Back home, three days removed, the questions started. I went to my 7-Eleven and saw the same clerk I buy my beer and questionable lunch choices from. “Did you race today?”He didn’t respond, but he was probably just busy ringing up a sophomore’s mango Juuls.After that three-day mark, the most common response was “”—an expression of simultaneous comprehension at what I’d said and confusion at why I’d said it.
This response took my social experiment in an unexpected existential direction: proof that people are indeed good by nature. Every one of them put up with my crap here. Yes, they were taken aback, perplexed, and a little worried, but they were too kind to downplay my accomplishment of running Boston. Not a single soul suggested I remove my medal.and still congratulated me as if I’d just sprinted down Boylston.
-wielding server saw my chest and recognized the medal. “Did you run Boston?!” As soon as I nodded, he ran around the counter to press a handshake and hug. I almost teared up.
lyonsybrily oh dear
That’s my brother Matthew Luke Meyer
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