To the ungodly hour breakfast makers and the tireless supporters.

To the expert massagers and the marinara sauce maestros.

To the rain-or-shine partners and the older brother driving five-miles-per-hour behind you.

For miles…and miles…and miles.

You’ve arrived.

To historic beginnings at Hopkington.

The chants of the masses in Ashland.

The fervor in Framingham.

The Natick fanatics.

To the women at Wellesley and

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

To the cowbellers and the sign holders.

The water givers and the blanket wrappers.

To the entire city united as one.

Nobody runs alone.