Boston Boogers

Jesse | Published on Apr 29, 2009

The snot traveled impressively far in the wind.  I think they call it a farmer’s blow.  You know, it’s when you hold one nostril closed and blow with all your strength out the other nostril, hoping to expel its contents in one massive show of force.

Well either I never noticed it before, or it’s become the new fad among marathon runners, because last week at the Boston Marathon it seemed like every runner upwind from me was doing it.  There was a strong headwind that day,  which is to say, I got hit by flying snot on multiple occasions.

The other surprise was the urine field.  Maybe I missed it last year, or maybe there was a particularly intense dearth of porto potties this year which made it necessary.  But either way, there it was.  On the way from the staging area to the start line there was a yard filled with people, men and women, urinating.  No trees for cover, no attempts to hide.  Men standing, women squatting, everyone peeing.

In the great decision of whether to be proper and wait in a long line for a porto potty or whether to just go, propriety was thrown to the wind…right along with the urine.

But, I’ll tell you, the flying snot and urine were not as gross as you might think.  There was something refreshing about the tossing aside of manners.  In a way, each flying snot droplet represented a piece of the wall that normally separates us, being thrown to the wind.

No one tried to tell people not to urinate in that field, and no one yelled at the snot flinging runners.  Why?  Because we were all there for the same reason, for the race, and that bonded us, created an unspoken understanding, and helped us give each other a break where we normally might not have.

The Boston Marathon fans are, perhaps, the greatest in the world.  They don’t fling snot, but they do stand out in the cold for hours, going hoarse with screaming.  And the most amazing part is that they scream their lungs out for people who they don’t know and have never met.

Why?  Again, because the race provides common ground.  113 years of history and stories brings people together and makes them feel that they have something in common.  It provides an excuse to step past the boundaries we normally erect between ourselves and others.

Most people wouldn’t approach someone on the street on his way to give a presentation at work and say “Go get ‘em John!  You’re gonna knock ‘em dead today man!  Go John!  Go John!”  But every once in a while, it would be great if people did.

Too often we end up constrained and even isolated from each other by “should” and “supposed to”, by “you can’t do that” and most of all by fear of embarrassment for crossing boundaries.  But surprisingly refreshing interactions often come from being willing to put aside these rules.

Some of the best teachers are the ones who are willing to “make a fool of themselves” in front of the class.  One day they decide to stop worrying about being embarrassed and thereby become much more entertaining.

Some of the most meaningful compliments are the ones that come from strangers with no ulterior motive.  The random person passing on the street who stops to compliment you and then walks away.

We live in a fairly cold culture.  Other cultures greet people, even strangers, with a kiss on the cheek.  We might offer a hand.  People will take the time to tell you when you get in their way or do something to bother them, but they will rarely spare a few seconds to tell you when they notice something nice about you.

25,000 strangers can blow snot on each other and urinate communally in a field because they are running a race together.  You’d think that everyone else could share a smile, say hello, or (gasp) give a random compliment even without a marathon to make it happen.

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