runners continued to finish, he was hustled onto an awards stand where the Ethiopian national anthem was played in his honor.

I stayed on the bridge long enough to watch two Kenyans next cross the line and finally Alan Culpepper, the best finish by an American since Dave Gordon also placed fourth in 1987. With nobody close enough in front to catch and nobody behind to catch him, Culpepper seemed to slow, partly to wave to the crowd, partly to savor the moment.

I couldn’t help reflecting on my best race at Boston, in 1964 when I placed fifth, first American. I cried after crossing the line, partly from joy at my performance but more from a realization that, at age 32, I had given my best shot at the end of my career and would never be quite good enough to win the Boston Marathon. Culpepper is that same age, and I wondered whether he would be back next year or in years to come.

Descending from the bridge, I spotted David McGillivray, now off his motorcycle and checking to see whether all finish line systems were functioning smoothly. I asked how the marathon had gone from an organizational standpoint. “T spotted a few aid tables that I might have moved a foot forward or backward, but nothing major,” he said.

In another half hour, David would accept a ride back to the starting line in Hopkinton and begin his personal Boston Marathon, finishing well after dark but continuing his streak of 33 consecutive Bostons completed. He is eighth on the list of runners with Boston streaks but at age 50 is younger than any of those ranked above him. Tops is Neil Weygandt of Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania, age 58, with 38 completed. The list of runners having completed 25 or more Boston Marathons had 38 leading into this year’s race, only one of them female.

Will one of these individuals eventually equal the recently deceased John A. Kelley, who ran 61 Bostons, completing 58 of them? Possibly, but it is doubtful that the person who does it will have won the race twice.

As I departed the finish area headed for the press room, more to have lunch than to interview athletes, most of the 18,319 runners remained on the course. They would continue crossing the line almost to the time when Dave McGillivray returned from Hopkinton, 17,549 eventually finishing, 95.8 percent of those who started, a good percentage on a warm day.

I wished that I were one of them. Although now in my 70s and having determined several years ago to end my marathoning career on the nice-sounding 111 starts (half-marathons seem friendlier now), my return to the Boston Marathon had made me begin to regret that vow. 2006 would be the 110th running of the world’s oldest continually held marathon, another nice-sounding number. Would I be on the starting line in Hopkinton? It was too soon to decide. i

A Look Back at the 100th Boston Marathon 10 Years Later.

ere you there? Did you attend the greatest rock ’n’ roll gathering of all

time? Woodstock was a one-of-a-kind event attended by thousands. It was a watershed; popular music can be considered in terms of everything that came before it, and then everything that happened and continues to happen afterward. Woodstock still exerts an enormous influence on rock ’n’ roll music.

Were you there? Did you attend the greatest running gathering of all time? The 100th running of the Boston Marathon was also a one-of-a-kind event, attended by thousands. Boston 100 was also a watershed. Everything that came before—the previous 99 Boston Marathons, all of the New York, Chicago, London, and other big marathons—led up to the 100th Boston Marathon. Everything that came after Boston 100—number 101 on up, as well as the subsequent running of other big marathons—has been influenced to some degree by events on that day. Although it seems like only yesterday, that day, April 15, 1996, is now 10 years in our past.

Every big-city marathon has something special to offer. All have excitement, crowds of cheering fans, great and average runners, and some measure of history and tradition. That said, the Boston Marathon still manages to stand out. No other marathon (with the possible exception of the Olympic Marathon) can come close to matching this history and tradition. No other marathon can match the camaraderie, this gathering of kindred souls. No other community provides this much support for a race and its runners. When was the last time you were treated like a king or queen for a weekend, just for being a runner? When was the last time you were able to commune with so many other kings and queens who all have this much in common: for the most part, they all had to qualify to get there, and they will all struggle together. When was the last time you ran in the footsteps of so many great runners throughout history? If you’ve done Boston, you know the answers. More than any other race, the Boston Marathon has always been a pilgrimage for runners. The 100th Boston Marathon was the pilgrimage to end all pilgrimages. Let’s take a look back to one of the most extraordinary days in the history of running.

THE B.A.A.: WHAT WAS IT THINKING?

The Boston Athletic Association (B.A.A.) has presided over the Boston Marathon since its inception in 1897. The organizers decided several years in advance that the 100th running of their race should be a special celebration. They wanted a running-related party that would be remembered as another major milestone in the history of the Boston Marathon. Would they be successful? Would the event live up to its hype?

