RUNNING THE BOSTON MARATHON (BUT WITHOUT A JELLY ROLL)

JANUARY 11, 2022 – Today I begin a marathon for which I haven’t trained because I hadn’t anticipated that I’d be forced to run it. Only vicariously do I know its route and perils, its challenges and topography.

“Back in the day,” as it is said, I ran actual marathons. They were made for a guy like me—so OCD I’d have been willing to drop dead (like Pheidippides), if only I could run a sub-2:30:00 race, shouting (like the ancient Athenian), “Victory is [Mine]!” at the finish line. For me and the like-minded, short of the Olympic Marathon, Boston was the Holy Grail. After qualifying for it in the fall of 1977, I went all-out in winter training.  I was a maniac.

At the time, I was in law school—more or less in theory—but my heart and mind were focused exclusively on running, and when I wasn’t running, I was reading about running and eating for it.

When the Big Day approached, I discovered that two other people from my hometown of Anoka, Minnesota were running Boston too. One of them I knew—“Doc” Andberg, a world famous masters champion (see my 8/13/2019 post). The other guy, “Gary”—I don’t remember his last name—was a stranger to me. By some means (without mobile phones), we linked up in Hopkinton prior to race time. As usual, sinewy “Doc” was laconic and to conserve energy, moved with dignified economy. “Gary,” who clearly was much newer to marathoning, had the build . . . and the mouth . . . of a non-runner. To my astonishment, while we waited, he produced a white, greasy, bakery bag, removed a huge jelly roll and offered to share it with Doc and me. We declined. Confounding me was how “Gary” had managed to qualify for the Holy Grail. My principal goal of a PR was coupled with a new goal: finish as far as possible ahead of him.

In the event, I achieved both goals.

I went on to run a dozen more marathons, along with many 10K and 10-mile races. Later, I transferred my “OCD” reserves to cross-country skiing. I was “all-in,” when it came to running and skiing; “all-out,” when it came to what I should have been doing: paying attention in law.

Eventually, the energy I’d committed to running and skiing was diverted to more constructive pursuits. I mellowed. “Doc,” a marathon x-c skier, as well as long-distance runner, lived to the long age of 96. I soon lost track of “Gary,” however—except for the full-page spread about him in Boston (with honorable mention of “Doc” and reference to me) that he’d managed to orchestrate through a contact at the local newspaper.

Not in ages have I thought about that Boston Marathon 45 years ago. Now I must think about it to summon what will and courage I can. But no jelly roll. My goal is to finish the looming race as “Doc” ran all of his marathons—like the steady, dignified champion he was.

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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson