Boston Marathon April Series: A Love Letter to the Boston Marathon
This is fourth and final post of the Boston Marathon April Series from Coach Kelly. Be sure to read parts one, two, and three from the previous weeks. In this final post, Coach Kelly reflects on the transformative journey from trauma to healing running her final Boston Marathon. Discover why she chose joy over pace and what 26.2 miles taught her about resilience.
“The marathon is too far and too fickle to be tamed by your intentions. The truth is: the marathon will take from you everything you brought, and more. That’s its guarantee. And that’s why we love it.”
Peter Bromka, a runner and writer (and idol of mine), wrote these words about the marathon in his 2018 piece, “The Marathon Doesn’t Owe You Anything.” And while I wholeheartedly agree, the marathon distance, in fact, doesn’t owe you anything… the Boston Marathon gave me everything.
This past Monday, I toed the start line in Hopkinton, preparing to run what would be my twelfth and final Boston Marathon. To say this was a bittersweet day would be an understatement. Over the last thirteen years, the Boston Marathon has been a driving force in my life. In my third installment of this blog from a couple weeks ago, I went into great detail about my first Boston in 2013 and the profound impact this race and this day had on my life. Following that race, I was determined to find new purpose. Before 2013, distance running was more of a hobby for me—something that started as a way to stay in shape in college, which then morphed into a bit of a hyper-fixation following my first marathon in 2008, and then my goal of running Boston was achieved in 2013. However, after the bombing, I was determined to give back to running. After some very dark months following the traumatic events of that day, I dove headfirst into distance running. And when I received an invitational bib for the 2014 Boston Marathon, my entire outlook changed. Running the year after the bombing was truly a transformative experience. What felt like the entire city came out and lined the course, #BOSTONSTRONG signs were everywhere, the conditions were perfect, and it was an emotional and magical day. From that day on, I was determined to qualify every year to get into Boston… and after 2014, my first BQ finally happened.
After a couple years of running for just the “vibes” of Boston, and coming off my PR of 2:58:08 in Chicago, I decided to really try to run Boston for time in 2017. That year I ran with a fast friend of mine, and the vibe was completely different. In fact, there was no vibe at all. I spent the entire course glued to my watch, focused on my pacing, not taking in a single second of the iconic course. I probably didn’t even smile once. Did I PR on the course that day? Yes, I did… I ran a 3:06. But did I have fun? Not at all. I remember limping back to my apartment on Commonwealth Ave after and even though we had friends in town to celebrate, I could barely even eat a single bite of food. I remember them asking me the highlights of the course, and I couldn’t remember a single thing. The only thing I remember is leaving my friend at mile 14 because she was struggling, and instead of being a good friend and running partner and stopping or slowing down with her, I just left her. She eventually caught back up to me, but I still regret that moment to this day. Looking back at the runner Kelly of 2017, I barely recognize her. And I still don’t remember anything else about this race, with the exception of the time on the clock when I finished.
Fast forward to the next few Bostons. While I was proud of my time from 2017, I didn’t want to miss a single second of Boston, ever again. In 2019, I even ran the race without a watch as an ode to my determination to take in the vibes as opposed to what my watch said. While it was anxiety provoking for me to run without my trusted Garmin, it was an absolute vibe. I paced with people who I ended up chatting with the entire first ten miles of the race, and then as able to soak up the excitement of the day without distraction the whole back half of the race. I committed from then on to run Boston for vibes only, not for time.
Even without a watch, my time in 2019 earned me a qualifying time for 2020, which was…cancelled. Covid led to a cancelled race in April 2020, but in typical Kelly fashion, I ran the entire course on the day the race was scheduled to be, solo, with my wife riding a BlueBike alongside me the whole way. That day ended up being a cold, snowy one, so it was just Emily and I running/riding the entire course without another soul in sight. While not an official Boston marathon race, this day will forever be a core memory for me.
One of the most interesting Boston races I ran was the 2021 race, which was held in October due to the COVID sanctions. The start was a rolling start in that when you arrived at the start line you could just… go. I remember walking to the corral, noticing no one was there, and a volunteer asking me if I was going to take any of my layers off before starting. I was so confused because there was no set starting gun, no crowded corrals, nothing. This was a once in a lifetime experience, and while the spectators on the course were different than usual, it was very cool to be a part of this.
Bostons 2022, 2023, and 2024 were all very much the same for me—unforgettable, incredible experiences. I qualified for all of these races at other marathons, so committed to running these for the vibes only. My wife also ran in 2023, so it was amazing to be able to go to the start line and athlete’s village with her, and then cheer for her at the finish line. This was the first time that I was a “spectator” for the race, and I remember hobbling through the Prudential Center after I finished to be able to catch her flying down Boylston to the finish line.
