After the 100^th running of the Boston Marathon in 1996, executive director Guy Morse had a big decision to make. Over 38,000 runners participated that year. The doors were open to more than just runners who met the qualifying times.  For the city of Boston and event organizers, removing qualifying times would have been a huge economic boost.

A decision to open the floodgates would have also taken away some of the tradition and prestige of the event. It would have also hurt many other races around the country that serve as qualifiers.  Since the 100^th running, Morse and the Boston Athletic Association have made slow compromises. Qualifying times were adjusted for specific age groups especially those 45 years and older.  In addition the field was capped at 20,000 competitors to match the abilities of course security, volunteers and finish line systems.

After observing the event last Monday, it appears that his decision was a good one.  Thousands of runners who had only dreamed of participating were now toeing the line at the oldest marathon in the world.  Even with easier standards, they still felt that they had earned the right to be there.

Merchandisers must have thought they died and went to heaven.  No matter what direction you looked someone was wearing a Boston Marathon jacket. I haven't seen this phenomenon at any other running event.  The jacket was like a diploma telling everyone that you planned to complete one of the toughest and most prestigious marathons in the world. The jackets are big moving billboards too, a reminder to fellow runners and spectators of what is about to take place.

Three days at Boston enabled me to immerse myself in many of the sights, sounds and aura of this spectacular event. The town has much in the way of historical references.  The marathon has its own history and while you are there you become a part of history in the making.  No matter how many times you are able to run or be connected with this marathon, each year find it's own significance. 

Boylston Street was jammed packed and more than ten people deep on each side for more than a half mile, waiting for the runners to arrive at the finish line.  A giant video screen allowed you to follow the lead runners and finish line announcers shouted out updates as spectators wandered about. When the first Kenyan arrived I was touched by a group of countrymen dancing and singing behind their flag. When the overall winners received their laurel wreaths, national anthems played along and absorbed you in the pride of their accomplishments.

Then at the three-hour mark the wave of runners began to stream past the bold and beautiful finish stage banners. Some quietly reveled in their own feats while others did cart wheels, push ups, held hands or waved to the crowd for bigger cheers. Shortly after, they grabbed their heat protective blankets, food and equipment bags while hobbling back to hotels.  War stories were shared in the elevators, some runners were smothered in hugs by loved ones and more were looking for a cell phone to report their significant part in a living drama.