Classy move by the Big Sur International Marathon organizers to send out the local paper with great marathon coverage to runners. What a great experience.
For 2014, it gets worse. In 2012, the heat at Boston kept many runners from requalifying. In 2013 the weather was a little warm, but much closer to the ideal. Even though the race was forced to end early, most potential qualifiers were able to finish. More than 8,300 additional people qualified at Boston 2013 than at Boston 2012. If you assume the variations in the numbers for the other races even out, then almost 90 percent of Boston qualifiers for 2014 have already been run.
Alex and Jamie Schneider, autistic 22-year-old identical twins from Long Island, have completed more than 120 races, including five marathons, over the past seven years.
Two brothers who happen to be autistic both ran this year’s Boston. I hope they’ll be back next year to get the experience we all deserved.
Pictures from 2013 Big Sur Marathon.
Boston 2 Big Sur. What a great experience.
4:15am bus. Bagel and peanut butter, check. Gorgeous ocean views, double check.
This will be fun.
Yes, there’s an app for that.
Sub-21 hours til marathon #2, Big Sur. thinking that sub-21 may be a good goal to aim for, too.
This is the second half of the Asics Boston 2 Big Sur Challenge where 400 runners compete in both the Boston and Big Sur marathons.
Today will be a relaxing day wandering around, picking up bibs at the expo with an early dinner reservation on Fisherman’s Wharf Monterey. Busses are waaaay too early, at 3:30AM. Yikes.
Went back to the finish line tonight with my older brother. Moving experience.
Last Monday, 23,336 registered runners who had trained for months through a tough winter toed the starting line for the Boston Marathon on a beautiful spring New England morning to mark the 117th year of this storied and historic event.
At the same time, an estimated half a million spectators swarm the 26.2 miles from the small town of Hopkinton Massachusetts through Ashland, Framingham, Natick, Wellesley, Newton, Brookline, ending in what has become our nation’s city, Boston.
On this local holiday known as Patriots’ Day (marking the first battles of the American Revolution), these locals dig through their closets, throwing aside their winter parkas, gloves and snow hats in favor of spring jackets, Red Sox hats and their best voices to lend us runners a hand in reaching our goal of crossing the finish line on Boylston Street.
It was my first Boston. I had worked for a year and a half towards this moment. Others had worked even longer and harder, battling illness or significant injury or fundraising efforts. Some run for themselves, some for fallen comrades lost at war, others run in memory of loved ones young and old lost to disease. Many run to raise funds to stop support finding cures for those same diseases. Some run in costumes, others alongside disabled runners supporting them reach their lifelong goals.
But, above all, we are all runners.
17,580 of us finished and I’m fortunate to count myself as one of them. It should have been, and was for a brief period, a joyous and happy time filled with camaraderie and reflection, friends, family and celebration of all of our achievements…. a chance to celebrate the human spirit and reflect upon our shared accomplishments.
But then, panic and terror. One block from where I was - Loss of lives, of limbs from these very supporters who pushed us to that big blue line in the middle of Boylston Street marking the completion of our journey.
It’s not fair.
Early last week, I lost faith. Easy to do, I guess. Memories of the joy of the race were quickly erased and overshadowed with the events caused by the explosions - confusion, fear, sorrow.
All week I was glued to the TV, news websites, blogs and Twitter trying to understand more about what had happened, who had done this to us, to me.
I had trouble sleeping. I heard stories about friends of friends in the hospital with significant injuries. I cried. I had nightmares. I played the ‘what if’ game - What if I ran slower? What if we had gone to that one bar right where the second bomb went off? I questioned my actions in the immediate moments after the bombs went off - Should I have helped at the scene? Given blood? I wouldn’t wear my marathon shirt or jacket. For brief moments, I even blamed myself for being the reason friends and family were in that area - there to cheer me on and share this with me.
In the same days following the events, as the nation’s top investigative minds were busy narrowing in on identification and ultimate capture of the suspects, I too was busy. Busy gaining my faith back through hearing reports and stories of how selflessly first responders, medical professionals and marathon volunteers acted in the moments right after the bombs went off. These brave people are my fellow runners, the nurses and doctors in our hospitals that have cared for our families, the police, EMT’s and firemen in our towns, the same marathon volunteers that were so kind and helpful to me just an hour and a half before. These people are my neighbors. They are not scripted actors in the next Hollywood blockbuster. They are us.
Last week was a wild, violent and unpredictable series of events for our community. Our road towards healing will be long, winding and filled with ups and downs… not unlike those 26.2 miles of roads many of us traversed last Monday. Now, instead of numbering 23,336 - we are ALL runners, every single one of us that was affected by what happened last week. We’re just running a different kind of race.
I’d be lying if I told you the training was short and easy because it isn’t. Like anything worthwhile, it’s an effort. It can be long, painful and difficult.
But that finish line? That place where we’ll all be next April 21, 2014? It’s worth it.
Lace ‘em up. Let’s go for a run.
Candlelight vigil for Boston Marathon bombing victims.
The best.
This is from a Facebook post I wrote yesterday, upon arriving safely home from Boston after finishing the marathon. I’m reposting here because I feel it accurately captures the feeling of the moment.
I will choose to remember the good in today.
The help in the morning from my friend Greg navigating the somewhat overwhelming start. The scene of thousands of runners streaming through the streets of Hopkinton that first mile.
All the beautiful things about the Boston Marathon course itself: the crowds full of families and college kids cheering me on, the hills of Newton, the Citgo sign, the groups of soldiers humping it the whole way, Kenmore Square and that beautiful finish line on Boylston Street. Seeing my parents and little brother at the start of Heartbreak with a group of my friends and running club (and Jeff running with me for a moment!), my wild and crazy older brother and two cousins (one who came from Maryland! Love you, Sarah!) cheering like mad in Kenmore, followed by Priscilla and my friends from Maine shouting me in those final 0.2 miles to the finish.
My heart goes to the families affected by today’s tragedy and those runners who had their days ruined by such a senseless act.
