing. Probably running on sheer happiness. Quote of the night: pigs get fat and hogs get slaughtered. See? I told you it would make the blog.
Making my way back to my apartment, thinking about what a great day it was, the scattered solo cups and caution tape reminded me of my reminiscing from the morning. A girl in a pink boa, crying and eating Pino’s pizza at the same time, scared me back to reality – maybe at 26, it’s time to put the old Marathon Monday behind me. I will say thank you to the guy who flashed me as he peed in the middle of Sutherland Road, however. Marathon Monday without a penis shot just doesn’t seem quite right.