Experiencing the ultimate Boston doubleheader
I’ll start this with a confession: I didn’t think the Red Sox would make the playoffs this season, much less advance to the ALCS.
I was wrong, and from a personal standpoint, maybe in the best way possible.
First, a backstory: Running Monday’s historic return of the Boston Marathon was something I wanted to do since it was taken away last spring. I was a month away from running the 2020 Boston Marathon last March when COVID-19 cancelled those plans. I still ran it virtually in September, which was special in its own way, but not quite the same.
I wanted the real thing again, something I experienced for the first time in 2018.
Fast forward to April 21, 2021. That’s the day I applied to the Joe Andruzzi Foundation to run for their Boston Marathon team for the return of the iconic race on Oct. 11. A week later, I was accepted. My excitement was buzzing as I began training and fundraising.
Turns out, I had no idea what I was really signing up for.
Even as the Red Sox produced a strong April, the idea that they would be playing in a playoff game on the same day as the marathon seemed like a pipe dream. But as they stayed in the playoff race longer than expected, it started crossing my mind more often. I started jokingly telling friends and colleagues that I would both run the Boston Marathon and cover a Red Sox playoff game on the same day, if it happened.
Everything would have needed to line up perfectly for that to happen: Not only would a playoff game need to be scheduled on Monday, but it would also need to be at Fenway Park, and the game would have to be at night to afford myself enough time between running the marathon and getting to the game.
Then last week, the joke became a once unthinkable reality. The Red Sox won the Wild Card game, meaning Game 4 of the Division Series would be at Fenway. On Thursday, the ALDS schedule revealed that Game 4 on Monday would be at 7:07 p.m. Then, the Red Sox won on Friday, guaranteeing that Game 4 would take place.
It was happening. The two things that my life revolved around over the last six months — covering the Red Sox for the Herald and training for the Boston Marathon — would intersect on one day for an epic, never-before-seen Marathon Monday doubleheader. There wasn’t a chance I was passing up this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do both.
In hindsight, it was good for me that the Red Sox won Friday. It gave me the weekend to plan for Monday, rather than waiting late on Sunday to know my fate.
Monday met and in some ways even surpassed my expectations.
The day began with a 6 a.m. wake-up in the city, then a 7:45 a.m. departure to walk with my friend Courtney, also running the marathon, to catch a private bus to Hopkinton. By about 9:30, we arrived in Hopkinton, where we hopped off that bus to get on a school bus shuttle to the start line. And how’s this for fate: The bus was from Taunton, my hometown, as was our driver.
During a normal marathon year, we would wait on our bus in the athlete’s village for hours before we started, but it changed this year. We had a rolling start, which basically meant we could start whenever we wanted. After some last-second prepping and photos, we crossed the start line at 10:28 a.m.
It was a moment 910 days in the making since the last in-person Boston Marathon, and it was surreal.
My race didn’t go as well as I hoped. I was cruising at about an 8:35/mile pace for the first 16 miles, but the wall hits you hard on this course. At mile 18, when I found the Andruzzi Foundation’s tent and stopped for a few moments, I decided I didn’t care about my time anymore. I wanted to soak in the experience and enjoy it as much as I could.
The crowd didn’t disappoint. If there was any doubt how much this city cares about and lives for the marathon every year, Monday was a statement. After 910 days without it, Boston showed out stronger than ever and like it had never left. As I got over Heartbreak Hill and ran the final stretch toward the city, the crowds — and some special sightings of my supportive friends — carried me.
Boylston Street was especially incredible. In 2018, when I ran it for the first time, it was hard to take in the atmosphere as I ran through a torrential rainstorm. I felt like a professional athlete as the roar of the massive crowds pierced through both sides of the street. I dragged my tired legs to the finish line in an unofficial time of 4:09:09.
It was 2:38 p.m., which gave me four-and-a-half hours until the Red Sox game started. I took some time to recover and celebrate before heading out. And in probably my most insane decision of the day, I actually walked two miles to get to Fenway. What’s another two after 26.2?
I got to Fenway at 6:35 p.m. and I had just one wish as I climbed up — I smartly used the elevator — to the press box: No extra innings, please. Kiké Hernández obliged in the ninth inning with his walk-off sac fly to send the Red Sox to the ALCS, igniting a wild celebration on the field and capping a truly memorable day in Boston.
It was 1:30 a.m. by the time I got home, tired but satisfied.
I was often asked on Monday at Fenway how I was feeling. Certainly sore and tired, but it was more than worth it. The day was unlike anything ever seen in Boston sports history, and to be part of it all will be a story I get to tell for the rest of my life.