With Guy Morse as the race director and Dave McGillivray as technical director, the B.A.A. had a great team in place. The event that they were to organize, however, was unprecedented in scope. Having a celebration this big and this elaborate simply hadn’t been done before.

It appears that they were thinking that this event could, and should, be done big. What better way to acknowledge this milestone than to enshrine it for posterity?

THE QUALIFICATIONS WERE REMOVED

One of the most important decisions for an organizer of any celebration to make is whom to invite. The B.A.A. decided to be as inclusive as possible, even though it wasn’t sure where this would lead. The most striking difference between Boston 100 and other Bostons would be the numbers.

The conventional wisdom prior to the event was that Massachusetts’s narrow streets, especially around the start of the race, preclude large numbers of participants. Although the B.A.A. did some experimentation with the numbers in the years leading up to the race, the total number of entrants had not exceeded 10,000. Most experts believed that any further increase would push the limits of what the course and the entire city could accommodate.

The B.A.A. had been controlling the number of runners primarily by restricting the qualifying times. For the 1996 race, organizers decided to still allow qualified runners a guaranteed entry, while others could try to register and be accepted as space permitted—in other words, until the B.A.A. decided it had enough. But how many was enough? They weren’t saying.

THE NUMBERS SKYROCKETED

Registration didn’t close until much later than originally planned. The B.A.A. surprised itself by not limiting the number of entrants as much as it had anticipated. Some still had to be turned away, however. There would be nearly 39,000 runners lined up in Hopkinton on April 15.

Hopkinton is a quaint, small town in semirural Massachusetts. The population of permanent residents is currently about 13,000. Every year on Patriots’ Day, that number doubles or even triples for the start of the marathon. How would it

WELCOME TO HO ALL aS

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A It all started here. The author (far left) with (left to right) Brian Peacock, Rick Jayroe, Garry Watson, and Mike Light in Hopkinton the day before the race.

be able to handle not only the throng of runners but also the countless volunteers, spectators, police, and bandits this time around?

Prior to 1996, runners were bused to the high school and encouraged to stay there (in the gymnasium or outside) until called for the start of the race about three-quarters of a mile down the hill, into the town. Many did so, but others wandered and explored the town, sometimes using bushes or small stands of trees for bathroom needs. The residents must have been horrified at the thought of four or more times the usual number of runners doing those sorts of things.

The answer was an Athlete’s Village. Runners would be strongly encouraged to stay on the high school grounds. The school itself would be closed, but the grounds would have tents with entertainment as well as informational and motivational speakers, including the ever-popular Johnny A. Kelley. There would also be plenty of porta-potties, both in the village and throughout the town.

THE CHIPS WERE DOWN

It wasn’t so long ago that there was no such thing as a ChampionChip. It had been used only in Europe and for the Los Angeles Marathon before the 1996 Boston race. The B.A.A. correctly determined that the risk of using this new technology outweighed the logistical problems of not using it for 39,000 runners. Since then, it’s hard to imagine any large running event without the Chip. Today, some runners have no experience at all in races that don’t use them.

MARATHON WEEK

Boston had endured an extreme amount of snowfall just days before the race. Crews had been busy clearing the roads for days. Would the unseasonable winter weather continue into race day? Would the roads even be clear? The forecasts were shaky. Race officials were duly nervous.

Early in the week, a Boston Marathon Centennial Monument was unveiled. On it, the historic course route was mapped out, set in stone.

The expo had to be expanded to become, you guessed it, the largest running expo ever. It was still held at the Hynes Convention Center, and it was very crowded, but not much more than usual. Special commemorative race T-shirts and hats were given to the runners.

Marathon champions from past years were in attendance at the expo as well as several other events. John A. Kelley, John J. Kelley, Rob de Castella, Amby Burfoot, Bill Rodgers, Kathrine Switzer, Ingrid Kristiansen, Joan Benoit Samuelson, and notably Johnny Miles were among the honored invitees. No fewer than 50 past champions would run the race, wearing numbers corresponding to the year of their victories.

A Friendship Run allowed international runners to participate in a jog in order to commune with other visitors and locals alike.

The pasta dinner—yes, like everything else that weekend, the largest ever—was a grand affair, with more than the usual amount of hoopla and running-related entertainment. This expanded version required an expanded venue, so a shipping warehouse on the harbor was used. A navy captain decided he wanted to run the race, so he pulled his ship up next to the area where the pasta dinner took place and offered runners a tour.

