2008 Boston Marathon from a runner's perspective

Nearly 22,000 people finished the 112th Boston Marathon on Patriots Day 2008. None of them saw Robert K. Cheruiyot make the final turn onto Boylston and cross the finish line at a time of 2:07.46. They didn't need to. Many of the runners had to qualify for the Boston Marathon by running a specific time. Just running the 26.2 miles from Hopkinton to Boston is enough for them. I would know. I was one of those 21,963 runners to make it over the rolling hills of eastern Massachusetts.

Pre-race

Remember waking up early during the holidays seeing what you got from Santa Claus? You knew you had something big under the tree, but you had to wait for your parents to come down. Sadly, that's the one day they had too much eggnog the night before and slept in later than usual. That's Hopkinton. A caravan of buses took us from Boston Common to the grounds of Hopkinton High School, home of the mighty Hillers. I don't know what a hiller is, but it was on their baseball fields where thousands of runners waited … and waited … and waited. My iPod, a textbook, a Thomas the Tank Engine and a full bladder were the only things that helped pass the two hours of waiting before our time would come.

The race

After seven months of waiting and training and two hours waiting in a runner's Woodstock, the gun was shot and a field of 25,283 runners headed down the rolling hills of Hopkinton. The elite shot forward, but most shuffled their feet because of the thousands in front of them. Instead of being boring and insightful by going mile-by-mile, let me put different parts of the race into perspective for your reading pleasure: For all of you who love gossip and are sick of reading this column already, I'll save you some time. Lance Armstrong finished in 2:50:58 and no, I didn't see him. On the way to Boston, runners go through seven towns: Hopkinton, Ashland, Framingham, Natick, Wellesley, Newton and Brookline. People were packed on both sides of the roads cheering on thousands of runners, most of which they didn't even know. It's a little overwhelming as you run through these towns. It's because you know you have thousands of people watching you accomplish something great and they are spending their day off cheering for you. I think they just crave fit men and women drooling, spilling, sneezing, coughing and puking on themselves. Want proof that some runners are vain? Most of the marathoners look at the windows of Al's Shoe Shop in Framingham to check their form. I checked to see who the idiot was who tripped me back in Ashland at a water stop. The Boston Marathon is a 26.2-mile tailgate party for many of the spectators on the course. There's nothing like seeing someone taking a bite out of a brat when you're sucking down an energy gel that tastes like strawberries and snot. My favorite moment other than finishing was running by Wellesley College. This all-girls institution screams throughout the entire race, forming a screech tunnel. They all want to lose their voice, cheer on the runners and get kissed by sweaty marathoners. It's a win-win for all the guys running it. The single guys can get some action and the involved guys can say they turned down hundreds of women and then brag about how loyal they are. The town of Newton is where a lot of runners hit the wall, the emotional point in the race where marathoners don't want to run anymore. Ironically, this is where all the tough hills are located. Let this commentary be an open statement to the town of Newton: I hate you and your damned hills. P.S. Your citizens serve up a mean orange slice. In the end, I finished with a time of 3:04.33. A personal record even though more than 1,600 people kicked my butt. But who cares? The Boston Marathon is a runner's Super Bowl, World Series and National Championship all wrapped in one shiny space blanket with a Gatorade chaser. It's honor just to be in Boston, a proclaimed Mecca of running in the United States. The final 600 yards on Boylston is the greatest feeling most runners will ever feel in their lifetime if they choose never to run it in again. I, however, will look at my medal and wonder when I'll be back and what my time will be then.