1981 Boston Marathon Diary

 1981 Boston Marathon Diary, at least the first couple pages I can find just now. – JDW

Thursday, April 16. As Northwestern’s Flight 46 entered its approach pattern over Boston’s Logan Airport, the pilot’s voice crackled – in the obligatory Texan accent – “The temperature in Boston is currently 55 degrees, with winds from the west gusting to thirty miles per hour.”

Does Rodgers really think this weather will hold until 2:15 p.m. Monday? Does Seko care? (Seko must care, as he is said to be considering withdrawal if the temperature is higher than 68.

Friday, April 17. The area around the Prudential Center begins to fill with Midwestern attorneys wearing polyester suits and running shoes. Overpriced magazines, published especially for this race, discuss the fact Grete Waitz “almost certainly won’t even run [Boston] this year.” Another magazine confides that Alberto Salazar “is not expected to run because of a prior commitment to compete in the USC-UCLA-Stanford track & field meet on the West Coast.” Something about that doesn’t seem right.

Lines are already forming outside Dunkin’ Donuts and The Spaghetti House as carbohydrate-deprived runners embark on a vein-clogged rationale for all those winter miles.

A favorite watering hole has become a gay bar since last year’s race and a male heterosexual runner is on his second beer before he notices there are no women to fantasize about.

The weather is still great for marathon racing.

Saturday, April 18. One is already bored with the sight of hollow cheeks. A casual stroller is exposed to seven different “official” Boston Marathon t-shirts. There is an exposition with everything a runner ever wanted to buy. And more. A journalist bumps into Bill Rodgers and warns him to avoid the carnival at any cost.

Bill dives into the maelstrom as if it were just another 10K jog. It seems sunnier and Billy looks warm.

Sunday, April 19. More madness, more commercialism, more pastry, more sugar, more pasta.

More sun. Less sleep.

Monday, April 20. Race day. The weather is perfect, and the hoopla is behind us. Some seem surprised the race will actually occur.

After all, the disgruntled Boston police department had threatened a blockade, and the mayor of Newton had denied the proper permit. But this is Boston and something is still sacred in the Commonwealth.

The Boston Globe prints the names and numbers of all 6845 official entrants. The better to cheer for complete strangers.

Noon. The big topic of conversation, surprisingly, is the weather. Various television “experts” seem to think 50 degrees with a substantial tailwind could be a factor.

John Block, Reagan’s Secretary of Agriculture, switches numbers… just in case.

Then the gun. Gary Fanelli took the instant lead. Crushing the first mile in 4:29 or so, Fanelli would later say he went out hard to set up a World Record for Toshihiko Seko, Bill Rodgers or anyone else so inclined.

He merely might have been seeking the glare of the TV cameras. Regardless, Fanelli started at record pace, establishing a 250-yard lead at 5M and passing 6M in 29:08.

Ron Tabb was 2nd at this point, the only man bored with Fanelli’s preeminence, or perhaps with the decal of Disney’s Goofy character on the rear of Fanelli’s shorts.

The pack remained behind, chatting, probably asking such questions as, “Can they see our logos from those helicopters?” Some 14 choppers gave Hopkinton an Apocalypse Now ambience.

The race hadn’t really begun, although the identities of the losers were rapidly becoming apparent.

Despite Fanelli’s bold statements about a WR, he never even approached the course standards. At Framingham (6.75M) he was timed in 31:54, which was 8 seconds behind Jerome Drayton’s split in 1970.

At Natick (10.5M), Fanelli’s split was 50:00 (4:45 pace), still behind the course record. Tabb had called it quits (he would end up 126th), Greg Meyer held 6th, with Boston Billy easing back out of the top ten – an illusion concealed by the still-large pack.

Fanelli continued his manic flight towards the Pru, passing the halfway point in 1:03:10. The boys in the band just watched, as Seko’s time was “merely” 1:05:25. Fanelli was fooling only the uninitiated spectators and most of the media.