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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