Boston
April 26, 2001
The crisp spring air is rattled by a scouring flight of F-15 fighters over the start. Rock music and speeches echo in the ears of more than fifteen thousand runners as they begin their 26.2-mile trek from Hopkinton in the 105th running of the Boston Marathon. Along the route, the athletes will be hailed by a half-million spectators; aided by thousands of volunteers distributing water, sports drinks, and packets of carbohydrate replacement goop; and filmed and photographed by thousands more in the media at this Mecca of marathoning.
Within these masses, Dan McSorley has started his run. It will take him several minutes to actually reach the starting line. But a computer chip attached to his running shoes will keep track of that for him, and will even allow Dan’s wife, Lori, to watch his progress during the race over the Internet, from four hundred miles away. This is Dan’s first run at Boston, and he’s nervous and thrilled as he begins. He’s proud to have qualified to compete by finishing a marathon in Columbus, Ohio in less than three hours and ten minutes. But more than anything, Dan is just happy to be here. A few hours earlier, while he and his fellow Bagel Bunch running group members loitered at Hopkinton State Park, awaiting the school bus ride to the starting area, he said, “I just want to enjoy the run, the excitement and the crowds of Boston.”
Paul Leo McSorley, Dan’s father, a veteran of twenty-two marathons who ran his first Boston in 1972, awaits his son’s arrival at mile seventeen, which is strategically located near the first incline of infamous Heartbreak Hill. He’s accompanied by two more sons, Paul and Andrew, who share an admiration for the feat their brother is performing, and a certainty that it’s one they’ll never attempt. “The first time I ran at Boston,” Paul Leo says, “I just couldn’t believe the support, the crowds. Even then, at Boston, marathons were something special, though it certainly wasn’t anywhere near as big as it is today. I remember being drawn along by all the people. I ran faster than I should have, because of all the excitement, then I paid for it late in the race,” he says as he shakes his head and laughs. “That’s the best advice I could give to Dan: enjoy it, but try not to get so swept up in it that you go too fast.”
When Paul began running marathons, few people outside of the participants paid any attention; it was definitely a club sport. Runners got together for support and to share ideas. Paul remembers a mimeographed sheet distributed by Browning Ross, founder of the Midlantic Runners Association, which had guidance about distance running by Tom Osler. (This chapbook would eventually become The Serious Runner’s Handbook, World Publications, 1978.) One such tip was to wear Hush Puppies shoes to run in, because they had soft bottoms. There was no such thing as a “running” shoe then. Paul also remembers differing theories about how many miles to train, what to eat, etc. that circulated around the running community then. There was a lot of trial and error experimentation.
To compete in this race, an athlete must prepare for months. Dan followed a program developed by Jack Daniels, track coach at SUNY Cortland and a leader in endurance sports theory. He also relied on the experience gained in two previous marathons. He had the support of fellow Rochester runners: the Bagel Bunch, a group he runs with Saturdays; and the Sals, who do their miles by the Erie Canal. But he also had a spectacular example to follow. Paul finished five marathons in 1972 on the way to clocking over twenty-one hundred miles. Training is what makes a marathoner.
Paul remembers the miles spent on countless misty mornings pounding out the distance he needed to be ready. He remembers icicles in his hair, his hat stuck to his head on cold days, and blood blisters, rubs, and taping hot spots on the hot days. “You’ve got to have the self-discipline to get out there,” Paul said. “Bad habits are easy to acquire; good habits are tougher, but once you get a hold of one, you’ll appreciate it. I’m glad to have passed on one good habit, when it’s so easy to pass along bad ones.”
We’re now over an hour and a half into the run and Dan is not really tired yet. He is in a good groove as he works his way down the hills, and slaps the hands of onlookers. As he approaches mile-point seventeen, he looks for Dad. But the crowd is huge.
Suddenly he sees him. Both sides of the street are caked with onlookers, but Dan happens to see his Dad. Marathoner greets marathoner and Paul whoops for the push of his son. Dan slaps his hand, he smiles and yells. And then he’s gone. Dan runs by, and thousands are with him. Happy, wonderful, smacking hands, smiling for cameras, the masses of runners run. They pass by, a multitude surging toward the goal, Boston.
“He looks pretty good,” Paul says. “Pretty strong.”
Later, we will find Dan in the immense push of thousands tangled in the streets of Boston; runners, family, and spectators mixed into a sea of flesh. He’s jubilant and weary, his first Boston under his belt, and he’s looking for us to lead him to the way home.
