The Boston Marathon rule

There is a rule among runners. Every runner knows it. In fact, its mere mention evokes wistful thoughts and unspoken nods of agreement.

The rule: "You will not go to your grave with an unredeemed qualifying time for the Boston Marathon."

But there is a lesser-known rule about the Boston Marathon: If your company gets you in because it sponsors the event and offers a limited number of free "passes" to the Boston Marathon, you will honor that pass, you will get your ass to Boston, and you will run the Boston Marathon—even if it kills you.

When someone from special events at my company, EMC, a longtime sponsor of the Boston Marathon, sent out a note inviting people to enter a drawing for a chance to run this marathon, I blithely tossed my name in the hat. So it’s 26.2 miles. Really, what're the chances I’d get picked? Right?

Pretty good, apparently.

Of course there’s a catch. To run it as an EMC employee, you don't have to actually qualify; however, you do have to commit to raising money.

If you've read my blog to this point, you can read a little further. However, if you get squeemish when people ask you for money, please shut off your computer. Do it now.

Still reading? Good. How much can you give? Listen, I'm about to train like a son of a bitch, going from zero to 26 miles in 4-1/2 months. I'll be running every damn day (and twice on Sunday). My back will be sore. My legs will ache. My feet will have blisters. The blisters will have blisters. I'll be miserable. The least you can do is set aside a little cash.

Please give generously. I'm setting a personal goal of $5,000. We can do that together. I've been blessed with a lot of friends, and I know you all to be generous people (except that one funny looking guy in the back; I don't know him). Kindness is in your nature; it's what I like about you. So please dig deep. I will be -- especially around mile 20.

Resolve to make a difference

I'd like to invite you to join me in my New Year’s resolution, which is to run the Boston Marathon. But the marathon is only part of the picture -- and not the most important part.

Anyone who has set out to run a marathon (or ride a century, compete in a triathlon, swim across the Atlantic, whatever) knows that the event itself, while never easy, is the easy part.

When you sign up for a marathon, what you're really committing yourself to is the training. At first it’s just a two-mile run. Eventually it becomes a four-mile run. Before long, you’re running every day. In the wind and the rain. In the heat of the afternoon. Whenever you can fit in the time that day. There may be 20,000 people running alongside you on the day of the event, but ultimately a marathon is a race you run by yourself, hour after hour, mile after mile, day after day, week after week.

And yet that’s a walk in the park compared to the marathon that Michael and his parents were asked to run in 1986.

Here's where you come in. In order to run the Boston Marathon, I’ve pledged to raise money for the Michael Carter Lisnow Respite Center, which helps families and children with disabilities.

When I stop to think about the people who need the help of organizations like this, it puts the marathon training into perspective. The few days and hours I'll be training are nothing compared to the years that many people spend battling a disease or a disability. I might go running for an hour, but that's just one hour out of my day. Imagine running that marathon every minute of every day of your life.

How truly lucky we are, those of us who are in good health, who are financially secure. Please take a moment at the beginning of this year to reflect. In the coming weeks as I train for this run, I’ll be asking you to help me reach my goal of raising at least $2,500. (Stayed tuned for more information.) Together we’ll help someone who may be a little less fortunate.