Running the Boston Marathon
Rick Brown

I used to run…a lot. I've finished nine marathons…all in under 4 hours. The tenth has…and now always will…elude me. Ironically, an old high school gym class knee injury ended my running career. I have no regrets. I ran the Cleveland Marathon, Columbus, New York (on my 35th birthday) and Boston. The Boston Marathon is America's oldest, most prestigious race. You have to qualify for it. It's the only marathon in the U.S. that requires qualification. Sure, lot's of people run it as "bandits"…runners who show up and basically run it illegally. But in 1992 I qualified at the Columbus Marathon by finishing with a respectable 3 hours and 17 minutes. The year before I missed qualifying by 30 seconds. It might as well have been 30 minutes. So this is an accomplishment I am still very proud of.

Training for the Boston Marathon is a little different than most. It's always on Patriot's Day…a state holiday in Massachusetts. Patriot's Day is on a Monday in April…usually around the 15th. Almost everyone has the day off and the crowds are big. People with homes along the route have HUGE parties. So…like New York…there are almost no stretches where aren't literally hundreds of happy partiers cheering you on. But the training…which must be started right after the December holidays…can be a very lonely experience. When you train for an autumn marathon…which most of them are…lots of people are out and about. There are other runners to wave to…pretty girls to smile at. But in the darkness of January this is hardly the case. Other than the Dick's Den Marathon in early March …which isn't a marathon at all …there is nothing social about the training part of running Boston.

So I worked hard to get myself into shape for the 1993 Boston Marathon. Anyone who was around me at this point in time knew how excited I was to be involved in this. The day finally arrived for my wife Yvonne and I to leave for New England. Unfortunately, after 16 weeks of rigorous training I awoke at 5 a.m. with a terrible sinus infection and sore throat. But…hey…the show must go on. The two of us got to the airport at 6 and our flight took off at 7. Now I don't like to fly anyway…but this flight was …hell. We had to fly to D.C and change planes. That means taking off and landing (my favorite parts of flying) not once…but 2X. We got to D.C. okay but the weather was way nasty on the way to Bean Town. I felt lousy enough already but now my ears were popping like Orville Reddenbacher's best and I was severely nauseated. Anyway…we get to the Boston area and there's a HUGE thunderstorm going on. The plane is going up and down and up and down and up and down. The pilot comes on the radio and tells us we have to wait to land. So there we are in a big rainstorm circling Boston going up and down up and down up and down waiting for my favorite travel experience…landing. This went on for at least 20 minutes. I'm getting sicker and sicker and I'm thinking to myself…very loudly…LAND THE FUCKING PLANE!!!

Just then I look over at Yvonne and she's SPEWING her breakfast (in a very discreet, feminine way of course) into her convenient barf bag. Fortunately we had eaten a light breakfast of fruit…and it struck me just then how quickly the digestive system breaks down such gentle fare. Consequently, there was little…if any…stench. Had there been … a stench I mean … I believe everyone on the entire plane would have been heaving all over the place.

Finally the plane lands after what seemed to be an eternity, we get our luggage, and pile into the nearest cab. Fifteen dollars later we're in the hotel lobby being told our room won't be ready until after 2 p.m. (It's 11 a.m.) So for a small $2 fee the bellman watched our belongings while we headed off for Marathon Headquarters for my official number and stuff.

By now it's stopped raining but it's extremely chilly. The two of us pretty much hung out until early afternoon when we were scheduled for a bus tour of the racecourse. We had a good time (for two sick folks) meeting people from all over while waiting for the bus. It finally came…we climbed aboard…and we headed out for Hopkington. (Unlike most marathon courses the wander around downtown Boston starts in a small town and you run into the city. Only the last two miles are actually in the city of Boston.) Well…it wasn't that easy. About a half an hour out the bus blew a fan belt. So it was cold outside yet inside the bus…the bus that only had ONE window that would open…it was a nice, cozy 800 degrees CELCIUS!! After the plane ride it was a delightful change to be sweating inside a broken down bus. About twenty minutes later the bus was repaired and we were back on the tour. I soon realized how much more difficult this marathon is going to be than any I've run previously. What the tour guide was describing as "inclines" would pass for a ski resort in Ohio.

Patriot's Day finally arrived and I took a school bus back out to Hopkington. While waiting to board I notice there's a runner dressed as Gumby. I thought …"Geez! I have to run TWO marathons to qualify…then train for this one…and some clown shows up dressed like friggin' Gumby. I assumed he was a "bandit". Surely he didn't qualify for the Boston Marathon in a Gumby suit … or did he?

We all get out to Hopkington where all of us runners spent a couple hours doing what marathon runners always do for two hours before a marathon…drink liquids and pee. Taking a leak is a big pre-race…during race…activity. And marathoners…especially the men…are not at all shy about this activity…or the least bit modest. Instead of waiting in long lines for the port o' potties I…along with about 6 other guys…had a delightful little chat with the local Presbyterian Minister…while we peed into the bushes in front of his church. He certainly took it in stride…as if this were an annual ritual that he quite enjoyed. (This triggered the memory of peeing off the Verrazano Bridge at the very start of the New York City Marathon in 1986.) I still was a bit under the weather but was determined to run as well as possible.

It was almost 70 degrees when the race began at noon. Since I had trained during the winter months it seemed that much warmer. But I took it real easy, drank lots of water and kept a steady pace. Crowds of people were everywhere! And these folks were really into it! Because of the temperature I saw people starting to walk as early as mile ten. By the halfway point (13.1 miles) I passed a lot of people who obviously started out too fast. At mile 14 I found myself in Wellesley … home of Wellesley College … which at the time was…and very well may still be…a woman's college. (Hillary Rodham Clinton's alma matter) I must have high-fived at least 100 screaming, exuberant college coeds. This made me feel substantially better.

Soon enough I was coming into the series of hills. This was very difficult yet when I crested the last of them…know affectionately as "Heartbreak Hill"…I knew I was going to finish. I headed down into the city of Boston…past Fenway Park…past the giant Citgo sign. Then…abruptly at mile 24 I had an inspiration. There…directly in front of me…about 20 yards ahead…was none other than…GUMBY!! Then…to add to my fervor I heard the chants of a crowd of drunken Boston College frat boys, "BEAT GUMBY! BEAT GUMBY! BEAT GUMBY!" I took a deep breath. "BEAT GUMBY! BEAT GUMBY!" All of a sudden my feet felt like rockets had been strapped to them. I looked down and I swear I saw smoke pouring out of the back of my shoes. "BEAT GUMBY! BEAT GUMBY! The chant was pounding in my brain. My feet were on fire! "BEAT GUMBY! BEAT GUMBY! BEAT GUMBY!" I blew by the green cartoon like he was standing still. "BEAT GUMBY! BEAT GUMBY!"

The last couple miles are a blur to me. I was gliding along so quickly I was oblivious to my feet hitting the pavement. "BEAT GUMBY! BEAT GUMBY!" I forgot about the miserable plane ride…the broken down "hell on wheels" of a bus trip…the sinus infection. After I finished the race…3 hours 46 minutes and 52 seconds. (not bad for 75 degree weather and mild illness) I stood at the finish line and waited for him. Gumby came in a paltry ten minutes behind me. I was elated! I qualified for the Boston Marathon! I ran and finished the Boston Marathon! And the frosting on the cake? I beat Gumby! I BEAT GUMBY! And DAMMIT! It felt good!