MarathonManiacs come in all sizes, speeds, distances, and frequencies. All who meet the criteria of the Bronze level on the criteria board are truly phenomenal, and equal in standing in the club, that is, as long as you keep standing.

Out of the friendly mix of folks in our club came the discussion that some see others of us as beyond phenomenal, performing feats that fascinate even other MarathonManiacs.

We don’t ever want anyone to feel intimidated by the stories or the bulletin board. Differing abilities, good and bad days, none of that separates us in any way in our club.

So we asked one of our own a couple of months ago to comment on what he sees in all of this, when he described his own performances as “a bit all over the back side of the map”. The Main Maniacs hope the Rev’s comments add to helping everyone feel welcome and part of what we think is the best marathon club going.

So, for any who hesitate at words like “100-miler” and “Quadzilla”, be reassured you are not alone out there. We are glad for and welcome all Maniacs!

From the desk of Rev.

MegaManiacs wonder in which corral they are in at the first wave in Boston.

MiniManiacs wonder which corral in Boston their friends are in, so they can wave!

MegaManiacs already know, or have met, or hope to meet “the one, the only,” Maniac Hero, Dick Beardsley!

MiniManiacs probably have never met Dick Beardsley, and wonder who the h*** he is.

{Relax. You, Dear Uncertain Reader, needn’t be embarrassed. Long-distance running has such a vast and wonderful history, present, and future, and consequently an overwhelming number of facts, stories, personalities, strategies, training methods, books, magazines, web-sites, bandages, orthotics, races, distances, calendars, special herbs, gu’s, gels, and spices to be digested, not to mention discounts if you beat the entry deadlines, sticks to massage out the cramps, team events, all-night, bring-your-flashlight events, running shoes, training shoes, no shoes, running sandals, socks, socklets, vaselines and glides, and sixtyleven charities to raise thousands for, all swirling around something you got into just for a little fun and fitness is all. The whirlwind creates for anybody, even the most enthusiastic MiniManiac, an inevitable level of ignorance about something.

Fortunately for us, our genuinely fearless leaders are very patient with us, smiling at us at finish lines (well, those we reach before sundown) and patting us on the back for all of our humble and not-so-humble feats. I’m pretty certain even Mr. Beardsley will forgive us if we do not recognize him.

Nevertheless, we Minis carry a collective embarrassment level due to our newness to the sport. That is why we can’t go creating our own special singlet. It would have to be a lavish blushing pink. Too many of us would look lousy in a lavish blushing pink.}

Dear Fellow MarathonManiacs, and we Minis in particular,

Boston. “Boston” doesn’t need two names.

In Marathon and Beyond’s special edition dedicated to Boston, we read that part of the reason entry is so coveted is that one must qualify. You have to earn it. On the face of it, it seems worth working, sacrificing, dieting, and training extra hard to be a part of this historical event.

A few maniacs have not achieved that goal. Some of us won’t ever. Some of us will. Some of us will try, not knowing the ultimate outcome (that’s me, no matter how delusional I’m being). Is the attempt worth it?

We found among our own one who is now uniquely able to address the question: a Mini who did not qualify, yet received an official invitation into Boston. He addressed the “worth the training?” question with me.

Rev: You don’t want people to know who you are? Why?

Anon: I got into Boston. Thousands have sweated millions of miles, and still haven’t quite qualified. I got a free pass, all above board too. I hesitated, then did the only rational thing. I thanked them, and ran before they had second thoughts.

Rev: Thanked who?

Anon: I got the invitation by surprise, through a little luck and a little pluck. I made a friend through the bulletin board at marathonguide, who said she started marathons too fast and had not yet qualified for Boston, and did I have any ideas. So, at an autumn marathon, to give her a s-l-o-w early pace, I ran my legs off for 17 miles, then let her go (there wasn’t nearly as much oxygen on my side of the street, clearly), and she took off, finished strong, and earned her Boston Qualifier (BQ) easily. She was delighted, and wrote to a thoughtful, evidently important chap in the running community, asking if he could find a Boston bib for me. He in turn contacted a friend at a huge sneaker company.

Rev: They make really, really big sneakers?

Anon: You are a bit daft. The sneaker company was a Boston sponsor. Sponsor dollars get them a few exempt bibs. So, against all odds, a bib was given to me through him. If I hadn’t been a Maniac myself last year, I wouldn’t have had the chutzpah to accept it.

Rev: So we can’t get in the same way?

Anon: I’m not yet sure I believe yet that it happened to me, except I’ve got this picture of me in Hopkinton, and another, white as a ghost, at the finish line, so I suppose it did. … I don’t know. It was a favor. …Maybe if you buy a lot of really huge sneakers.

Rev: So you’ve run Boston now. From the back, I guess? Was that alright?

