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"It's indescribable,'' exclaims Mary Peters of St. Pete Beach, who calls last week's Boston Marathon unforgettable..
By JON WILSON
© St. Petersburg Times, published April 22, 2001
ST. PETERSBURG -- The enormity of the Boston Marathon -- the essence of it beyond being a simple footrace -- hit Mary Peters at Wellesley College.
Wellesley is halfway through the 26.2-mile route from Hopkinton to downtown Boston. Every year, college women cluster at roadsides to cheer the runners.
But to say they cheer is not doing them justice.
Signs warn runners to expect a rising decibel level. The whooping is audible a half-mile away and when you hear it, the hair on your arms and neck stands straight.
As the women crowd the course, it funnels into a close-quarters bottleneck. The din hammers away all other sound, runners and the women of Wellesley make eye contact, high-fives crackle, tears spill. It is a bubble of mutual affection among strangers, and it sweeps away all pain.
Said Peters: "These girls are just shrieking at the top of their lungs. They're shrieking your name. I nearly broke up. Tears are running down their faces. I had to touch all their hands. I don't know how many hands I touched. The noise is just deafening, to the point where it's musical.
"I thought I was going to pass out because my heart was in my throat. I was totally choked. Now I know what it means to be choked with emotion."
Such is the mystery of the Boston Marathon.
Peters, 45, is a St. Petersburg police department major in charge of training and recruiting. She ran her first Boston Marathon on Monday, her fifth 26.2-miler overall.
A St. Pete Beach resident whose regular Thursday runs start at Woody's Waterfront Grille near Blind Pass, Peters ran three marathons in the early to mid-1990s. Then she drifted away from running.
Three years ago, thinking she was having a heart attack because of chest pain, she went to an emergency room. The problem turned out to be complications from an ulcer.
"But it scared me enough to realize I needed to get back in shape," Peters said. A stint at the FBI academy helped her re-enter a healthy lifestyle.
On a warm day last December, Peters ran the Hops Marathon by the Bay in Tampa fast enough to qualify for Boston, which requires entrants to meet time standards based on age.
The 105th Boston Athletic Association Marathon brought Peters an unforgettable experience.
"It's indescribable," she said. "I never understood what people were trying to say before."
The Wellesley women aren't the only crowd on the course. Spectators line most of the route, sometimes 10 deep. They pass out candy, drinks, even beer for those who crave it. And they cheer.
Peters got a rush by touching hands with youngsters along the route. "It's almost like they infuse energy into you. If you're feeling a little tired, just touch one of those little hands."
A series of rises at the 19- to 20-mile mark culminates in the infamous Heartbreak Hill. Said Peters: "I felt really tired after a while. I never hit a wall before," referring to a phenomenon where runners simply run out of energy. "Then I wasn't tired anymore. Someone said, "You just finished Heartbreak!' "
Peters said there were so many runners and spectators, she received no visual cue that she had reached what is considered running's most legendary hill.
On the home stretch down Boylston Street, the cheering bounced off tall buildings, and Peters finished in a cascade of sound. "I hope they understand what they're doing for those runners. They're making a lifetime memory," Peters said.
Denise Pentony, a friend who flew from Seattle to Boston for the occasion, met Peters with flowers a few minutes later.
She finished in three hours, 49 minutes and nine seconds, a starting-line-to-finish-line time recorded by computer chip.
It was fast enough to qualify her for next year's race.