The snow mercifully stopped as race day approached. Hope sprang eternal.

The entire town of Boston buzzed with excitement for the entire week. Excitement and anticipation were everywhere.

THE START

April 15, 1996: the day had arrived. Would the B.A.A. manage to bus 39,000 runners from downtown Boston to the start in Hopkinton in time? Eight hundred buses were required for this logistical challenge. The lines and waits for the buses were long, and the traffic getting into Hopkinton was bad. Somehow, however, everyone managed; no bus-riding runners were even close to being late for the start.

The weather held. In fact, it was fantastic: crystal clear and bright, with temperatures in the 40s and 50s. Yes, there were still piles of snow on the sides of the road, but the roads themselves were fine.

The Athlete’s Village concept worked extremely well. The area was able to accommodate the throng, and the entertainment kept them occupied. Porta-potties

§ z a

A There were still piles of snow on the roadsides from the previous week’s storms as the runners unloaded from the busses and headed towards the Athlete’s Village.

were plentiful, both in the village and throughout the town. Some had long lines, but others had no lines at all. Some runners still managed to avoid the Village and walk around town prior to the start, but this caused no major problems.

11:00 a.m.: It was time to line up for the start. This many had never lined up for a marathon before. That narrow road never looked so narrow. How long would everyone have to wait to begin? Boston places runners in corrals based on their qualifying times. For the 100th running, a lot more corrals were needed and more side streets to place them on.

Noon: All but the elite runners who have done large races know the drill. The gun goes off, the clock starts ticking, and you and the runners around you are still standing there. This, when you should be running—the clock has started, dang it! Of course, this happened in spades on April 15, 1996, but not nearly as bad as even the most optimistic had thought. It took those who had qualified with a three-hour time just a couple of minutes to reach the start. The four-hour crowd reached the start at roughly 20 minutes after the noon start. All of the official entrants had crossed the starting chip pads within 28 minutes of the gun. No one at the B.A.A., even in their wildest dreams, had thought it would go so smoothly. Many of those in the back of the pack had assumed that the elite runners would be crossing the finish line before they had even reached the start!

Dan Horvath

A The start was surprisingly smooth and efficient, and the weather was perfect, as 36,748 runners start on their 26.2-mile journey.

THE RACE

Although the weather was cool, the typical Boston head winds would take their toll on many runners, including some of the elites.

As usual, the race attracted some of the best marathoners from around the world. Included were Uta Pippig, who had won the previous two Boston Marathons, one of them in course-record time. Also included was Cosmas Ndeti, winner of three previous Bostons and also a course record holder.

Uncharacteristically for a great Kenyan runner, Ndeti had been brash about his chances to win for the fourth consecutive year. Uncharacteristically for himself, he began the race in the lead, at world-record pace through 10 miles. He had started conservatively and run strong second halves for his previous victories. Kenya was using this race as qualification for the Olympics, so there was a larger than usual group of great Kenyan men along with a few other East Africans in the lead pack. The pack stayed together until mile 22, when former track star and 1995 runner-up Moses Tanui opened up a lead that would carry him to the finish in 2:09:15. Ndeti was third.

Pippig did start slowly and considered dropping out because of several physical problems, including menstrual cramps. The top runners took turns at the lead early on. The indomitable Tegla Loroupe eventually took a commanding lead. Pippig had persevered, however, and moved into second place behind Loroupe.

Surprisingly, Loroupe faded near the finish, and Pippig took the lead in the last mile, winning in 2:27:12.

The non-elite runners couldn’t help but notice that the narrow roads between Hopkinton and Boston were more crowded than usual. Few complained. Spectators were out in full force—even more than usual for the marathon. All the usual hot spots (Framingham, Natick, Wellesley, Boston College, Commonwealth Avenue) and everywhere in between were brimming with wildly cheering crowds. The volunteers were at their usual best. Everyone sensed that something special was happening.

THE AFTERMATH

Even though this was the 26-mile-long party to end all 26-mile parties, most of the runners were still happy to see that finish line. Many were surprised to not find a chute with people to tear off the number tags. The chip mats and timing ad eliminated the need; all the runners needed to do was to cross over the mats and get their chips off their shoes to hand them in—easier said than done. For many, help was appreciated here as the simple task of bending over to untie a shoe becomes more complicated at the finish of a marathon. The chips had worked exactly as planned and were soon to become a necessity for large races.