Boston 2025 was a new experience for me. Despite earning a qualifying time, the BAA adjusted the standards and due to the high number of qualifiers, even though I had a few minutes’ buffer, I didn’t make the cutoff to qualify for the first time in years. I remember being devastated. I even did an interview on a local news station about how competitive the qualifying standards had gotten. Luckily, a client and good friend of mine had a connection to a bib for me, so I was incredibly fortunate enough to be able to run the race again. This was the first year I had started in a charity corral since my first Boston, so it was a completely different vibe than other years. In other corrals, I was surrounded by runners who were truly running Boston just for time, serious runners who didn’t seem to be having much fun, if we are being honest. They all stood in the village before and in the corral discussing their qualifying races and the paces they were hoping to hold that day. Starting in the fundraising corrals was so much more fun. People were dancing, singing, cheering, doing each others’ hair and painting their faces with glitter. There was so much joy. Once again, I ran in 2025 for fun, not for time.
Fast forward to 2026. Once again, I was incredibly lucky enough to get another bib from that same close friend, but I knew that I wanted this to be my last year running. With a baby on the way and a move to Maine happening in the next couple of months, I not only felt guilty relying on others for an entry—I wanted to let someone else have the chance to run this iconic race—I also knew that I would never be able to find the time to fundraise or commit to the high fundraising minimums in the coming years. I also wanted to run my last Boston on my own terms. My goals for running have changed, and running for speed is simply not in the cards or something that brings me joy anymore. Knowing that I would never qualify for this race, and wanting to make sure my last Boston was a perfect day, was a priority for me.
As the day got closer to this year’s race, the weather was starting to look like ideal conditions for runners - including a slight tailwind! During my long runs this year, desires to chase new goals and try new things started to creep in, but I felt that if this year’s weather was crappy (like the entire winter here in New England was!), I would reconsider doing Boston again. However, with my newfound interest in strength training and trail running, and some stroller 10Ks and half marathons in my future, I committed to making this year my last Boston Marathon and take in every second of this iconic day and iconic race.
And Monday truly delivered. While the morning was chilly, the spectators were out in full force, especially from mile 10 on. I put on my best gold glitter (unicorn dust), pinned my orange corral bib to my tank, and drove out to the start line with my wife and pups, as part of our tradition for the past few years. The morning was bittersweet for me. I was sad to know this would be the last time I’d be in Athlete’s Village, but would not miss the cold, wet ground, and the never ending lines for the porta-potties. I would also not miss the late start time—my 11:21 start made me feel incredibly hungry and nauseous for the entire race—but thank god for lots of nerds gummy clusters along the course!
Running this year was incredibly inspiring and also very humbling. My training this year was very unconventional. I put a massive focus on strength training and ran less mileage throughout the week than I ever have before, and the brutal winter conditions made my long runs on the weekends interesting and creative, to say the least. Did I train to run this race for speed? Absolutely not. The hills rocked me, and I felt like I was hobbling at points, and I ran my slowest marathon in almost a decade… but none of that mattered to me. I honestly did not give one single f*ck about my time. I went into this race with the sole goal of taking in every single second, stopping to hug everyone I know and love, eat lots of gummy clusters, and remember every step down Boylston. And I checked every single box on Monday. Did it hurt?
Absolutely. Arguably, it hurt more than any race I’ve done in recent memory. Was it worth it?
Absolutely.
Over the last decade (plus), the Boston Marathon has truly made a profound impact on every aspect of my life. Personally, it’s brought me intense pain and intense joy. When I say intense pain, I’m not referring to the physical pain of the hills and the marathon distance (although that’s not insignificant). I’m referring to the trauma that I was left with after the 2013 marathon bombings, and the thirteen years of work I’ve done on myself to come back stronger on the other side. The PTSD from that day led to alcohol dependency, untreated mental health issues, and eventually, an involuntary psychiatric hospital stay. It left me with suicidal ideations and led me to sabotage friendships, relationships, and live in the past for far too long. But with all that came a rebuilding. The Boston Marathon gave me a true purpose out of darkness. It inspired me to run again the next year, and truly showed me the power of this city and a community standing together for a common cause. It showed me that darkness and evil don’t stand a chance in a city with this much light. Professionally, the marathon taught me how important it is to have a support system standing behind you. No matter what is going on in the world, the love and joy and support from every single spectator makes you feel unstoppable. It’s a major reason why I left a corporate job to join the world of fitness - I wanted to make others feel as empowered and strong as I did, when I had people—even if they were strangers—cheering me on. And again, circling back to personally, I could always count on my people to be there year after year—my wife always made it to the finish line, and I knew I could always find my parents right around the mile 20 sign before Heartbreak.
So, by no stretch of the imagination, the Boston Marathon has been one of the most formative events of my entire life. How lucky am I to find something to be so incredibly passionate about? And above all, I hope that by running and sharing my love and joy for this race, and this sport, for the past decade (plus), I may inspire just one more person to get involved with the Boston Marathon in one way or another, whether it be by cheering, volunteering, qualifying, or fundraising. And no matter how you get from Hopkinton to Boylston—by tracking someone running, by volunteering along the course, by showing some love for a stranger, by walking, jogging, all out sprinting, or maybe even crawling, I promise it will change your life for the better. And remember - no matter how painful or difficult it may be, it will always, always be worth it.
Thanks for the memories, Boston. Thank you for everything you’ve brought to my life. I will forever be eternally grateful for you. #BOSTONSTRONG
Xo