Triumph at the Boston Marathon

There are many marathons in our lives. Some we run and some we watch. 

Her Favorite Day of the Year

Natasha lives in Boston. Calling it her favorite day of the year, she was primed to watch it. Mary Grace lives in New Jersey. Having qualified and trained, she was primed to run it.

They are cousins. They are my nieces. This year’s Boston Marathon was extra special for our family.

Natasha was marking two years from receiving a rare cancer diagnosis and one year post-treatment. She looked forward to supporting the healthcare organizations and dedicated professionals who had taken care of her and would be participating in the marathon.

Mary Grace was running the race in honor of Natasha having come through her own grueling marathon of intense treatment. To raise awareness of this type of cancer, she would wear a Sarcoma Foundation of America T-shirt, representing the organization where Natasha now works.

Making the theme of resilience all the more poignant is the fact that Natasha was within a mile of the finish line on the day of the 2013 bombing. Her experience of Boston Strong is very real.

Cousins at the Café, day before the race: Natasha (left) & Mary Grace (right)

A Café Conversation

The day before the marathon we gathered in a café for lunch. “I don’t know if I’ve ever run a mile,” I confessed. Along with the other faces around the table, my niece Annie’s eyes conveyed the is-she-serious-or-joking question. This caused me to backpedal. “Oh, I’m sure I’ve run a mile before. I must have, right?” Unable to convince myself or anyone else, we concluded that gym class had done me a disservice. (What exactly did I do in gym class?) Not surprisingly, this would be the first marathon I attended.

We peppered Mary Grace with questions about how she prepares for the race and she patiently answered each one. She told us about her training program that alternated short runs, long runs and days of rest. The carb-loading dinner she would have that night sounded good to us and was the one part of the training that I could picture myself doing. Then there were day-of-race strategies such as consuming energy gels and looking out for us at particular mile-markers. We learned that Mary Grace maps out each mile in her mind and tags it for someone. Offering the mile as a prayer for that person aids her motivation to push through.

Intellectually I understood why Mary Grace loves running marathons and why Natasha loves watching them, but on the following day I would not only understand it, I would feel it.

As We Watched

We stationed ourselves at mile 24, a point where runners need encouragement to press on. As we found our spot at the sideline, we felt the electricity in the air and it was more than just excitement for a sporting event. The level of emotion was evident all around us and deeply moving from the start.

Natasha beamed, “Wait until you see them!” She informed us that first we’d see “the elites” who are the Pro Athletes. About an hour after that would be waves of serious runners (including Mary Grace) and later, the people running on behalf of charities, followed by many individual runners including first-time marathoners.

The crowd erupted as clusters of elite runners appeared: a quick whoosh of lean and sculpted bodies taking one fluid stride into the next. Their focus was fixed, our cheers and faces a blended background.

I fantasized for a brief moment. Wouldn’t it be great to do it? Just as quickly, I laughed at myself and returned to reality. Oh yeah, I’ve never run a mile. Only for a minute did I wish to be a participant because on this day, there was tremendous joy in being a spectator.

While waiting for Mary Grace, we joined with others to enthusiastically acknowledge runners from the military, police, fire and emergency services. We were amazed and inspired by the Para Athletes in all categories: Wheelchair Division, Para Athletics, Guide & Support Runners, Adaptive Runners, Handcycle and Duo Teams. They were awesome and left us speechless.

Our impromptu sign made of foam-core poster board had messages on both sides: one for Mary Grace and the other for Natasha’s medical team at Mass General.

As 2:00 p.m. approached, we started imagining Mary Grace: Here she comes! Here she comes! Wait, that’s not her. Stop saying “Here she comes!”

Finally it was the moment and Natasha shouted her cousin’s name. As Mary Grace strode by, she turned her head and threw kisses with her arms outstretched. Our hearts were overflowing. Truly, I didn’t think they could take much more, but it didn’t stop there.

Mary Grace at Mile 24

Natasha turned to me and asked, “You don’t want to leave any time soon, do you?”

She flipped the sign around to the other side.

Now directed to Mass General the message read:

THANK YOU.
MGH Saved My Life.

And another panel:

Chemo was my marathon.
You got this.

As we did for MGH, we gave shout-outs to every other medical group that came by. Whether on a healthcare team or running solo, any runner looking battered or discouraged received sideline coaching from Natasha:

It’s okay, re-set.
Get your head together.
Keep going.
You got this.

Random runners shaped their hands into hearts, picked up their pace, tapped their chest then tapped Natasha’s sign. Runners pointed at Tasha with a “You, go girl,” and she pointed back to them, her eyes holding tears of mixed emotions.

Tasha offering encouragement from the sidelines

One of the nurses from Tasha’s inpatient oncology floor at MGH-Ellison 16

Mary Grace at the finish

We clapped, cheered and jumped up and down. For friends, for strangers. For accomplished runners, for amateurs. For those who still looked fresh at mile 24 and for those who were cramping and walking awkwardly. Our tears of heartfelt emotion flowed from the first runner to the last.

As the dinner hour arrived, Natasha acknowledged reluctantly that it was time to go. “I hate leaving now. They’re the ones who need us.”

The Joy of Spectating

The athleticism was only part of it. What elevated the experience was sharing an event in which two people close to me love participating.

As a spectator I was able to witness:

One niece’s heart full, running with purpose in solidarity with her cousin and with the others she held in mind.

Another niece’s heart full, cheering her head off for every single runner and especially for her cousin and medical team.

Runners who slipped by quietly.
Runners who initiated cheering, requesting the lift they needed.

The elite, looking victorious.
The fatigued, on the verge of collapse.

Beauty in all the runners, each with different bodies and abilities, each with their own definition of triumphant.

On that Patriots’ Day in Boston, the city was a lovefest. That’s the word we agreed best described the feeling of the marathon: Lovefest. Not to be saccharine, but because it defined something very real: Love is always flowing. Indiscriminate love. The kind that causes people to support strangers with sincerity, to embrace each other and to remember there is goodness in the world.

The bad stuff is always happening. We must remind each other, however, that there are good things happening, too:

My friend volunteers in a food pantry with a woman in her 90s who still offers her time to serve those in need;

Another friend who is a retired priest continues to have a heart for those in prison and regularly spends time with them listening deeply;

A granddaughter and her husband left their home in D.C. and moved to Florida to be with and care for my neighbor.

Examples of people supporting others through their own marathons are everywhere. When I relayed my experience of the Boston Marathon to one friend she said, “Thank you for telling me this. It gives me hope.”

When we see the good, we must celebrate it in order to take it in fully. It refuels us and helps us keep going, with resolve and with lifted spirits.

A Familiar Metaphor for a Good Reason

What are the marathons in your life? Some we run and some we watch. As we endure what is difficult, we can offer each mile as a prayer for one person and for all humanity. As we encourage and support others, we are ourselves uplifted.

At one point during the day, I had a thought that made me smile: When it’s time to leave this earth, wouldn’t it be great for that to be a marathon moment, where we get to slap the hands of everyone along the sidelines: the ones who helped us in the past, who are cheering us on now and the ones who are waiting for us as we come through the finish?

That’s the image my mind conjured for a brief moment. For now, it’s back to the current race. Let us encourage each other to keep going as we move our own feet forward. We’ve got this.

Notes:

1. Natasha is currently training to participate in the Falmouth Road Race and is fundraising for Team Eye & Ear.
2. In a piece published earlier this year entitled The Chapel of the Road, Mary Grace describes running as a “place of prayer.”