The Boston Marathon

The following is a poem in tribute to my favorite ‘big city’ marathon (26.2 mile or 43km footrace) which is now in its 110th year and is the oldest annual marathon in the world.

The Boston Marathon

110 years and still running,
From Hopkinton to ‘Beantown’,
A joyous occasion
For four generations.

A roller coaster ride
That lasts for hours
Through Ashland and Framingham,
Natick and Wellesley,
With thousands of supporters
Cheering the runners
All along the way,
On this Monday in April,
Called Patriot’s Day.

The long uphills start at mile sixteen
When you enter into Newton,
With Heartbreak Hill,
Soon to test your will.
Brookline is next,
And the crowds become thicker
As you finally reach Boston proper,
Where you’ve nearly passed your test
Of endurance and patience,
With only a few miles left.

Now you see the giant Citgo sign
As you approach Kenmore Square,
With a mile to go
You are almost there!
Then you pass Fenway Park
Where the Red Sox are playing.

Now in the heart of the City,
With a right onto Hereford,
And a left onto Boylston,
You can finally see the Finish Line,
So sweet and so near.
Then you give it your all
To finally get to the goal,
In beautifully crowded Copley Square.

When it’s all over you’ll be
One of the thousands and thousands,
From over a century of runners
Who have started and finished
This immortal race.
Fast or slow,
It’s not about pace,
It’s about the courage, the grace,
In toeing the line
26.2 miles back,
And covering the distance
With the rest of the pack,
Through the joys and the pain,
With nothing to lose,
And only Immortality to gain.

– Arpan DeAngelo.

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