Dump the Rabbits Into the Harbor

Photo by Howard Lao

Dump the Rabbits Into the Harbor

We’re in the real game now

Tomorrow morning there’s going to be a marathon contested in Boston for the 127th time since 1897. A race so old and steeped in tradition that some folks still refer to it as a footrace- I love it. It is held in the city where a ragtag crew of dreamers first plotted against a king who had at his disposal the most powerful fighting force in the world. It is one of 6 World Marathon Majors. It is it is the oldest running marathon on earth. It is known to the running world simply as “Boston”, unless those runners are also 80’s arena rock fans and need to distinguish it from their beloved chart-topping band.

So many people have come and gone.

Boston goes by many nicknames. Titletown, The Cradle of Liberty and the Athens of America. Fitting, as the Boston Marathon began a year after the first modern Olympics held in the Ancient Greek city in 1896. The nickname, though, refers to Boston’s like history as a philosophical and democratic center. This attitude is reflected in the race’s democratic decision to place the power in the hands of the people and… pull the damned rabbits.

There are no pacers in Boston. No enforced splits to pre-set the way athletes must compete in order to win. Every person in the race has the right to determine their own path to victory, dependent only on others’ designs to do the same and not on some higher power’s edict mandating a speed, that limits the liberties of racers to play what they decide is their best hand. In Boston, you are free to pursue your own path to the finish line and navigate the field to place as high up as your talents of physical strength, tactical prowess and heart will take you. The constructs of the race are not fabricated and are instead defined by the intentions of the competitors in the field. Boston calls you to match wits as well as fitness.

In Boston, the winning time does not matter. In a race that carries so much pomp and prestige, to say you placed first or third or top ten is all that needs to be said.

It is the real game.

Kipchoge is coming!

Arguably the greatest marathoner who ever lived will toe the line in Hopkinton for the first time on Monday. Call me crazy, but I find the man’s championship races more impressive than his set-up attempts at breaking the 2 hr barrier. He has proven himself to not only have the tools to latch onto the back of a Tesla and grind himself into a pile of dust with a Colgate smile, but he is nearly unflappable under pressure of opponent-reading and decision-making while redlining. Of the 17 marathons he has run (not counting his breaking 2 attempts) he has won 15. A career batting average of .882. He has won 4/6 majors (the ones he’s competed in: Chicago, Berlin, Tokyo, London). If he strides down Boylston in front on Monday, Boston would be his fifth, and the great Ted Williams if he were still alive would have to say: “There goes the greatest marathoner who ever lived.” His presence narrows the pie slice that is everyone else’s ability to succeed. In a field of earls and dukes, he is the sun king. All eyes will be on him and every member of the court will have to weigh the consequences of their actions when and if they decide to move against him. Does anyone dare?

In the winds of 2011, in a valiant attempt to take it, Ryan Hall ran 2:04 and did not. In the storm year of 2018, Des Linden navigated the squalls the best and won. There is no asterisk. Des likes the game. She likes to have agency- to play against her opponents with all of her faculties, instead of being locked in to one dimension in a war of attrition. If that is the game that must be played, let it come from the feet of someone with skin in the game. A racer’s knowledge of their fitness and strengths is rewarded by how they tune these to the field and the conditions. There are no bonus points for numbers on the clock- they are simply and titillatingly the narrative piece of the journey- the description of the effort it takes to defeat the opponents. Every move is marked by an uptick or down tick in pace, like musical notes on sheet music.

Know the fabled segments. Watch the splits. Mark who is responsible for them.

Marvel at the feats within the race performed in service to the win.

They are the means to create the end.

And savor every fucking note.

Boston is a city where resourceful underdogs can scheme up and grit out a win.

It’s more than a feeling.

#RespectTheFavorite

#FearTheUnderdog

#BostonMarathon

Watch Live on ESPN: the worldwide leader in sports

8:30am ET