President’s Message – May 1992
The Marathon From….

“The Marathon from Hell” declared Louise Boland, all-world aerobics instructor, as she maneuvered around the hotel room, displaying all the grace and agility of an arthritic lobster with an advanced case of osteoporosis. She got no argument from the vacant-eyed, catatonic runners whom she was stepping over and on. All of our mental energies were focused on calculating how long it would take the body bags to arrive, so we could be shipped home to our families. 

It all began on a more festive note in Hopkinton, where GFTC runners and their groupies gathered in the homes of Jack O’Rourke and Renee and Geoff Matter. Thanks to the hospitality of our hosts, we comfortably avoided the crowds and pre-race jitters, while engaging in the usual toilet line repartee, for which the club is so justly famous. 
Humor faded soon after the start of the race, as the temperature climbed into the 60’s, and we quickly became aware that the strange, clammy feeling on the skin was humidity, and that salty taste at the edge of the mouth was sweat. “It was Dehydration City out there” said Ron Turcotte, and that meant trouble, as we had experienced no warm days in the prior three months. It was to become a bad day for most of us, and almost certainly set a record for PWs and DNFs among club runners. 

Not all GFTC runners shared in the post-race gloom. Keith Moore, recovering from a bout of the flu only days before ran an outstanding race, finishing in 2:46, which earned him 352nd place overall. Karen Oleski, having just completed her first marathon in 3:50, was bounding about the room with insufferable enthusiasm. Having no basis for comparison, she undoubtedly thought this was a normal marathon. 

However, most of us were exhibiting the robust good health characteristic of refugees from a mustard gas attack. Asking “What was your time today?” had all the diplomatic merit of asking: “So, Governor Weld, how did you make out on taxes this year?” 

The Phantom Editor could make many friends by losing the results of this year’s Boston. 

The incident that best characterizes the day was told by my wife Alice, who accompanied John Shane on the elevator. After an initial bout of dizziness, which brought expressions of concern from those around him. John stoically declared: “I’m all right now.” And then he passed out. 

If running marathons weren’t so healthy, I’d consider giving it up, 

Art