Perspective Perspective
Running Boston Backwards Anthony L Kovatch, MD “Life must be lived forwards, but can only be understood backwards.” — Soren Kirkegaard, Danish philosopher and father of Existentialism (1813-1835) They were there to embrace me in my state of exhaustion after finishing the long race—if only retroactively and in my imagination! It was Saturday, March 12th of 2022. I had started the race on Saturday, October 9th of 2021. I was so exhilarated that we took a picture for Facebook to be remembered for another 50 years. (See photo at end of article.)
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After all, it is clearly stated in the rulebook that a VIRTUAL marathon--even the most pre-eminent of them all, the one in Boston—can be run at the time and place determined by the registrant who has paid his fee and on completion will receive his medal. Therefore, I reasoned, delayed gratification is acceptable—even when the delay spans 50 years…. ……..It was a watershed assignment for the fledgling reporter of the sports department of the Daily Pennsylvanian, which in 1972 had
proclaimed itself the #1 student newspaper in the country; he was to write an editorial about the historic Boston Marathon, which was taking place the following Monday, as was the tradition. This being 50 years ago, I cannot now remember why a student in Philadelphia was candidly reporting upon an event in a rival city that was likely to be glorified by a top-notch reporter in a rival institution (Harvard). I had no credentials, being the kind of inferior athlete who hides from the eyes of the world by running alone along the paths of cemeteries or in the darkness of the early night. I do remember well that the title of the editorial in my column called “Kid’s Korner” was purposely insipid and vague: “The Men, the Madness, and the Marathon.” I only half –remember the opening line: “The distance from Hopkinton, MA to Copley Square in the heart of Boston is 26.2 miles---it is forever (or maybe I wrote “eternal”) in a dream.” Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that a half century later, I would be one of the “Men,” albeit only vicariously. I realize now that, even back in those lost days of youth, I had a flare for melodrama. After a long moratorium from casual running when my children were too young and restless to cooperate in such a monotonous, lonely activity, I www.acms.org
