Last Friday night, exactly two months before the Marathon, I ran the final 9 miles the race route, and then added another 3 miles on for good measure.

Click to see live map. Very cool is the elevation profile - the big hill is the famous Heartbreak Hill between miles 20 and 21 of the marathon.

What started as a sort of spontaneous cool way to squeeze in a long run in lieu of a commute home, turned into a memory-filled jaunt through not only the historic Boston Marathon final miles through the Newton hills, including Heartbreak hill, but also my own 7-year history in Boston.

On a Friday night, Nurit and I left her school, Babson College, in a usual hurried manner so she could make a yoga class back in Cambridge. She suggested dropping me off to run home from Newton. What a great idea. So, in the middle of traffic at a red light where the route turns right onto Commonwealth Avenue, at the Newton Firehouse (about mile 17.5), I jumped out of the car with only light running clothes and a watch on this cold, windy early evening.

At the start of the run is the first of the three Newton hills. The Newton hills, culminating in the renowned Heartbreak Hill, are the best and worst part of the marathon. The worst, for obvious reasons – huge hills this late in the marathon(??).  But when you’re finished, you know you’ve broken the back of the marathon and can bring it in. The hills were really no problem right now at the beginning of the run!

I started to remember when I was a grad student at MIT, I used to take the Green Line T out to this spot several Thursday nights with two running buddies, Cam and Bill, and we’d run in. Cam, an ex-college cross country runner, was always pushing the pace up the hills a little harder than I could, but I would manage to stay with them.

The famous Johnny Kelley statue on Comm Ave in the Newton Hills. He ran the Boston Marathon 61 times. Whoa.

After the hills, you pass Boston College. And here is where the memories started flooding in. For the past 2 years, I had met my friend Matt here dozens of times for early morning runs, seemingly always frigid. We’d go by the Chestnut Hill Reservoir and pontificate on life and careers, and I remember him telling me his excitement about a new job he had gotten as we ran along the icy sidewalks of Comm Ave…

You pass the “WATER 21” mark on the street at B.C., the marker for the 21 mile water stop – one sign that the Boston Marathon is forever etched in the identity of the city.

Then through Cleveland Circle and the turn onto Beacon Street. You can almost hear the people 10 deep screaming as you round this corner. Less than 5 miles… less than 5 miles.

As I ran down Beacon Street on a sidewalk, I passed a guy whom I recognized – the super muscle guy from the MIT gym. Have I been in this city long enough that I can run on a dark street miles away from where I live and see someone I know? As Nurit and I prepare to move to Philadelphia, I remember first moving here from New York and being amazed at what a small town it felt like here. And the longer I have been here, the smaller it feels.

I continue on Beacon Street. There is the synagogue that Nurit and I went to for the high holidays a couple of years ago… here is Washington Square, where I came for a fancy birthday dinner in November… here is the intersection where I ran to on Christmas Eve two years ago on an 8 miler when Nurit was applying to schools, with the empty, quiet, beautiful streets.

Then to Coolidge Corner, where my mom took elocution lessons in the 1940’s… Peet’s Coffee and Indian and Thai Restaurants that I’ve eaten at dozens of times… and then downhill … past the 25 mile mark just before the bridge into Kenmore Square. The Citgo sign… Nurit and I went to our only Red Sox game last spring in the pouring rain… suicidal biking in Kenmore with the new T stop that has been under construction forever… where I helped in advising on bike lane design plans for the Boston Bike Advisory Board… India Quality Restaurant where I ate with my friend Jon on Christmas night 2002, celebrating in the Jewish way, on a lonely, quiet and snowy holiday night and we watched the Manchurian Candidate together.

Citgo sign in Kenmore Square

And finally, crossing Mass Ave, and then making the two turns to head into the final stretch on Boylston Street. When you can see the puffy balloon finish line ½ mile in front of you, knowing it’s the end, that you’re going to make it, people screaming, you’re a champion for these 3 minutes even though you can barely think or breathe. Although I’ve run Boston once as an entrant, I’ve run it so many more times as a pacer for friends (BAA officials, you didn’t read that). Here is the stretch where I usually drop back several steps, let my friend lead the way, enjoy their accomplishment and so I don’t end up in their finishing picture, because it is their moment. Past Copley Mall, and there’s the Public Library, and the permanent yellow finish line that sits on Boylston Street.

The bright yellow line permanently etched on Boylston Street is the finish line! You can even see it on google maps!

Last night, there were no crowds, just cars, buses, cabs, people blackberrying, and I continued my jog down memory lane. Onto Comm Ave with the stately brownstones, so fun to voyeur into, through the Public Garden, around the edge of the Common.  Tonight, I ran into two friends on their way to dinner. Another small-town feeling. Past the State House, where I came to celebrate when same-sex marriage was protected for the distant future. Up Charles Street, through Beacon Hill, past the Sevens, where we celebrated Nurit’s 28^th birthday in a blizzard. Over Longfellow Bridge and into Cambridge, Our Fair City.

My photo from the celebration at the State House in June 2007 when the amendment to ban same-sex marriage was defeated in the State Legislature. An amazing, amazing moment.

What struck me about this run is how these memories of different times of my life, stack upon one another with the place being the one commonality. And I am only one person. Every single of the millions of people with whom we share space with over time, have such associations. Memories walking around everywhere, made more vivid for me through the act of running, such an intense, hard experience.

Boston, Massachusetts, I will miss you.  Oh, and I ran really well too.  The perfect run.

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