The straggly tail of runners moving down Beacon Street across from my window represent the end of the 112th Boston Marathon. This is my first up-close experience of a marathon. I spent about an hour down on the sidelines, as waves of emotion washed over me. I was surprised by how touching and intense it is, even as a spectator.

It took me a long time to get home today, as crowds of people jostled each other to pack into any Green Line train, trying to get near Copley Square and the marathon finish line. After fruitlessly trying to board 3 C trains in a row, I hopped the D train and transferred at Kenmore, after the hoards had reached their destination. Coming up out of the tunnel at St. Mary's, I could hear the roar of the crowd, then saw the runners, a sea of them, moving in the bright sunshine. Tears sprang to my eyes. The combination of the grit and almost fanciful optimism of the runners and the excitement and supportiveness of the crowd packed quite a punch. This was about 1pm, after the fastest had already crossed the finish line.

Brookline witnesses such a crucial point in the race, as the runners enter the final few miles, but are just short of the finish. It was amazing to see Beacon Street transformed into a sea of runners and spectators. As the train made a slight incline, I could see several blocks ahead and the sea turned into a long river of runners. The day is perfect: sunny but not too warm. Plenty of people are grilling and boozing, taking the opportunity to party. Others are waiting for a particular runner and will jump up out of their seats and start running alongside their loved one, offering encouragement and liquids. Others are trying to cross the path of the marathon, dodging in between runners as they go by. The spectacle of it is entertaining, but the sheer emotion of it is overwhelming. I sat silently and wondered why I didn't cheer, wondered what ideas of focus, commitment, and hope I can take from this, wondered at the beauty of such occasions.