Article written by Niki Jamieson.

The Day Before the Marathon
My husband and I had tickets to the Sox game on Sunday and got off the Orange Line in Back Bay so we could stop and get a beer. The finish line was righ there! We watched people anxiously standing in line getting their race packets and then proudly putting on their t-shirt so that their families could gush over them. I was gushing and I didn't even know any of these people.

The area of the street where the finish line is located was blocked off to traffic. I saw Mr. Average Joe Runner standing on the painted finish line, sandwiched between the grandstands and the crowd barriers, with his hands in the air while his family stood around snapping pictures of him. Brimming with excitement, I wanted to dash over to the finish line and get my picture taken too! I wanted to be a part of this so badly.

We didn't stop at any of the bars because they were all packed with runners and their rolling ralliers. I could hear stories being told, laughter bouncing in the breeze and the excitement for what was about to happen building and building until I found myself eager to break out in full sprint and dash towards Fenway. Chariots of Fire kept welling up in my head as I imagined pushing through the crowds in slow motion and running. It took every ounce of self-control and a realization that I would probably get hit by a car to talk me down off the ledge.

Where was this coming from? I needed to settle down. It was only Sunday. The marathon, that I was not even participating in, wasn’t until the next day.

Marathon Day
On the way into work the next day, I saw at least 5 non-runners running. (OK, I'm not being snotty. One guy actually had a barracuda jacket on with headphones attached to a tape deck.) The crazy thing was - I still wanted to join him! This feeling was more energizing than coffee. I wanted to bottle it and sell it as a Prozac-Red Bull drink, but with absolutely no side-effects. And then it dawned on me, I might not be the only one who gets this feeling every Patriots Day. Maybe every person who has had a taste of being part of something really big has that stick of happy dynamite explode on occasions just like this!

My lunch break only added fuel to my already burning fire. I started clicking through Boston.com to see pictures of average Joes and Janes doing their marathon-thing. Learning about how average Joe-full-time-mutual-fund-guy takes his dog on a pre-dawn run after his morning baby feeding made me want to yell "Atta boy!" Hearing how average-Jane-full-time-accountant is running to raise money for a charity benefiting her sick mother, makes me want to give her a hug. I saw a link to a video interview with Team Hoytt, a local father/son team who has captured the hearts of the nation -- not just Boston -- through marathons and triathlons. The adult son is disabled and the dad has been pushing him in the Boston Marathon since he was a boy. To anyone, this is quite a feat in and of itself, right? Well I learned that he and his son were recently inducted into the Ironman Hall of Fame. These are two average guys who put their time in and broke personal physical barriers as well as paved the way for physically challenged people through sport all over America. Ironman has been running for 30 years and has had 25 hall of famers. The Hoytts were inducted in October 2008 as numbers 26 and 27. To me, this is where the real inspiration lives, where you find the heart and soul of the marathon.

I had to do everything in my power to stay seated in my chair, not kick off my heels and make a break for the exit for a mid-afternoon run. You just can't find anything more inspiring than this!