Farrell McClernon, now a true Boston fan
Editor’s Note: Farrell McClernon is the director of strategic business development for local marketing startup Privy. She is also a Boston University alumna, now repeat Boston Marathon runner and an incredibly proud transplant-turned-Bostonian.
I shipped up to Boston eight years ago, and never left.
I thought about it a couple times. We’ve had our ups and downs, Boston and me. Bostonians, the born and raised kind, are a tough breed. They run thick as thieves and, as a transplant, it can often feel impossible to break through.
Four years ago, I ran my first Boston Marathon.
I went to college in Boston, so I knew the Marathon was a big deal. It was the single day every student in the city seemed to receive a get-out-of-jail-free card for public intoxication. It wasn’t until after I graduated and began training to run my first race that I discovered Marathon Monday transcended the Beacon Street block party I had grown to love. How it, in fact, transcended the city of Boston.
If you are in the city on the third Monday in April, it doesn’t matter if you’re from Southie or South Africa. On that day, you are a Bostonian.
The Marathon is a small taste of what it feels like to be part of Boston’s inner circle. As someone who has legitimately contemplated plopping down in the middle of Beacon Street somewhere around mile 22, I can tell you firsthand the crowd literally carries you through the race. It’s an unparalleled display of human empathy and connectedness that total strangers can will you on at a point of near exhaustion. There is not a city in the world that supports each other more than the people of Boston.
That was never truer than on April 15, 2013. Boston took a shot to the heart. But amidst the havoc, here’s what I remember most clearly of the day:
- I remember my little brother, without hesitation, running head first into the smoke to help.
- I remember a waitress from Joe’s on Newbury Street walking around handing out water bottles to sobbing, terrified pedestrians.
- I remember my friend Mike on his knees cradling the head of a girl in shock, whose leg was severely injured.
- I remember a crowd of strangers huddled around them flagging down help, oblivious to the police demanding they evacuate immediately.
I hated that day. I also don’t think I could ever love a city more than I loved my home, Boston, Massachusetts, on that day.
In the last year, we saw Boston rise up in the most glorious way. As tends to ensue in situations of tragedy, leaders arose. From Deval Patrick to Barack Obama, we were inspired by eloquent speeches about the strength and resilience of Boston. The Red Sox fought valiantly to bring home yet another World Series.
The most empowering leaders were not those of celebrity status, however — at least not pre-dating the attacks. The people who made me want to run again in 2014 were the people who got knocked down hardest.
Jeff Bauman spent this year writing a book, and two days ago published an incredibly moving article thanking Boston for its support. Celeste Corcoran and her daughter, Sydney, just made their first trip back to the finish line since the attack for the Dear World photo shoot and plan to be at the finish line on Monday. And I was in tears watching Jane Martin, with a grin from ear to ear, proudly bustling through the halls of her doctor’s office, sporting her brand new “cheetah leg.”
For Boston, these people have risen to celebrity.
Through their personal triumphs over the last year, they have set the tone for our recovery as a community. No self-pity. No anger. Just forward momentum and positivity. They are a testament to the indomitable spirit of this city.
And Monday is the culmination of it all.
On Monday, the world will be watching. This Monday, April 21, we will have the entire world on our team. I, for one, have never been prouder to be a part of anything in my life.
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