Today: The day after Marathon Monday.

[tweetmeme source=”elizabethev” only_single=false] Yesterday began much like any other Monday, with me wondering how my toothbrush fell directly into the toilet (don’t worry, I had a new one at the ready) and trying to wrangle Clark in time for Day School drop-off.  He’s like a kindergartner, minus the opposable thumbs and verbal skills, plus a lot of fur.  By the time I got back to Southie, the Boston Marathon was well underway.

For the past four years, I’ve watched the marathon from my friend Pat’s place, which is right around mile 23.  When I still lived in Coolidge Corner, it was a quick trip down Beacon Street.  Now that I live in Southie, it’s a bit of a longer stroll.  Somehow I took the T to Pat’s with no problem last year.  This year, I found myself traveling inbound to Park Street, with every intention of hopping on a green line train back outbound to Brookline.  Once I got to Park Street, however, I got entirely crushed between fellow marathon fans and Sox game-goers, some of whom actually remembered to apply deodorant.  After waiting 20 minutes and being touched by far too many strangers, I made a run for it. Or more accurately, a walk for it.  I really don’t like crowds.

Fortunately, it was a beautiful day, and we live in a beautiful city.  My walk through the Common and down Boylston, across Newbury and out Comm Ave. afforded me the opportunity to see much of the end of the course before things really got started.  It felt like being behind the scenes.

As I turned towards Kenmore Square, I saw one of the first wheelchair racers climbing his final hill before turning onto Hereford.  Naturally, I started crying.  Thank goodness for over-sized sunglasses.  And waterproof mascara.  Marathon Monday is always fraught with emotion for me.  I’m certain every competitor has a story, and it’s impossible to not get caught up in the humanity of it all.  One of the most compelling stories, for me, was seeing so many racers wearing “Rise Up for Japan” jerseys.  The men’s wheelchair winner, Soejima Masazumi was interviewed by the Globe after crossing the finish line.

“I was thinking until my hands start bleeding, until my heart stops, I am going to try until the very end,” Soejima said through a translator. “With everything that has happened in Japan, I really wanted to try hard this year, especially to finish in Boston and do well for my country.”

By the time I finally reached Pat’s apartment, I had covered 3.5 miles of ground, taken 50 or so pictures, and given 2 crackers to a random child.  I arrived just in time to catch the women’s pace car. I was surprised that Kim Smith was no where in sight.  When I left our condo, she was 25 seconds or so ahead of the lead pack, nearing mile 10.  Thanks to the magic of Twitter, I learned she had to drop out of the race shortly after the 20 mile mark with severe calf pain.  I can’t imagine how devastating that might be. You know, because I don’t run marathons for a living.  Either way, the elite women were cruuuuuising.

Shortly thereafter, the men came powering by.  Here’s another thing I just can’t fathom:  You’re running a 2:03 marathon.  And you look like you’re enjoying afternoon tea.  I would be freaking out, man!  I sort of wanted to reach out and touch these people, just to see if they’re really real.  But I didn’t want to get arrested.  I left that to the drunk lil’ bitties wearing BU sweatshirts, giving the finger to Pat and Kunal’s BC tent. Straight class, ladies.

I must admit, I was completely star struck by Kara Goucher (Seriously, in what part of her body was she carrying a child six months ago? In a backpack maybe?), Ryan Hall, Uta Pippig, Robert Kiprono Cheruiyot, and Joan Benoit Samuelson.  A bit more from The Boston Globe:

“I did it on a wing and a prayer,” Samuelson said after finishing the race. “I wasted a lot of energy in the last couple of days wondering if I was going to get to the starting line and I decided with the forecast and the tail wind, that I’d regret not at least trying. I’ve never dropped out of a race. That was on my mind. I tried to put that out.”

There are so many incredible role models to be found in the sport of running.  Yes, I did just write that. Cheeseball alert.

I had to get back home in time for an afternoon conference call (Sorry, World, it turns out you don’t all get Marathon Monday/Patriots Day off), but I regretted not being able to stay on the course longer.  Being a back-of-the-middle-of-the-pack marathoner myself, my favorite people to cheer for are the people who seem to need just even a tiny bit of encouragement.  I like being there cheering when they open the road to traffic, because you know the people still running worked as hard (if not harder) than everyone else out there.  As luck would have it (sort of), the T was– not surprisingly– still completely packed, so I walked back the way I came, and cheered on the move.  Clapping while walking is sort of awkward, but I’m no stranger to awkward.

I secretly cried some more behind my sunglasses as I watched runners climb the overpass at the 40k mark to be greeted by patients and families in the Dana Farber and Children’s Hospital cheering sections.  I laughed as a caveman ran by, thinking about how our Team in Training group once joked about a fellow teammate running in a loin cloth.  I cried some more as a grandmother greeted her granddaughter as she made her way through Kenmore.  By the time I made it home to Southie, I had given directions, dinner recommendations and high fives to many, many marathoners.

This year was different from past years, and not just because I didn’t get to stay out as long as I would have liked to.  I used to watch each runner pass in awe (I still do, that hasn’t changed) and wonder if I would ever be able to run 26.2 miles.  This was my first time watching the Boston Marathon as a marathoner.  Sure, Disney was no Boston, but it may as well be my Boston.  I’m reminded of just how much we can accomplish if we only believe in ourselves, make a plan, and get to work.

Congratulations to everyone who took on Boston– or a different challenge, big or small– yesterday.  You’re all heroes in my eyes.

Also On Tap for Today:

• Speaking of marathons… I, um… registered for the NYC Marathon lottery.  You’ve got until midnight to join!
• More marathon coverage and photos
• Dinner with a friend 🙂