I won’t be racing the Boston Marathon this year; here’s why

This week, I had an awkward exchange with my running friend, Jim, who messaged to ask me how my training was going for Boston. I responded that I would not be attending Boston this year and that I will be heading to Halifax on May 18 to run the Blue Nose Marathon, instead. He expressed surprise. I asked how his training was going; he said it was going well, and that despite all of the political upheaval, he was still looking forward to being on the start line at Boston.

It will be Jim’s first time racing Boston. I spent a good part of last year cheering Jim on to his BQ and then sharing memories, tips and even books about the race. He is thrilled to have qualified, as well as he should be. Boston is an experience that almost defies description; the word “magical” is not an overstatement, no matter how many times you do it–but the first time is particularly special. I don’t begrudge him the experience one bit, though I admit that other people’s surprise in the face of my decision not to go surprises me. However, our situations are different and our decisions are individual.

I have registered for Boston every year since 2008, with some missed starts due to injury or circumstances getting in the way. I’ve done the right on Hereford, left on Boylston a dozen times in total.

For our little family, Boston has become a ritual–an excuse to see cherished friends and to visit special places, often with a week in Maine or Cape Cod tacked on to the race, to enjoy being near the ocean and let our dogs race in the surf of York Beach.

I always take the race seriously and train for it through the long, snowy Ontario winter. I’m proud that I’ve always managed to beat my bib number (which is assigned based on your position among qualifiers). My own personal unicorn is the (vain) hope of bettering my PB, set way back in 2009. As anybody who has run Boston will tell you, the course will almost inevitably defeat the best-laid training plans. But there’s always the hope that the stars will align, and if not, it’s Boston, and no matter what kind of race you run, Bostonians will treat you like a hero on Patriots’ Day.

My decision not to run Boston 2025 was already in the cards by mid-November 2024. By the end of January 2025, there was no doubt left in my mind. My impression of America has soured, and I simply don’t want to go there. If that means giving up Boston, then so be it. It’s not just the entry fee, but the couple of thousand dollars in accommodation that I don’t want to offer up to that country’s economy. At the moment, I have to remind myself not to conflate American friends with America writ large. (Ironically, most of these people became my friends from an online Boston Marathon forum in the mid-2000s.)

I write this fully aware that my choice is controversial, and that some people will accuse me of privilege, of being ungrateful, of “wasting” a spot at the starting line that hundreds of others would take in a heartbeat. Believe me, this decision was not a cavalier one. It’s personal one, and it’s what feels right for me. What others decide is their business. With Jim, I got the sense that we both left the conversation feeling that we needed to justify our choices to each other. Perhaps this is what saddens me the most.

I have been DNS at Boston on other occasions, and I reconciled myself to missing them. This time, however, it feels like a breakup, with the contingent feelings of hurt and betrayal. One thing is certain: on Patriots’ Day, I will be sad not to be there, and I will be thinking of everyone who is, including my friend Jim, running his very first Boston Marathon. On April 21, I will leave my house in the village of Rosseau, Ont., and go for a run. A long one. Maybe 42.2 kilometres. I’ll hum Sweet Caroline and be grateful for the landscape, and for the moment I am in.

Paula Roberts-Banks is an artist, writer and photographer who lives in Rosseau, Ont., with her husband Tim, three Labradors and a Snowy Bengal cat named Figment. She has run 30 marathons, 12 of them at Boston.