On Monday, April 21, I’ll be running the Boston Marathon 60 years after my first Boston in 1965. Since then, I’ve completed Boston another 27 times.
That’s plenty of years to amass a sizable collection of bib numbers, shirts, jackets, medals, and other Boston Marathon swag. But you might be surprised to learn about my favorite Boston Marathon keepsake.
It’s not my mini bib number from 1965, though I wish I had saved that cardboard rectangle. Nor is it any of my more recent bibs.
It’s not one of the dozens of shirts or jackets I’ve collected through the decades, or one of the finisher’s medals scattered around my messy basement.
Sure, My Winner’s Medal Is Special
Okay, I do have a winner’s medal from my marathon victory in 1968. I won’t lie. That one’s not lost in the basement somewhere, it’s set in a cheap wooden frame that I really ought to upgrade. It hangs near the bottom of our central stairway.
Other photos—mainly of my wedding and family highlights—are bigger and occupy more prominent positions around the house.
But, my winner’s medal isn’t my most prized Boston Marathon memento. That honor goes to the “Peace” scarf I received before the 2014 Marathon—the year after the finish-line bomb explosions.
“Where Did You Get Those Scarves?”
My wife, Cristina, and I were cruising the Boston Expo on Saturday afternoon that year when we spotted several runners wearing scarves in the Boston Marathon’s bright blue and gold colors. The Expo was full of stuff for sale. We had no interest.
But we knew immediately that we wanted marathon scarves. We approached several runners to ask, “Where did you get those scarves?”
“Down at Old South Church, next to the finish line. They’re going fast.” That was all we needed to know.
We did a sharp U-turn out of the Expo onto Boylston Street, and began to half-walk, half-jog toward the finish area. “How much do you think they’re going to cost?” Cristina asked.
“No idea,” I said. “Maybe $50. But it’ll be worth it. I can’t imagine anything I’d rather have from this year’s comeback marathon.”
I Thought Nothing Could Top The 100th Boston Marathon In 1996—Until One Did
Cristina and I had both run the 100th Boston Marathon in 1996. It was a spectacular day and event—worth the years of excitement and buildup toward the centennial celebration.
After 1996, I often told runners and friends that there would never be a bigger, more festive, more important marathon day. I mean, how do you beat the 100th running of the world’s oldest and most historic marathon?
Of course, I couldn’t know what lay ahead in 2013. Or that 2014 would bring the tribe back together with a determination and emotion we had never harbored before.
But now I did know. In 2014, all 36,000 runners felt the same jolt of energy as soon as they arrived in Boston. It was absolutely electric, unlike anything I had ever experienced.
Boston citizens were just as stirred up as the runners. A year earlier, during hours of chaos and destruction, they had taken runners into their homes to warm them, feed them, and provide telephone service. Now, as Cristina and I hurried down Boylston Street, they applauded us.
Literally. I’m not kidding. After spotting our see-through runner’s bags, a half-dozen random Bostonians began clapping. “Thanks for coming back,” they said. “Have a great race on Monday.”
Clearly, the 2014 Boston Marathon was going to be the biggest, most celebratory, most memorable marathon of all time. And it was.
How Old South Church Wrapped Thousands Of Runners In Love, Hope, And Hand-Knit Scarves
When we reached Old South Church, Cristina and I saw a gaggle of volunteers with scarves draped over their arms. They were dispensing the scarves to eager runners. We got in line. When our turn came, we asked, “How much?”
“They’re free to all runners,” a kind-faced, gray-haired woman told us. According to a 2022 article by John Barbour in New England Runner, some volunteers followed a script suggested by the church. They handed out scarves, and said, “This scarf was knitted for you with love and courage. Run well. Be safe.”
Hearing these words, many runners burst into tears. Remember, this was the year after the bombings. Runners and their families had reason for concern.
It turned out that several church members had conceived The Scarf Project months earlier. They sent a simple request to knitting groups around the country: Knit blue and gold Peace scarves for this year’s Boston Marathon runners, and send them to us here in Boston. We’ll take care of distribution.
They expected maybe 100 or 200 scarves but eventually received 7,000, each hand-knit in a different pattern with the Boston Marathon’s classic colors. We accepted our scarves gratefully, and made a modest contribution at a nearby collection box.
Last year, for the first time, I attended one of Old South’s “Blessing of the Athletes” services on Sunday. I found it surprisingly inspirational, given that I’m not religious. Then again, before a marathon, who doesn’t contemplate life’s big, unanswerable questions, and seek sustenance from every source?
The idea for these special services came to Rev. Nancy Taylor in 2005. She was the first female senior minister at Old South in the church’s 356-year history. A dozen runners and others attended that inaugural service. In recent years, the crowd has swelled to 2,500.
Old South now holds three services to accommodate everyone. This year, the day before the Boston Marathon will also be Easter Sunday. (This YouTube video is cued to the introduction of the runners at one of last year’s services.)
“The service was a natural for us,” says Taylor, now retired. “Runners don’t need to protect themselves with helmets or armor. It’s about the bare, spare human body—a lot of heart, good lungs, and willpower. It’s an awesome thing, and something the church can bless and celebrate.”
What A Peace Scarf Means To Me
I’ve worn my 2014 Peace scarf to all subsequent Boston Marathon weekends—at the Expo, at runner gatherings, talks, clinics, formal dinners, and shakeout runs. It’s my most prized Boston Marathon memento.
I value it more than all my jackets, T-shirts, bib numbers, and even my winner’s medal.
Here’s why: We enter marathons worldwide, nearly naked in our skimpy running garb, to attempt an essentially meaningless quest—to complete 26.2 miles.
Personally, I want more than that. I seek greater meaning, and I choose peace. Why not?
We gather at the Boston Marathon from all corners of the globe. We break bread together—or at least pass drinks and gels. We run side by side, sometimes with pace teams, always encouraging each other up. Together, we tread a sacred path to the promised land at Copley Square.
They also serve who don’t run with us, but support our quest: family, friends, spectators, officials, first responders, screaming, playful Wellesley women with their “Kiss Me” signs, and anonymous, big-hearted knitters of free, handmade scarves.
Come Together, Right Now
It does us much good, especially in times of rancor and fracture, to join peaceful events that show our connectedness. We run marathons, and we feel our shared human aspirations for health, happiness, family, and community. We are more the same than we are different.
We know we will face hard struggles, but we will overcome. As President Obama said in Boston shortly after the bombings: “We summon the strength that maybe we didn’t even know we had, and we carry on. We finish the race. We finish the race.
“We do that because we know that somewhere around the bend a stranger has a cup of water. Around the bend, somebody is there to boost our spirits. On that toughest mile, just when we think that we’ve hit a wall, someone will be there to cheer us on and pick us up if we fall. We know that.”
I hope you’ll look for me on Boston Marathon weekend. I’ll be the old, thin, white-haired, white-bearded guy with a blue-and-gold scarf around my neck.
Please say hello. I’d like to meet you. We’re all in this together. Let’s make it—and each other—the best that we can.
Peace
