The eve of a Boston Easter
Most of the day was devoted to travel. Airplanes and airports are generally uninteresting, but today was different. Runners from around the world were making their annual pilgrimage to Boston and I was lucky enough to be among them.
Airport waits were spent talking to other runners. We compared stories, we gave our opinions about the weather on marathon day, and we took part in the rites of the marathon called Boston.
We wore our shirts and jackets to identify ourselves as Boston runners. These things served as the colors of our gang; a fraternity of a diverse group of people bound by a love for running and a race named Boston.
I talked with Mary Beth from Texas, an 11th grade teacher running Boston for the first time. I talked to some nameless veterans and I accepted nods of acknowledgement from passers by.
This was a day I felt important. Recognition came from many places. Our flight attendant wished us luck over the intercom; a pilot asked me questions about the race while we rode the elevated train in Dallas.
We made it to our hotel room by 4:30 PM. My brother George was waiting for us there. Soon, Kenna, a fellow blogger would call and all of us along with her friend Susan went out to dinner.
Tomorrow will be some light sightseeing and acquiring my race packet. The weather is cooling and the outlook for Monday looks to be near perfect running conditions, except for a possible strong head wind.
So things are going well. The clock is ticking down to that Patriot's Day Noon in which 20,000 pilgrims who assembled in Hopkinton, MA will make their way over the rolling hills east to Boston through corridors of cheering souls.
When it is all said and done, the 110th Boston Marathon will be history and we will all be part of its story.
Until the next time
John Strain