At the beginning of 1L year our torts professor told us that law school is like training for long distance running. You start with a light jog through a case or two and then work up to more rigorous intellectual calisthenics. Occasional joint pain, like fine-print induced eye strain, becomes an accepted corollary to success. Your points of reference for progress evolve until you’ve forgotten the days of the 2 mile jog and the facile concepts of assault and battery. I think that this is a really good metaphor except that it overlooks the fact that conquering a marathon is light years easier than conquering a torts exam.

My marathon experience all began with an easy “brunch run” in early November with the BC Law Running Club. Drawn by the promise of an “all you can eat” breakfast buffet at the White Horse Tavern and the infectious enthusiasm of the club’s organizer, Scott Kleekamp, I joined a crew of about 6 law students for a short jaunt around Brighton. I had run every now and then over the summer but I had never run very far and always at a speed approximating the lackadaisical cadence of a Parisian waiter. During the run Scott talked about getting people motivated to come out and run on the weekends and floated the idea of preparing for the Boston Marathon in April. He talked about running a marathon as if it was the easiest thing in the world; you get up, you eat breakfast, you brush your teeth and run a marathon—no problem! Juxtaposed against the purported ease of this task, it seemed incongruous and unfair how great the prize was that he was describing. He spoke of reaching the finish line in the way you might hear a mountain climber wax nostalgic for some incomprehensible Himalayan peak.

Though I nodded along with the sheer momentum of his sales pitch, as I often find myself doing with Scott’s stories, I inwardly thought he was crazy and dismissed any idea of putting myself through the misery of 26.2 miles. It wasn’t until almost 5 months later that I would understand what he was talking about and was amazed to find, as he had promised, that running a marathon was both feasible and exponentially rewarding.

For the rest of November I added regular runs to my normal workout routine and began to build stamina. By the end of December I was feeling a lot better going 30 minutes or so on the treadmill but still had yet to run farther than 5 miles. It wasn’t until I arrived back in January after winter break that I began to seriously consider training for the marathon. It was around this time that Scott started to press our group to get serious about the marathon and to start in on some longer distances. Though I remained non-committal on running the marathon I did join the running club in early February for my first 10 mile run. We left from Newton campus and went down around Fenway Park and back. The last few miles were very hard and the weather was pretty frigid. I remember turning the corner onto Commonwealth around BU territory, feeling the cold wind coming off the Charles River hit me in the face, and regretting ever setting out on such a needlessly painful venture.

Nevertheless the feeling of hitting that first milestone had a galvanizing effect on my running. Running a couple times a week provided a really good outlet for stress while I was studying for finals in February and gave me a good opportunity to get away from campus. I began to put in about one long run every weekend and began extending the distance. In mid march I decided that I would try to stretch the run to 15 miles in order to “test the waters” for the marathon and ended up feeling terrible as I neared Commonwealth Avenue on the way back to school. I remember Scott doubling back for me and trying to motivate me with talk about how the crowd during the marathon would be screaming my name and high-fiving me but I didn’t want to hear any of it. I was in the doldrums of my pain cave, my hands were cold and I was upset with Scott for filling me with false hope. If 15 felt this terrible 26.2 would be impossible.

Still I felt like I had past the point of no return and refused to let the effort I had put in this far be for naught. I didn’t ever get to the 20 mile mark that I wanted to try for but noticed on my next 15 mile run that I felt a lot better and even had energy at the end of it—I had begun to notice in general that I had more energy during the day and my general fitness level was improving. I was still skeptical that I could seamlessly add another 11 miles on race day but was heartened by the advice of other seasoned marathoners that 15 miles would provide a fine base for finishing the rest. As Scott put it, “Steve, saying you want to do twenty to prove you can do 26 is like saying ‘let me cut off my pinky to prove that I can cut off my thumb later’”

Despite being advised to get as much rest as possible, I had been unable to get in 8 hours any night in the week preceding the race and felt fueled by nervousness and adrenaline. The day before the race Scott, Dan and I checked out the race expo at the World Trade center and proceeded to carb-loaded at Minado’s all you can eat sushi buffet where I set a new PR at 75 pieces (hoping that rise in mercury saturation in my blood wouldn’t weigh me down too much the following day). We then made up our bandit numbers on fed-ex envelopes and saturated them with glitter for an extra touch of manliness.

The actual day of the race still remains a blur of energy, amazement and power-ade goo gels. The ride out to Hopkinton from Newton seemed to go on forever at 60 mph and I nervously pondered running that entire stretch back at 6 mph. The weather was perfect for running at partly cloudy fifty five degrees but a little cold for waiting as we shivered in anticipation of the start.

We had bandit written all over us (literally) as we tattooed our names on each other with sharpie markers next to the runners’ corrals. We then made our way over by the side of the railing and snuck two at a time through the fence after the runners began pushing towards the starting line. I was inspired as I looked around and saw variety of causes and messages represented. In front of me a man was running for his wife who had died of cancer, beside me was another man who was running his 100th marathon and behind me a group of women were running for cancer research. Three guys to our left with their phone numbers on their backs seemed to be running for Wellesley girls but what their cause lacked in nobility it compensated for with pure zealousness.

As we crossed the start line you could feel the energy in the air. The crowd was going crazy and all the runners were packed in tight as they confronted the sensory overload of cheering crowds and the daunting task ahead of them. No one drank in the crowd more than Dan and I think he ran 3 miles to our first two due to zigzagging and high-fiving on each side of the course. The miles began to fly by and I was constantly reinvigorated by someone here or there shouting my name. In fact I was overwhelmed and didn’t know how to react so I would just look at them and say, “Thank you!” I was so impressed with how engaged the crowd was and how supportive they were of random strangers.

Every five miles we would break out goo-gels and by the end of the day the five of them that I consumed have probably turned me off to them forever (or at least for a couple weeks). BUT at the time they were delicious and for the first time in any of my runs I had the benefit of food and water. It seemed like every 100 feet someone was handing out oranges, water, popsicles or Vaseline (not to be confused with vanilla goo-gel). Also every few miles you could count on “eye of the tiger” or “Hanging tough” or another similarly wonderfully corny motivational song that seemed to have extra significance in the context of the race.

It’s strange to think about now but the time really did fly by while I was out there. Miles melted into miles and the energy of the crowd melted most all thoughts of pain or exhaustion I had (the remaining pain being easily taken care of with Advil at mile 18). The Wellesley girls lived up to their energetic reputation and ranked second on the day in enthusiasm only to the crowd at Boston College main campus (but that’s probably because our BC gear got us cheap applause there.)

As we neared the familiar course we had run so many times on Commonwealth Avenue and crossed over heartbreak hill, it began to sink in that we were actually going to finish. The coup de gras was having Sean Phelan (Sporting two crowd-pleasing cowbells), Stephanie Park, Josh Alexander and Erin Boylan jump in with us at mile 22. I was surprised to find at this point in the race that I had more energy than I had ever had nearing 15 miles in training runs. Despite a growing heaviness in my quads I felt great and began to regret the fact that the race was going to end. Another mile down the road we were joined by Emily Twiss who had probably all but given up on us after waiting 50 minutes after Vince Gonzales, who started with us, had passed by. The group was now 9 strong and we soaked in the last bits of crowd support before arriving downtown.

As we turned onto Boylston, all of a sudden the road widened and we had the strange feeling of seeing the both sides of the road empty of cars for the first time and seeing rows of cheering fans on each side. The finish line was half a mile ahead and I felt like I could run another 10. It was an incredible feeling I’ll never forget. We crossed the finish line and for the first time in 4 hours and 25 minutes I slowed to a walk and it sunk in that we had done it!