I live .6 of a mile from the halfway point of the Boston Marathon. This means I enjoy a front row seat to watch runners – from the old hands to the first timers – logging their miles on the course. They’re easy to spot. Some come in huge gaggles that clog up the intersections. Others traverse Washington Street alone, eyes focused on the road before them as it bends towards Comm Ave, the ghostly cheers of the Wellesley College scream tunnel echoing in their minds.
This last weekend in March, they ran in below-freezing conditions, a fitting finale to a historically cold training cycle complete with multiple record-setting snowfalls. Preparing for a marathon is not for the faint of heart. You commit knowing it’s going to be hard. But even the toughest among us balk at blizzards.
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