Picture this. You're running the Boston Marathon. You're on mile 13, cruising
down Route 16, making excellent time in your Saucony running shoes, pacing yourself
just right, when your ears pick up the distant sound of high pitched, continuous
screaming. As you get closer, the screaming gets louder, and even louder still,
until you can not believe the deafening wall of noise you are running through.
You see hand-lettered signs, hands waving, reaching out to give you a slap on
the back or a high five. You're about to hit the Halfway Point of the Boston
Marathon. And, just your luck, that halfway mark is right smack dab at Wellesley
College. You wonder "how can these women possibly be making so much noise?"
The cacophony continues as you run past the campus, down into town. Everywhere
you look, it's a continuous line of mostly females. And if it's 1988, a lot
of them are probably wearing this T-shirt.
Going out to cheer the Boston Marathon runners is a proud Wellesley tradition.
Every year on Patriot's Day, a Massachusetts holiday in April, satellite TV
trucks congregate outside the quad, a crew comes and sets up a clock with the
official time, and women start gathering to see the starting batch of marathoners,
actually the wheelchair racers, come by. The crowd thickens gradually, but by
the time the first group of world class runners arrives, a deep line of students
is gathered on both sides of the road to cheer the marathoners on. The college
newspaper once received a letter from a grateful marathoner who said the cheers
he experienced running through Wellesley inspired and propelled him through
the remainder of the race. You'll hear similar accounts from other runners.
Racing through that wall of women cheering you on, incessantly, not caring who
you are, or that your heel is blistering up, or that you're wondering why you
didn't stay home and just take the dog out for a walk, is an experience few
forget. Even the bus that comes through towards the end of the race, carrying
mylar wrapped racers who had to stop early, gets cheered on its way. Anyone
wearing a Wellesley or MIT shirt gets extra attention and is deaf by the time
they reach the edge of town. Wellesley students who decide to run half of the
marathon are no dummies. They run the first half. Who cares about crossing the
finish line in Boston when you can end the 13 miles at a place where you will
be hailed like a baseball team returning home after winning the World Series?
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