Remembering an artistic tribute to the Boston Marathon

 

In the wake of the 10^th anniversary of the Boston Marathon bombings, which was observed during Monday’s (April 17, 2023) 127^th running of the race, I’d like to share this column on a unique art exhibit held to pay tribute to the Boston Marathon five years after the 2013 tragedy.
The art exhibit --- which was held during the month of April 2018 at the Attleboro Arts Museum in downtown Attleboro, MA --- offered a unique glimpse into both the bombings and their aftermath and the marathon itself.
This column was published in the Wednesday, May 2, 2018, edition of The Sun Chronicle of Attleboro, MA:
Link to this column: https://www.thesunchronicle.com/opinion/columns/larry-kessler-museums-marathon-exhibit-is-inspirational/article_0c135f7b-b8b9-537e-88b0-7abf563a33db.html

Link to the story I wrote on the opening night of the exhibition on April 10, 2018: https://www.thesunchronicle.com/news/local_news/runners-high-attleboro-arts-museum-features-marathon-themed-art/article_4f7ea9b0-6155-5137-9804-0bd2055e4ac8.html
*****
The column:

“It’s the perfect fusion of the arts and running.”
--- Dr. Mark Young, a North Attleboro runner

Whether you run, jog or walk, you should take time to check out the exhibit of 65 pieces at the Attleboro Arts Museum before it ends its nearly-month-long run on Saturday. “A Long Distance Relationship: The 26.2 Mile Journey” is deeply inspiring, and you won’t leave without experiencing a full range of feelings: love, despair, sadness, elation – and something rare these days: optimism about the human condition.
The display would be remarkable even if the horrific bombings never happened five years ago. As Museum Director Mim Fawcett said in explaining why she conceived the show, and spent 2 ½ years bringing it to life, she has runners in her family, is one herself, and wanted to offer something that sheds light on what motivates people to cover 26.2 miles.
But in the wake of the attack, she was also determined to offer the public something that showed “the impact of the bombings together with the arts.” She accomplished that by attracting a diverse group of artists and organizations, such as Boston City Archives and Iron Mountain Incorporated of Northampton, which lent the museum 110 of the 600 shoes left at Copley Place as a memorial to the victims.
“It all sort of came together. I’ve never worked on an exhibit like this that worked out this way,” Fawcett said as close to 200 opening-night patrons explored the display’s photographs, paintings, sculptures and artifacts.
The exhibit’s real strength, however, is that it not only tells the story of how courageously runners, spectators and first responders all handled the events of April 15, 2013, but it serves another equally important purpose: revealing how far the Boston Marathon and society have evolved since the race’s inception.
You can start by comparing this year’s marathon to those a half-century earlier. Desiree Linden became the first American woman to win the race in 33 years on April 16, but 52 years earlier, women were still prohibited from officially competing. The argument, which seems ludicrous now, was that women weren’t strong enough for marathons. But once Roberta “Bobbi” Gibb became the first woman to finish the race in 1966, it didn’t take long for people to realize what a fallacy that was.  
Gibb was also the first woman finisher in 1967, the same year as the race hit its nadir in disrespecting women. Kathrine Switzer received a number, signing up as “K. Switzer,” but when then-Boston Athletic Association Marathon official Jock Semple spotted Switzer, he tried to push her off the course. Semple’s ungentlemanly conduct, however, was foiled by several male runners, who came to Switzer’s aid. She finished nearly an hour behind Gibb, but became the first woman to finish the marathon with a number.
It would nonetheless take women until 1972 to be official entrants, when Nina Kuscsik won, but women wouldn’t be allowed in the Olympic Marathon until Los Angeles in 1984, when Joan Benoit Samuelson, the Boston winner in 1983, captured the gold medal. As a tribute to that era, a sculpture by Gibb, her children’s book, “The Girl Who Ran,” and an illustration from the book by artist Susanna Chapman are all featured in the exhibit.
Another area where both the marathon and society are infinitely better off than they were decades ago is with respect to allowing people society once considered limited in the event. When seven-time winner Clarence De Mar owned the race in the early part of the 20^th century (he won his first in 1911 and his last in 1930), and when Boston icon Johnny Kelley was a presence for decades, completing 61 marathons, there were no wheelchair entrants for most of that time. In contrast, the marathon this year had both men’s and women’s wheelchair winners, a hand-bike category and men and women running with prosthetics.
The exhibit highlights some of those pioneers, including the father-and-son team of Dick and Rick Hoyt. Their story, according to the Team Hoyt website, began in the spring of 1977, when Rick, a quadriplegic with cerebral palsy due to being deprived of oxygen at birth, asked his father to run a 5-miler to raise money for a lacrosse player.
From that humble beginning, Dick, at 40, qualified for the 1981 Boston Marathon – he had to do so at the time (under 2 hours and 50 minutes) required by Rick, then 19, since he’d be pushing him. In the 37 years since, the pair has been a fixture at both the marathon and at area races, and they no longer compete in rudimentary wheelchairs, but in aerodynamic vehicles. The Hoyts’ chairs are made by Southbridge Tool and Manufacturing of Dudley, and company President Michael DiDonato said the chairs are designed to race. “We build them to be fast,” he said.
Many other features of the exhibit, including six customized devices and blade prosthetics courtesy of A Step Ahead Prosthetics of Burlington, similarly show how far both the marathon and society have come since the first Boston Marathon on April 19, 1897.
Runners owe the museum a debt of gratitude for providing some perspective on one of Boston’s iconic sporting events.