The Boston Marathon and Stealth Blessings

 

On the day of the Boston Marathon, I had what I call a stealth blessing—one of those blessings that come disguised as nuisance.

The day started early, mostly because Larry couldn’t sleep. Unlike the other marathons he’s run, the Boston Marathon started mid-morning. He didn’t actually cross the starting line until 10:50 a.m. Still, wanting to be Johnny on the Spot, he left our apartment around 6 a.m.

Because we had a 5:30 a.m. flight on Tuesday, we moved from our apartment to a hotel closer to the airport, and picked up a rental car.

While Larry was running, I played spectator at Heart Break Hill, because Larry specifically wanted me cheering him on the hardest part of the race. I parked in a shopping center about a mile from the course that was also near a train station, so, after Larry passed by, I could hop on the train in time to watch him cross the finish line.

Sadly, the trains were jammed. Three trains came and went, each about 20 minutes apart. When the last train arrived, I told myself if I couldn’t get on, I would give up on trying to get into the city, especially since at this point I knew Larry would beat me to the finish line.

I did make it on a train, although it was a sardine’s situation. Along the way, I dropped my water bottle and since bending to retrieve it was an impossibility, I thought I’d never see it again. Luckily, someone who had a seat rescued it and several people played pass the baton with it until it returned to me. Finally, I arrived in the city, and the celebration was worth the wait and stranger hugging.

Larry and I reunited, stood in line for so his medal could be engraved, wandered around in the crowd, cheering those still crossing the finish line, and, eventually, once again braved the train, walked to the where I’d parked the car, and drove to the hotel where I dropped Larry off, and then I went to fill the car with gas since I didn’t want to try and do that at 4 a.m. That very long run-on sentence was to let you know that, even though I hadn’t run the marathon, I had walked about eight miles that day and had spent about six hours on my feet. I was tired. Not as tired as Larry, but still tuckered out.

On our drive to the hotel, we passed several signs telling us the TWT Tunnel would be closed on Tuesday morning until 5 a.m. Since we hadn’t driven through a tunnel, we assumed that the tunnel didn’t impact our route to the airport.

Once we were finally back at the hotel and ready to kick back and relax, I realized I had left my IPad at our other rental, which was 30 minutes south of Boston. So, I got back in the car and on my way to the rental, I realized we would indeed need to take the TWT Tunnel to get to the airport the next morning.

Fortunately, I found my IPad at where we had previously stayed, refilled the car with gas, and made it back to the hotel without mishap.

The next morning, I checked Apple’s GPS and it had me taking the TWT Tunnel. But I had seen all the signs. I didn’t trust it. So, I checked Google’s GPS, and it had us take a very circuitous route, bypassing the tunnel—which I took.

Here’s the stealth blessing: I’m sure that if I hadn’t gone back for my IPad, we would have missed our early morning flight. Which makes me wonder how many other stealth blessings—those mishaps disguised as nuisances—have I missed?

Larry finished the marathon, but it took him 30 minutes longer than he had expected or hoped. The course was more challenging than he had expected. On the day after the marathon, he said he might do it again in ten years. A week later, he said he wants to run it again but train harder.