Going the distance

The Boston Marathon came and went just yesterday. For those not familiar with how big an event this is, most of the city shuts down for it. Sure, they say it's for "Patriots' Day", a holiday I didn't think was real until moving to Massachusetts, but when you've got tens of thousands of runners making it impossible to go across town, you might as well close up shop and watch. BC gave us the day off, at any rate.

One leg of the race happened to be really close to where I live so I decided to see firsthand what a river of people actually looks like. On my way to the race, and it being a nice day, I decided to stop off for some ice cream to eat while watching. It was only when I got up to the barricade that separated the spectators from the runners did I realize that stuffing my face full of ice cream in front of people who had already put in about 22 miles of running was about the meanest thing I've ever done.

Not pictured: The Ice Cream of Shame
After then discretely eating the ice cream, I sat and watched people go by me. Lots of people. I don't know the exact number of people in the event, but I saw runners wearing numbers that were up in the mid-20,000's. This doesn't even take into consideration the non-registered runners - people who decided to hop into the race for however long and go for it.

About a half hour into this high-speed parade, it started becoming surreal. I know from friends and family that a marathon is not something you can just "decide to do". It takes an incredible amount of training and conditioning to be able to make it the full 26.2 miles. I may have only seen each runner go 50 or so yards, but each step I saw them take yesterday required hundreds or thousands in preparation. Multiply this effort by the total number of runners in the marathon, and enormity of it all was pretty humbling.


It went on like this for miles. Literally.
In the end, I'm not sure what I personally took away from the experience. On the one hand, my mind was racing with speculation as to what would motivate each of these tens of thousands of runners. Do they do it for personal pride, to show that they can? Do they run for someone else? Do they run for charity? Do they run because they want to compete, either against others or against themselves? Each runner's demeanor, labored facial expressions, and sometimes even clothing offered minor glimpses into what compelled these people to run. It was never a complete picture, but it was also hard not to be inspired.

Other the other hand, the race was a sober reminder that no matter how hard you think you are working towards something, there's always someone else working just as hard, if not harder. This isn't to say everyone raced for the same reasons, but no one seemed willing to stop short of the finish line. I saw great parallels between this reality and the one I live at business school, itself just a controlled microcosm of the business world.

Either way, it was a heck of an afternoon. Only in Boston.

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The Kindness of (Former) Strangers

I wrote this for my blogging duties at the BC admissions blog, but I figure I'd share here as well. I am so lucky to be at such an awesome program.

It’s not everyday that you get to see just how great of a community you’ve become a part of. My story begins just yesterday.

Before we begin, here’s a little background you may need to know: I walk to school from Brighton center, a 30 minute walk. I also carry a large backpack and a laptop bag, which conservatively has me trekking along 50 or so pounds of extra stuff. And while the dress code here at BC is business casual, I always make the trip in sneakers (just more comfortable that way).

Yesterday started as any other for me. I woke up reluctantly fighting my alarm clock, took a shower, grabbed some pop-tarts and it was off to school. I was fairly preoccupied thinking about the Economics midterm I had later that day that the time just seemed to fly by. Before I knew it, I was near the BC T-stop, getting ready to cross the street when all of a sudden, I noticed my shoe was coming untied. Fairly annoyed by it, I decided to tie it once and for all when I got across the street. But just I started to bend down to tie my shoe…

“AHHHH!” I shouted loud enough for people within a half-mile radius to hear me. I sprained my back. How could I have not thought to take off my stuff? Ok, time to think. I’m almost at class, let me just see if I can hobble- OW, nope that’s not going to work.

Thankfully, being so close to school, I ran into a few of my classmates. They were gracious enough to take my bags and limp with me for about as far as I could go. This turned out to be a distance of about 50 feet - I was in that much pain. Shortly thereafter came even more aid - another classmate saw us as he was driving and gave us a lift. We were able to drive up to the top floor of a nearby parking garage, thereby greatly shortening our walk to Fulton. With their help, I was able to limp into my seat and got through my IT class where I literally didn’t move in my seat for the next 2 hours.

As soon as class ended, I planned to go see health services. Note I used the word “planned” here because I never even made it out of the classroom. I tried, but after walking a few feet I realized my back had tightened during class and made moving on it even worse. I had to sit back down. Our IT professor, Professor Fichman, then called health services for me and wheeled me in the chair I was sitting to the back of Fulton hall. There, I waited with another one of my classmates for an ambulance that would take me to a hospital (health services knew they couldn’t do anything for me). They stood there with me for 20 minutes in the cold, just to make sure I was ok.

Later, at the hospital, I realized I wasn’t going to make it back in time for my Economics mid-term. Several classmates were willing to tell the professor my situation and see what I could do about making it up. I was even able to speak to the professor afterwards, and he was completely understanding. After my stay at the hospital, yet another classmate came from their mid-term and picked me up to take me home because, by this time, I was on some heavy pain medication and couldn’t get there myself.

I’m the kind of person who hates to feel helpless. My back may still sprained, but I would be far worse off if it weren’t for the concern, the support, and the help of countless classmates and professors. My belief in the strength of the Boston College community has increased tenfold, all from the small acts of kindness from these former strangers.

This is not the pain meds talking when I say that these are some of the absolute best people you could ever hope to surround yourself with.

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