Yesterday was supposed to be the Boston Marathon. I qualified a year and a half ago, in the 2018 St. George Marathon (qualifying time: 3:14:00). It would’ve been my second time running the race, and the 124th time intrepid athletes covered the distance from Hopkinton to Boston, making a right on Hereford and then a left on Boylston. For the first time in 124 years, the streets of Boston were empty on Patriots’ Day. The race was postponed due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

I was supposed to be running the race with 30,000 others from all over the world. Obviously, that couldn’t happen.

Since I couldn’t be in Boston, I decided I might as well run a marathon anyway, in my hometown of Cedar City. It wasn’t quite the same. I thought I’d call attention to a few important differences between running the Boston Marathon and doing the same distance in Cedar.

Boston Is Boston, and Cedar Is Cedar

When you run Boston, the lead-up is intense. It builds for months: the hype, the excitement, the preparation, the adrenaline—they all factor in. People obsess about the weather. They buy new gear and break in fresh shoes. I did all of that last year, when I ran the 123rd Boston Marathon.

For my Cedar marathon, it was just a regular day. I got up. I worked at my job. Then at 4:00 in the afternoon, I changed into my running clothes, walked out onto the sidewalk on Main Street, snapped a drizzly pre-run selfie, and then … just … started.

The most amazing thing about running the Boston Marathon is the crowd support. People gather along the entire 26.2-mile course to scream and yell. The women of Wellesley College line up three and four deep to kiss the runners as they pass. It’s unbelievable.

In Cedar, I got a couple of honks from friends who saw me along the way. I stopped once to refill my water bottles at a gas station. Aside from that, it was just me and the road.

Elevation and Hills

Boston is known for being a net downhill course, starting at about 400 feet elevation in Hopkinton and ending just above sea level in Boston’s Back Bay. Along the way, there are uphills and downhills. Almost everybody has heard about Heartbreak Hill, the last of four famous hills in Newton, Massachusetts. According to my GPS watch, there was about 900 feet of climb along the course in Boston.

My course around Cedar was a loop, so any downhills I got were “rewarded” with a climb later on. Cedar is even hillier than Boston, and the hills are considerably higher up—almost 6,000 feet in elevation vs. nearly sea level. My Monday run had 1,445 in vertical gain, which meant it also had 1,445 in vertical loss.

Oddly, even though I ended where I started, my Garmin thought I finished about 200 feet lower than my beginning elevation. Weird.

Finishing

In Boston, those last 100 yards on Boylston Street are legendary. Almost 100,000 people line the final blocks, screaming like crazy as you finish. Once you cross the finish line, a friendly volunteer drapes a medal around your neck and a silver “heat sheet” emergency blanket around your shoulders. Others hand you bottled water, a granola bar, chocolate milk, and other goodies. I think somebody even gave me a beer (which I didn’t drink). You spend the rest of the day (actually, the rest of the week) being congratulated by everyone you meet in Boston. You feel like a bona fide rock star.

In Cedar, I tried to do a “Moley Mile,” an all-out sprint to the finish line (named for Timothy Moley). My legs were pretty hashed by that point from all the climbing, but I did my best. When I finished, Main Street was pretty well deserted. There was almost no traffic. I stood there for a minute on the sidewalk on Main Street, physically spent.

I’d done it. Not with 30,000 others, but entirely by myself. And it was still 100 percent worth it.

I drove home, took a shower, and ate a big dinner. After all, I’d just burned 3,200 calories.

Silver Linings

This year’s Boston Marathon hasn’t been cancelled. It’s been postponed until September 14. Many are still skeptical the race will actually happen. They think that the pandemic will still be raging, and that the BAA will end up cancelling the marathon for the first time in well over a century.

I’m hoping that doesn’t happen, because the new date, September 14, is my birthday.