I had the great fortune of watching my daughter mash the Boston Marathon. I spectated from mile 24.9.
It’s on Beacon st, right at the crest of a little hill that doesn’t register on the list of famous features to look out for on the route, such as Heartbreak Hill in Newton.
The crowd picks up here — 3-4 deep. Lots of cowbells and encouragement. Fenway’s right there. You’ve got just one more turn to make onto Boyleston and down the iconic finishing shoot. The last watering station is just ahead. You’ve got this.
But if this is your first time on the course, it’s probably unexpected. You’re past the famous hills. Nobody (except those who know) talks about this little blip. You had no idea.
Make no mistake, this little non-feature was a heartbreaker for many, even without the moniker.
I watched this last blip wipe out a bunch of people. Brought some to their knees. Lots of wobblers and walkers. I saw people crying.
But everyone kept going. One foot in front of the other.
It’s one thing to know the hard times are coming. You can prepare. Train. Get yourself emotionally ready.
It’s a whole other thing when you had no idea. They are, by far, the hardest.
There’s just something that feels cruel about that little blip that nobody talks about right at the end.
Will you keep going?
