The third Monday in April is Patriots’ Day in Massachusetts and Maine. The holiday commemorates the April 19, 1775  battle of Lexington and Concord.  Since its inception in 1897, the Boston Marathon has always been held on Patriots’ Day, but it wasn’t until 1969 that Patriots’ Day was moved from April 19th, the actual day of the battle, to the third Monday in April. Now the holiday is now more commonly known as Marathon Monday.

I didn’t grow up amongst runners yet I knew about the Boston Marathon from a young age. I am a Massachusetts native after all. In college I had the opportunity to work setting up barriers along some of the roads towards the end of the marathon. My friend’s aunt and uncle own the company that organizes the finish line and many other components of the race.  I spent race day at the finish line. Despite being the furthest thing from a runner at that time, I found the experience quite incredible. However, at no time during that day did I even once contemplate crossing that or any other marathon finish line. It would be another 11 years or so before I was bit by the running bug and then another 4 years before I would run my first marathon at Disney.

I have never run the Boston Marathon. Since 1970, entrance into Boston has required runners to meet a qualifying time also known as a BQ. For some simply achieving the BQ is a feat in and of itself, and does not necessarily guarantee entry into the race.

There are two other points of entry for interested non-qualified runners. The Boston Marathon charity program allows entry to approximately 6,000 runners who have raised a minimum of $5,000. A small percentage of runners are invited to run by sponsors, running clubs, media, or other promoters.

The Boston Marathon inspires me as a runner and a human being. To witness the determination and strength of the varied runners on the course is as notable in the elites as it is in each and every participant in the race. To see the power in the arms of the wheelchair athletes as they literally blow by you is awe inspiring. To watch the determination and resolve of the mobility impaired runners including blind runners and runners with prosthetic limbs reminds me that my challenges are not insurmountable if they can overcome theirs.

Staff Sgt. Jose Luis Sanchez lost a limb in Afghanistan, runs the Boston Marathon carrying the American flag the entire way

For me the marathon itself has become the antithesis of the word can’t. I was a self-described non-runner for much of my life. I would proudly declare “I can’t run” as though saying it somehow exempted me from doing it. I said I can’t in relation to many things in my life for a long time. When I am running a marathon and my body starts to say it can’t go any further something else takes over and keeps it going. A long distance run is much more of a mental challenge than a physical challenge. When you shift your thinking it’s amazing what you can tolerate and overcome. Somewhere in the last 10 years I stopped saying I can’t.

I will run Boston one day. Qualifying would be a momentous achievement for me. Right now I am running an average pace far slower than what I would need to qualify in my age bracket, however, running has certainly taught me that I am capable of going far beyond my comfort zone so I am not ruling out a BQ in my lifetime. I will at least shoot for the moon and if I don’t reach it by a certain age then I will do the next best thing and raise money for a very deserving charity.

For now I am honored to cheer for all of the Boston Marathon runners. If their name is written somewhere on them I shout it. I clap and holler. Many bring tears to my eyes. Each one of those runners has a story of how they got to the starting line. Oh how I would love to know them all. This year Carlos and I went with my friend and her daughter. She is originally from Framingham and knew exactly where to go. We set up a few hundred feet before the 10K marker. It was a great spot. We saw each wave from the wheelchairs to the mobility impaired and on to the elite groups, but perhaps the most exciting waves are those that come after the elites, the everyday runners, like myself who dared to dream big. What it must feel like to realize such a dream. I soak it all up as I try to find answers in their faces and expressions. I will be there one day too!

Elite women’s pack

It is a sea of runners for nearly two hours.

They are still full of pep as they near mile 6.2 although this year the temperature was quickly rising towards 80 degrees and some looked affected by the heat already.

We watched until the fourth and final wave began to thin out. Then we headed home feeling nothing but inspired.