As I mentioned in a previous post, I ran the Boston Marathon on Monday. My main goal this year was to avoid last year’s experience of spending the night in an ER while receiving seven liters of fluid through a needle in my arm.

The weather was somewhat cooperative this year; still too hot, but not roasting. The noon start is nutty, but that’s tradition for you. This year, the medical tent was again packed with runners with IV’s after the race, but fortunately, not one of them was me. As usual, Holly was my single greatest source of support.

The best thing about the Boston Marathon is the support from the fans, about a million or more of whom line the course—the race is held every year on Patriot’s Day (a New England Holiday) and most folks have the day off. Last year, while running with a blank jersey, I learned that if you put your name on your shirt, you get even more fan support. So this year, at my request, Holly’s mom fixed up a running shirt for me...it said “Jay” and under that it said, “Thanks Boston.”

For almost the entire course, people were shouting at me: “Go Jay!” and “Looking great, Jay!” (Absurd lies are still comforting sometimes.) On many occasions, I was able to look right at group of people who had yelled “Go Jay!” and pump my fist, or wave to them…which typically had the effect of making them go even more nuts, particularly if they were little kids in Newton or young folks at Boston College who had ostensibly been drinking all morning.

I figure that at least 1% of the people lining the course yelled or chanted “Go Jay!” which means I heard it at least 10,000 times on Monday. During several of the miles, I heard an almost constant “Go Jay!” every few feet. Heady stuff for a guy who can’t hit a curveball or a golf ball. All this sound egotistical? Maybe so, but the fans seem to love interacting with the runners every bit as much as the runners enjoy the fan support. I wasn't special...for a mile or so, I ran near a guy who had "Sponge Bob" written on his shirt, and people were going *absolutely nuts* for him.

The key if you are a runner is having an easy-to-pronounce name in large, readable letters on your jersey and acknowledging people who shout to you. The crowd is *looking* for runners to cheer for and make a connection with; it’s almost as if they’re disappointed if you *don’t* have your name on your jersey.

Even better than making the final turn onto Boylston Street just before the finish line is running by Wellesley College near the halfway point. As long as I live, I shall never forget the scream tunnel at Wellesley. The noise made for runners at the scream tunnel would surely drown out a jet engine.

On Monday, I finished in a net time of 3:07:06, almost 20 minutes faster than my time last year, and a good time for me considering the heat and the hills. But there are a lot of serious runners at Boston, so I didn’t even crack the top 1,000—I finished 1,126th out of 18,319 starters. The leaders beat me by almost an hour, which is always a humbling reminder that I’m just another runner in the “masses.”

Here’s another perspective: the winner’s average pace was 5:02 for each of the 26.2 miles, and he and the lead pack ran many sub-five-minute miles. Even though I ran a 4:23 mile in high school, and despite the fact that I am still a halfway decent runner, I am pretty certain I couldn’t run ONE “sub-five” mile these days, and I am 100% certain that I couldn’t run two in a row, let alone 10, let alone 26.

Finally, here’s a recommendation for any of you who have ever considered running a marathon, or even running Boston in particular: Do it. I am reminded about the basic goodness of people every time I run a marathon. And I usually learn something about myself, too. Of the marathons I have run, Boston has the best crowd support, by an order of magnitude. And don’t let Boston’s qualifying standards concern you; I’m told you can officially run Boston without qualifying if you run it as a fundraiser for one of several charities. For more information, check out the Boston Marathon website.