Events like the Marathon are vanishing. Enjoy them while you can.
It’s a cliché to say the Boston Marathon brings people together. But the thing is, it’s true. Runners, look around you while you struggle up Heartbreak Hill, stagger through Cleveland Circle, or hit the wall in Coolidge Corner. You’ll see Bostonians smiling at total strangers. You’ll hear cheering. You’ll see parking spaces, willingly and cheerfully surrendered to make way for runners and spectators, many of whom don’t have a resident sticker.
None of this is normal.
You’ll see Americans, in an election year, who don’t know or care how you’re voting. You’ll see people of all political stripes at the same place and the same time, feeling the same way. And not because it’s a funeral.
That’s really not normal.
You, of course, are the reason for such unusual sights. Most of you running in the 128th running of the Marathon on Monday are not professionals (though they get cheered too). You are running for … well, honestly, we’re not sure. To raise money for orthopedists, probably.
But whatever your motivations, the sheer determination it takes to run 26.2 miles is an inspiring sight to others. That’s what makes the marathon so unique and special. That’s why we’re cheering you on and not requesting a wellness check instead.
Indeed, there are not many unifying events like the Boston Marathon left in American public life — frayed as it is by partisan division, the polarizing effects of social media, and the decline of national institutions that once united all Americans. Like Notre Dame football, for instance, or moon landings.
Sure, we do a decent job observing national holidays together, but even they are coming apart at the seams, with traditionally festive family Thanksgivings turning into mini editions of “Crossfire” — which, come to think of it, is also no longer a shared thing.
You, the runners, show that there is still a best in us to bring out, still something unifying that everyone can respond to. Hopefully, that makes all the vomiting and chafed nipples feel worthwhile. You show us what humanity’s still capable of — your individual accomplishment, to be sure, but ours too, happily uniting for a communal event.
On Tuesday, we’ll be back on social media learning why one another are monsters. The person who was cheering you on Monday may well be labeling you a fascist or a communist on Tuesday. 311 will light up with calls about illegal parking, so don’t even think about it.
Instead, enjoy this moment while it lasts — and welcome to Boston.