If only every day could be like Patriots Day

Courtesy of Sophia Oppedisano

By Sophia Oppedisano Editor-in-Chief I grew up in the town where it all starts. On Patriots Day, my hometown fills with thousands of runners waiting to step up to the Boston Marathon start line to begin their victory lap after months of grueling training, frigid February long runs, and to achieve what is, for some, a lifelong dream. Going to high school in Hopkinton, I spent year after year rolling my eyes as every visitor began their speech with comments about the marathon start line. It’s the only thing people know about the town. I know the ins and outs of the timing, the waves, when the roads will open again, and not to drive after dark the night before to avoid the Midnight Marathon Bike Ride. When I was young, though, it became almost monotonous. Every year, the same Boston Marathon lessons and activities would pass through classrooms and, in middle school, our drama teacher even wrote and directed her own play, “It All Starts Here.” I remember being fascinated that humans could run for so long, but I couldn’t comprehend the glory, the history, or the importance of that day in April. Then, when I was 11, the finish line was bombed. I remember exactly where I was when I found out and exactly how I felt when I realized that hundreds of runners wouldn’t finish that day. Dozens were injured. Some lost their lives. In the wake of that tragedy, I watched as the cities and towns along the Marathon route came together. The care, the hope, and that total “Masshole” drive to prove people wrong was inspiring to me. And it couldn’t have just been me who was inspired. I mean, the Red Sox won the World Series that year. It’s one of the first times I remember registering the impact of humanity, the drive of hope, and the unparalleled importance of coming together. The year after the bombing, my family walked to the end of my street, right at the mile-and-a-half mark of the race. My brother and I held up a sign that read “Take Back the Finish Line,” and runners stopped to high-five us and take pictures. I remember watching waves of runners crest the hill and the never-ending lines of spectators cheering them on. “This is where I’m from,” I thought. “This is special.” Isn’t that what the Boston Marathon is all about? So, now, at 23 years old, living in a world where hope is so hard to come by, I live for the Boston Marathon. While I know every day can’t be marked by a 26.2-mile spectacle featuring thousands of people from out of town, big moments like the Boston Marathon bring out the very best in us. As we watch humanity and joy wither away with every passing day, we should cling to moments of togetherness and moments of happiness to combat the lonely world we have, unfortunately, become all too familiar with. Our compassion, empathy, and kindness are not only what make Boston strong - they are traits that make us strong. Whether I’m standing at the starting line, mile 6 at Framingham State, or the finish line, the feeling never changes. Framingham State students get up early, walk 2 miles, and get sunburns just to be together. It’s not something I roll my eyes at the mention of anymore. When my high school friends post about how much they miss Hopkinton on Patriots Day, I want to tell them to run back home. As much as it’s great to be together on the sidelines of the race, it’s even better to be together every day.