The Boston Marathon – Binge Drinking for Binge Runners

As pretty much everyone in America knows yesterday was the Boston Marathon. But what you may not know is the effect this “little” race day has on our lovely city. Boston is a very sports fanatical city, Sox, Pats, Celts, Bruins (ok probs not so much for Bruins, but let’s try to be nice here), regardless we love our sports teams. I often describe the average Boston boy as loud, drunk, and in a Sox hat. That’s what we do. We watch sports, yell about sports, and let sports run our wardrobe. Ask five girls who grew up in Massachusetts if they do now or have ever owned a sox hat, shirt or jersey and all five will say yes, four of them will tell you that they owned something red sox in the color pink.



I always told co-blogger Sarah that I’d be afraid to move to D.C. because I wouldn’t know how to talk to boys in bars. In D.C. to impress people you pretend to understand politics, in Boston, you repeat something one of your male friends/family members said about sports and proclaim yourself a “haahd cooah spots fan.” Works every time.

But sorry we aren’t talking about baseball, we’re talking about running. (Although I totally think the Sox can go all the way this year, hands down, no factual evidence necessary.) So yes, running. As a runner I love to watch people run. I find it so inspiring to see them push through pain and sprint at the end of 26.2 miles. Apparently Boston agrees. You see on “Patriots Day” colloquially known as “Marathon Monday” the city shuts down. You can’t drive down major streets, the T pretty much stops running (or at least it feels that way when you’re stuck on it for over an hr try to go 2 stops), T stations close, kids have no school, and grown ups have the day off. That’s right, in Suffolk County, Marathon Monday is a holiday,and why not, sports and alcohol are things that just about every Bostonian can get behind, Marathon Monday just makes it more official.

But for me there is something about the marathon that I love more than other sports. When you go to Fenway Park, you can yell, scream and swear all you want, but players don’t know it. They can’t look you in the eye and say thank you, or “my, my missy you’ve been “cheering” for a while haven’t you.” You don't get the reaction. But at the marathon you see them running by and scream the name they have written on their shirt or call them out by their outfit. As in “Blue shirt man! Blue Shirt man! You’ve got this, yo. You’ve got this!” Last year, my roommate jumped over the rope and ran 2 blocks with a runner. This year a man stopped and asked us for a sip of our beer (oh yea that’s the other thing, not only does the city shut down, but the city also gets really drunk). Every year you see a nervous boyfriend clutching flowers and a back pack of goodies for his running girlfriend, or little kids waiting for their mom or dad to finish. You see people running next to their friends with signs saying “cheer for jenny!” or a lovely old man with a shirt saying 26.2 at 66. For weeks leading up to the marathon the news covers inspiring stories about people running, which bored working Bostonians then send to friends and family members so that everyone they know is sobbing at their desk. The marathon just seems more real, more personal.

This is why to me, marathon in Boston is the ultimate. People spend their lives trying to qualify, and it's totally obvious why. The city loves it, the runners love it, and every packie on Beacon Street rejoices. Honestly, the marathon is one of my favorite things about living in Boston. And that’s why next year, when the marathon falls on my 25th birthday I want to run it and be part of the amazing, inspiring, and sometime downright crazy group of runners that can proudly say that “I’ve run Boston.”