March to the Sea: Larry, This Race Matters

This Monday is Patriots Day in Massachusetts, which means two things: 11 a.m. Red Sox at Fenway and the all-day, spectacular Boston Marathon.

Growing up in Massachusetts, I used to attend the annual Marathon every year. I would stand roadside with my parents and friends, handing out small cups of water to thirsty runners. We would watch the lead pack dash past us and then stick around for hours, helping hoards of “regular Joes” struggle up Heartbreak Hill with drinks and encouragement. Not only did I feel like we were adding to community spirit, but I thoroughly enjoyed participating as a fan.

There are some outstanding people who run in Boston with amazing stories. For the last 22 years, 61-year old Dick Hoyt has pushed his son, Rick, in a wheelchair the entire 26.2 miles. Rick, who is 40, has had cerebral palsy since birth. He does not have the ability talk and is completely paralyzed. But he can smile. And every year, as Dick and Rick race by, hours behind the lead runners, they always get the loudest cheers.

There are other unique and inspiring stories to be told by marathoners. People run for cancer foundations or run to test their aging bodies. Others try to make it for the first time and often do not fully realize the emotional highs of crowd support or the terrible lows of heartbreak hill. Some just run for good exercise.

Whatever the reason, the Boston Marathon is like no other event in Boston. Over a million people participate as an athlete or as a fan, lining up five and six deep on street sides from the start in Hopkinton to the finish line in downtown Boston.

And where are the Harvard students during this real-life “Amazing Race?”

They’re in class.

For some reason, we don’t get Patriots Day off at Harvard. Why not? Boston University gets the day off.

Wellesley is closed for the day, too. In fact, Wellesley students have gained national fame for being the loudest and most numerous cheerleaders during the marathon. Hundreds of runners have credited their finishing the race to the massive Wellesley cheering section camped out at the half-way point in the race.

Two-time Boston Marathon champion Uta Pippig once said that she “needed” Wellesley fans to come out in droves to push her. Pippig publicly asked that Wellesley professors “give students some free time in the few days [before the marathon] to protect their voices for the race.” In 1992, Kenyan runner Ibrahim Hussein actually had to stick his fingers in his ears as he ran by en route to victory.

Wouldn’t it be nice if Harvard students had the opportunity to act in a similar fashion? We wouldn’t have to go insane like Wellesley, but decent support could turn into a special tradition that would be a positive externality to all involved.

Yeah, that’s your language, President Summers. You have claimed to be a patron of athletics. The Boston Marathon is arguably the most prestigious road race in the United States. It occurs on a holiday that is not only special to locals but is also recognized by numerous neighboring schools that close for the day and allow their students to celebrate by being part of a supportive community.

No one wants to be in school on a beautiful Patriots Day when the rest of our surrounding is outside enjoying life. Professors, administration, janitors, TFs, you name it—no one would object to taking Patriots’ Day off. April 19 is a Boston sports lover’s dream. Many will just skip class anyway, but some diligent souls with tests to take might actually show up against their wishes.

Last year, I had an hourly exam on Patriots Day and could not attend the marathon. It was the first time since I was four years old that I did not go. I thought it would be great to be at Harvard, where I could take college friends and really enjoy the day. Instead, I sat in class for three hours and had to watch the six o’clock news for brief highlighted footage.

President Summers, it’s time for you to take a stand. Let us live.