Monday morning was lovely. It was crisp but not too cool. My son and I parked at the home of friends in nearby Hopkinton, MA, and walked to the center of town.
Food stands and port-a-potties had sprouted up around the green. My son said the air smelled like “state fair,” a heady mix of fried food and generator exhaust.
When the elite runners finally took off, they gone in a blur. Others followed, and some who ran close to the crowd gave high-fives to onlookers along the way.
The Boston Marathon is like a 26.2 mile thread that links the Western suburbs with the city.
We’ve all seen how Monday’s race ended. But here’s how the day and the race began: with sunshine, fried food, high-fives, and smiles.