Nothing beats the experience of running the Boston Marathon, the oldest and most prestigious 42-kilometer race in the world. I was one of 27,000 runners who attempted to finish the tough, historic course held last April. Only 15 Filipinos ran the race this year. Nine of us flew in from the Philippines to participate, and joining was far from easy. Each of us had to either beat a challenging qualifying time or raise charity money in order to get in.
Everything about the race was exciting. In the plane en route, I met runners from different continents who were traveling just for the race. Arriving in downtown Boston felt like a dream. The entire city was celebrating the sport. Runners walked around in official bright teal race jackets. Volunteers were out and about preparing the streets for race day. Most of the shops had signs of encouragement put up.
At the race expo, I felt the privilege of just being there. After all, the Boston Marathon’s tough qualification requirements draw the world’s best runners. I saw running superstars, but I also knew that the best runners of each participating country were quietly walking around the expo.
Looking at them, I remembered my experience in qualifying for the race: four months of grueling training to reach a 3:30-hour qualifying time, and another four months to train for the Boston Marathon itself. Many people try for years to qualify. Others do it by sheer talent. Knowing that these people qualified was a humbling experience. Being there felt like I was looking at the best of what the human body can achieve. I was in the company of champions.
Then the big day came. It was “Marathon Monday,” and all of Boston brimmed with energy at its biggest annual event. The race starts 42 km away, runs through seven towns, and ends in the city proper. As early as 6 a.m. runners piled into buses to get to the town of Hopkinton and start the historic run.
We arrived at the starting point at around 8:30 a.m. Thousands of runners were standing by at the “Athlete’s Village” to wait for their starting corral. What a sight it was—men and women of different colors, ages and nationalities, in a mix of nervous excitement, calm preparation, and curious anticipation.
At 10:50 a.m. sharp, the starting gun was fired. Cheers rose, and the runners went off like an excited pulse. I remember trying my best to slow down during the first 10 km. The Boston course is known for being hilly, rolling and unforgiving. The challenge is to run it smartly so that one’s legs will still have energy during its hardest sections toward KM 30.
As we made our way to the next 10 km, the course relaxed to an easy, rolling incline. One thing I can never forget is the boundless energy and support from the crowd. Left and right, one could see the residents of the participating towns, as well as friends and family showing support for the marathoners. People went out of their homes to cheer strangers. They lined the streets, called out the name on one’s race bib, and offered high-fives for energy. Signs of encouragement decorated the route. Town centers and small businesses blasted out party music to keep the energy going. Even seniors were out on their lawn chairs, handing out water or simply watching the spectacle. It was a party!
And it became even better. Halfway through the course, we entered the famous “scream tunnel” at the town of Wellesley. Even from a mile away, we could hear far off cheers that kept getting louder and louder and louder. And what a surprise when we reached the famous Wellesley landmark: girls from the local college lined up for a full kilometer, asking runners for a kiss. It’s an annual tradition for the college girls to kiss and cheer the marathoners until they lose their voices. All my tiredness just melted at the unbelievable sight, and at the runners who actually stopped to kiss the college girls.
And then suddenly, the fun was over and the course reached the town of Newton, famous for its three “killer” hills. Even with all the prerace knowledge, nothing could ever prepare one for the long hills that never seemed to end. At that point, all my mental focus was centered on making the hills without walking. I was praying that my quads and calves would not fail me. I told myself to give my best, while all around me runners were dropping and walking. It was tough. I remembered all the hills training that my coach made me do during training, and I was resolved to make him proud. It became a moment where preparation and sheer hardheadedness truly paid off. I felt a personal victory when I ran all the way to the top of the final hill, appropriately named “Heartbreak Hill.”
The crowd continued to thicken as we made our way to the last 5 km of the race. They continued to cheer us on and help us get to the finish line. I remember the crowd, because after running the Newton hills, my legs were absolutely shot. I was in a lot of pain, and I was just getting energy from all the people who were cheering us on. I looked around at the runners around me, and they also looked like they had had a beating. And then I realized that no matter where we came from, and no matter what our reasons were for running, we were in the middle of a precious moment. We were all running the most prestigious race in the world, and that in itself is a celebration. I endured the pain and kept my pace steady.
The last kilometer of the race was extraordinary. There was no stretch in the route without spectators. And all of them were cheering for us. The final stretch of the Boston Marathon ended on Boylston Street, where a grandstand was set up and was overflowing with people watching the runners cross the finish line. The sound of cheers in the last 100 meters of the race was so overpowering that it fueled me as I finally crossed the finish line.
I received my medal right afterwards, and felt such a triumph seeing these words engraved: 120th Boston Marathon, April 18, 2016. I felt so humbled by the course because it was the toughest 42 km I have ever run. I felt an affinity with all the runners who ran the course that day, and all the runners who have run it in the past 120 years. They must have felt as tired, as proud and as joyful as I was at that moment.
Now I understand what it is to run Boston. It’s not just about the route, it’s also about the history of running, and the raw celebration of the sport. It’s not just about ourselves, it’s also about the friends, family and strangers who came out to celebrate the race with us. It’s about excellence, dedication, faith and friendship.
The Boston Marathon is, at its core, a celebration of the human spirit. It’s about dreams.
Kristy Abello, 29, is an IT project manager at Procter & Gamble Philippines. She ran her first marathon in 2008 with a time of 5:50 hours, and, years later, ran her best 42 km in 3:30 hours. “I attribute my success to my running coach who never stops believing in me, and to my running team (The Pukers) who makes running an unending source of joy.”