WHY RUN THE BOSTON MARATHON TWICE IN ONE DAY? I HAD A GOOD REASON AND A GREAT INVITATION
HOPKINTON TO BOSTON — Everyone knows the guy up front.
He’s likely run through your town — or continent.
A few strides back, however, I’m surrounded.
Lawyer on my right, “junkie” on my left. They look remarkably fresh; it’s their second marathon of the day.
Next to sidle up is Pete Kostelnick. He’s taking it easy, but has big plans. He’ll be in Australia in late summer to attempt to become the first to average 80 miles of running a day for a month. That’s after he runs 50 miles in 50 states on 50 consecutive days.
We chat behind the waist-length, braided ponytail of Briar-Rose Honeywill-Sykes. She’s 16. A year ago, accompanied by her father (he’s here too), she became the youngest to run across the country.
Her mother, Kirstie-Louise, flat on her back, continuously pumps her arms on a handcycle amid a parade of runners along Route 135. (She won the 2010 handcycle division at Boston despite breaking her arm at mile 8.)
The group passes the already-spotless roads of Natick after the throat-scarred Wellesley College girls have retreated to their dorms. Heartbreak Hill has contorted itself back into a calm Comm Ave.
Like the 100th edition and the year after the bombings, this run to Boston was not to be missed. Runners of all ages, from every corner of the country, turned out to trot with the guy at the front: Dave McGillivray.
He "runs" the Boston Marathon as its race director before jumping in a car bound for Hopkinton to … run the Boston Marathon. For his 50th run — the first 15 as an official runner — a crowd of 30 turns out. The usual field is fewer than eight.
The run begins promptly at 3 p.m. and finishes in a lit-up city after sunset — the reason we’re referred to as “night runners.”
With help from three state troopers on motorcycles, we pass through town centers and red lights with ease. A 15-passenger support van piloted by Ron Kramer — the lead vehicle coordinator for the actual Marathon — serves as a rolling water stop, supplying a place to hydrate, consume calories and stretch cramped muscles.
Every two miles, Kramer and crew greet us with encouragement and much-needed fuel. When McGillivray walks, we walk. The much-needed breaks are key for the quartet who already ran 26.2 miles:
Ohio’s Chuck Engle, finisher of more than 450 marathons, has won one in all 50 states. He calls himself the “Marathon Junkie.” (Who could argue?)
Connecticut lawyer Josh Cohen, one of, fittingly, seven runners who joined McGillivray in 2018 to complete the World Marathon Challenge (7 marathons in 7 days on 7 continents).
Becca Pizzi, of nearby Belmont, another 7-7-7 runner who manages an ice cream shop; she has a flavor named for her: Becca 7.
Roy Pirrung, 73, one of the many “cheeseheads” in our midst. The Wisconsin native and former smoker is a member of the American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame.
The “night runners” roster also included two doctors (Iowa’s Deb Carneol and Wisconsin’s Stephen Sehring), the former president of the Florida/Miami Marlins (David Samson), Cape Cod-raised triathlete and current Californian Eric Gilsenan and a former letter carrier from Hope, Idaho: Mike Ehredt.
Like McGillivray, Ehredt has twice run across the country. His coast-to-coast runs honored service members who died in Iraq and Afghanistan. He planted a flag each mile he ran in their honor.
And then there is Dave. He failed in his first attempt at Boston in 1972 as a 17-year-old. A year later, he tried again. At mile 21.5 in Newton, he nearly dropped out. But the memory of his grandfather — who had recently died and was buried at a nearby cemetery — kept him going. He finished and vowed to run the race every year for the rest of his life.
Our run came to an abrupt halt Monday at that same spot near Evergreen Cemetery when Dave was presented with a poster-sized, black-and-white picture of his grandfather, who was captured sitting on a porch chair. An accompanying quote reads: “You’ve earned this Dave … now finish the race! — Grandpa Eaton.”
He indeed finished, greeted by an adoring crowd at a dark finish line. A medal was draped around his neck and he leaned in for hugs. Dave’s day, which also began in the dark, was not yet complete.
Among the jubilation, he found Joyce Wade of Cincinnati, who had been waiting patiently on Boylston Street.
Her husband, Paul, would have celebrated his 58th birthday on Monday by running the Marathon; he had run a Boston qualifier (BQ) in 2019. After he died last August, Joyce wanted to honor him for the 26.2 miles he wasn’t able to run.
Dave did so by presenting her with the bib (No. 100) with which he ran.
Joyce’s blue-and-yellow T-shirt read “No BQ left behind.” Leave it to Dave to put a smile on her face.
That’s why he’s the guy up front.