Anon: Perfectly fine. Pace was fine, and there was room to maneuver. I think the cheeseburger guy might have had only a few burgers left by the time I got there, but I’ve never been offered so many oranges by spectators before in all my other races combined.

Rev: The Cheeseburger Guy?

Anon: Yeah, that was a first too. Guy handing out cheeseburgers. Great spectators everywhere. All of Boston and its western suburbs came out. NY and Chicago may have more people, but these folks treated it like the holiday it was, a real regional pride thing.

Rev: Many marathons claim that they are special, and their spectators friendly. This was different?

Anon: I got to 13 and heard this high-pitched roar up ahead. I couldn’t see the cause at first. Turns out, the women students of Wellesley College acted like we runners were rock stars. They were waving, and cheering, and half a dozen held up signs saying “kiss me”, but, heh heh, well, you know, the Mrs. might not have thought that so funny.

The men of Boston College and Boston University were out in force also, but they were drunk, most of them, some cheering, others heckling. I picked up one of their footballs lying in the street, and made ‘em chase me to get it back. Imagine this: mile 19, I’m dying, going uphill, and these young fellows were afraid, mind you, that they wouldn’t be able to catch me. Fastest 70 yards I’d run in the prior five miles, then I tossed it to their best. Maybe they’ll switch to Lite Beer by next year. Never thought I’d have so much fun scaring somebody. Liked it so much, did it again a mile later to another bunch. “Hey, toss me the ball,” I said innocently. College kid did. “Thanks!” I hollered back, and kept going. Heh heh heh. 50 more yards sprinted. Probably knocked 6 minutes off my time, those two sprints.

There were the usual crowds of families and old-timers, but they were cheering more like it was a special parade than a race. The whole day had that “something special” feeling to it.

And when I turned onto Boylston Street for the final few blocks, I realized I was running where history had been made many times before. Oh, the TV cameras had been turned off long before I got there, but this was Boston, and everyone was celebrating that.

Rev: So you’ve run it once. You don’t have to train for it now.

Anon: Oh, no, quite the opposite. I had the goal in front of me, and it often got me out there on days I might not have run. And then, Surprise!, I got in prematurely, and I thought that might do it.

But it has only increased my desire to qualify. Once in doesn’t get you in again you know. Now I’m really motivated to get back there. It was entirely memorable, every bit of it.

Truthfully, I don’t know if I will ever be able to qualify; my legs aren’t getting any younger. But I want to see the quaint New England villages again on their unique holiday, from inside the curbs. I want to go through and really be a part of Natick’s center square’s celebration. Wouldn’t mind another wink or two in Wellesley either, heh heh. And then to see those office skyscrapers in Boston, and pass near Fenway Park… I want to go back now more than I wanted to go in the first place.

Found out Boston is a great town, a great city to visit. I’d make a longer week-end out of it next time. Never saw so many flowers in the center of an east coast city before. Lots of Revolutionary era spirit and landmarks there too. Shut me up anytime you like.

Rev: What about the medal?

Anon: The medal is smaller than some, and the shirt is cotton and plain. But understated can be a good thing.

The best surprise of that sort was a special Marathon and Beyond magazine in the goodie bag, all about Boston. I’ve been reading it, and now I can meet Dick Beardsley. I had heard his name, but wasn’t quite certain who he was in the grand scheme of things. Suppose I should have looked him up somewhere. Turns out he and a fellow named Salazar put on an unbelievable race on a hot Boston day in ’82. Some think it might be the greatest Boston of them all, and here he’s a member of our club! It is a great story. You ought to read it if you haven’t.

Rev: Any final thoughts?

Anon: I’d appreciate it if you didn’t put it quite that way, there, Reverend.

Well, Boston was wonderful, a genuine WOW, a legendary run, and the run of legends it is said to be.

I have got to give it a shot, to try to qualify. Got to do some things differently though… revolutionize the diet for a year…ice cream, pie, gone... butter, grease, red meat out… that happy girl Slug is a vegetarian. Don’t think I’ll go that far, but who knows?

Rev: What about your training?

Anon: Oh, I’ve seen some of the books, and there’s plenty of interesting approaches out there. I’m already increasing my miles and the number of days I run them. More technical than that, we’ll see. This is really just fun for me. So maybe I’ll just ask my neighbor to let his dog chase me…or, I remember reading how AnNiE won so often, maybe I’ll just start chanting “annIE, annIE, annIE” in my head…

Somebody gave me this idea. I’ve put Boston postcards on the bathroom mirror, the refrigerator, the dashboard, the dresser. I want to make it. Shoot, I’m thinking of hanging a picture on the nose of my dog. I’ve got one little painting my wife bought for me framed in the living room on the piano.

I’m going back. Might cost me a new wardrobe and hunger pains and whatnot, but if I get there again, I’ll be chuckling all day long. Until, oh, 20 or so….