Twenty years ago, around this time of year, I decided to apply for an MBA program. I was working in investment banking at the time, and by the final year of the three-year analyst program, you could either hope to get promoted to associate or go to business school. If you did neither, you'd end up in a tough situation—without a promotion or an MBA, you'd be searching for new job opportunities.
I applied to two business schools—Stanford and Harvard. Stanford didn’t even offer me an interview, but Harvard accepted me.
I could write a lot about that period of my life, but here’s the short version: that year turned out to be very successful at work, and I would have undoubtedly received the promotion. However, the MBA application had to be submitted in advance. Once I was accepted, there was no turning back. You don’t turn down Harvard Business School, do you? For many years, I regretted the decision. Many of my former colleagues were making lots of money and advancing their careers, while I took a significant step back, without fully understanding why I had made that choice. Yes, Harvard was super prestigious, and I was proud of being accepted, but the detour from my career haunted me for years. In fact, it still does, even twenty years later. Since graduating from HBS, I’ve faced too many setbacks and experienced far too many professional failures.
Anyway, I spent two years in Boston from 2005 to 2007. At the time, it was just me, my wife, and our first child, who was born just months before we moved to Boston. To be precise, we lived in Cambridge, across the river from Boston. I’ll always remember the address: 1000 Memorial Drive, Cambridge. Our second son was born as I was finishing the program in the spring of 2007.
I’ve never returned to Boston since then. We’ve been in the U.S. for the last 11 years without interruption, yet somehow we never visited the place that, after all, played such a special role in our life journey.
Well, last week I signed up for the Boston Marathon. My qualifying time has a huge cushion (over 25 minutes), so while everyone is worried about the cut-off times and not getting accepted even after meeting the formal qualifying standards, I’m relaxed. I will be accepted. We find out in the next few weeks.
So, I’ll be back in Boston for the first time in 20 years.
I have to admit something: I often exaggerate the 'I-started-running-during-COVID' part of my running journey. I had always run. For example, I ran in Boston throughout my two-year program. I ran countless times along the Charles River, looking at the Boston skyline, counting bridges, and passing friendly runners of all ages and backgrounds. I ran alone, and I ran with our little son Max in the jogging stroller. Some days, I ran to embrace the beautiful warm sky; other days, I battled the howling cold wind. I was much slower then. I hadn’t run a marathon yet, and when I finally did in my late twenties, I struggled to break four hours. But I ran.
On April 21, 2025, I will be running the streets I last walked twenty years ago. I just checked last year’s results, and a top-ten age group finish is not a crazy target. At the time of the race, I will have moved to the 45-49 age group. A sub-2:40 result should get me there. Somehow, I need to shave about five minutes off my PR on a course that’s not exactly known for setting PRs. If I stay injury-free, I believe I can get there. There’s a lot of hard work ahead, but either way, it should be a special experience. In recent years, I’ve only run smaller marathons in Southern California. Boston should be a grand experience, and I’m looking forward to it.
Not everything has gone smoothly in my life journey since my MBA at Harvard twenty years ago, but running has. I never could have imagined it. Really.
“More than a feeling” by Boston is playing in my head, as I’m writing this.
This photo is from Boston, November 2005.
By the way, the little dude in the baby carrier is the same one who recently paced me to a sub-five-minute mile attempt (which I failed):
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I’ve run Boston twice and like you I am waiting for word on this year. It’s a special one. New York, where I live, has a bigger and more democratic approach- no time qualification- where anybody can try to get in.
But Boston feels special. The town takes the day off for it, and there’s a post-race party at Fenway to look forward to as well.
It sounds like you’ll be there. Have fun, maybe even be a tourist about it.