By Bobby Manning
A pair of orange shoes sits by the front door of my apartment, preparing to carry me from Hopkinton to Boylston Street. My old black-and-blue pair that carried me hundreds of miles retired roughly one month ago and rests in my closet.
Through five-to-six days per week I’d run downhill on the south side of campus to the track this past year, then churn my legs uphill toward main campus and loop around to rack up the miles I’ve piled up in preparation of this moment.
It was a meditation experience for me. I could brainstorm ideas, mull over life, churn through my favorite albums and playlists, sight-see, dance a little, and when I concluded a rush of good-feeling would flow through me. Empowerment.
Heartbreak Hill has nothing on University Hill.
It’s all been in an effort to alleviate past pain and strengthen the future of care for patients struggling with cancer. I’m running the Boston Marathon on Monday, passing a few blocks from Beth Israel Medical Center, where I lost my father to acute myeloid leukemia last year.
It was an outcome I never expected or imagined, and, at the time, it was impossible to comprehend. On Apr. 15 I called him to sulk about the death of Isaiah Thomas’ sister, a loss Thomas expressed only being able to escape from through basketball....