Catherine Durkin Robinson: Boston Marathon was thrilling, dizzying, inspiring

“You won’t ever experience anything like Boston,” the woman told me.

We were waiting for our wave to be called for the marathon. Athlete’s Village in Hopkinton held 9,000 runners. Most seemed to be lined up in front of the port-o-potties with me.

“This your first time?” I asked.

“I’ve run Boston before,” she said. “I’ve run marathons in New York, Las Vegas, San Francisco, D.C., and London. Boston’s unique. In a few minutes, you’ll see spectators lining the street. That won’t stop until Copley Square. For the next 26.2 miles, you will feel so much love and energy, this year more than ever, and it’ll carry you through. I guarantee it.”

Already I’d been surprised by the energy of my former hometown. It seemed that everyone went out of their way to wish me well. Several thanked me for being there.

As if I’d be anywhere else.

I left Athlete’s Village and made my way to the start line, focused on friendly faces instead of armed guards, but grateful for both. I lined up with the Boston Fire Department, who’d recently lost two of their brothers in a Back Bay fire. There were first-timers and veterans, runners who’d been turned away last year with a mile to go who vowed to return and did, runners with old legs or no legs at all, an elderly runner pushing his son in a wheelchair. There were 36,000 stories and I felt humbled and honored to be among them.

We started running and I reminded myself several times to soak it all in. Thousands of people shouted, “This year, we finish the race!” I ran through eight cities and each one had people cheering, offering orange slices and pretzels, pouring water into canteens, and one even offered places to sit and drink a beer. I felt like a superstar, high-fiving at least a hundred kids who were standing on the side of the road with their arms held high.

My childhood nickname “KATIE” was written on my arms and bib. Someone said it would be thrilling to hear it shouted by strangers encouraging me to keep going.

It was.

Thrilling and dizzying and inspiring.

This was especially true when I reached the infamous Newton Hills. By that time, the heat was getting to people. Northern runners had trained in an especially harsh winter. They routinely ran in 20, 30, and 40 degrees. Last Monday, we ran in the morning sunshine and temperatures rose into the high 60s.

It felt like a heat wave to them, and home to me. I ran smart, enjoying the day, and easily could have finished way under five hours. I was starting to hope for a personal record.

Then I arrived in Newton.

And those hills hit me.

People had warned this Florida girl about Heartbreak Hill, and it was as spectacular and challenging as expected. But there were hills leading into that and hills that followed — so many that my thighs went on strike and my feet threatened to leave me for good.

I slowed down and decided that the new goal was to finish feeling strong. I took my time. I danced with runners and spectators alike. I photo-bombed people and high-fived more excited kids. I looked around. I admired my city from a completely different perspective.

I stopped only twice – once to pee and another to reapply sunblock.

I kept going.

Signs insisted that toenails were overrated. Men with thick Boston accents yelled, “Katie, you’re taking it back for all of us!”

When that CITGO sign appeared and people yelled, “Welcome back to Boston, you’re almost home,” I picked up the pace.

I didn’t feel any more pain. I let the crowd lift me with chants of “USA! USA!” and I couldn’t stop grinning. I made that last left turn on to Boylston and saw the finish line. I couldn’t believe, after 5 ½ hours, I was going to do it. I ran past the site of last year’s bombing, an event that changed so many of us, and practically skipped over the finish line.

I hopped around and hugged everyone within sight. Take that, terrorists!

When they put the finisher’s medal around my neck, I cried an ugly, snotty, sobbing cry. This beautiful city that held so many wonderful memories now held a few more. I ran to find my loved ones, who’d been cheering me on for a year.

“Will you keep running?”

People want to know.

I discovered so much these past 12 months. I discovered there is still great satisfaction in setting my mind to something and seeing it through. I discovered I am strong and capable. I discovered unbelievable generosity in loved ones who shared advice and opened wallets to help me get there. I discovered a charity that improves lives for thousands of people fighting a debilitating disease. I discovered kindred spirits in runners and wondered how I lived without them for so long.

I discovered renewed love for a town that once welcomed me into its arms and I discovered a way to give back.

Will I run again…what do you think?

Catherine Durkin Robinson is a political advocate and organizer, living in Tampa. Column courtesy of Context Florida.