A-weema-weh, a-weema-weh, a-weema-weh, a-weema-weh

Aside from the final sprint down Bolyston Street, the most exciting area along the route was Wellesley College.
When my husband ran the marathon in 2005, he told me that the Wellesley girls were begging him for kisses and screaming as if the male runners were the Beatles and the students were teenage girls from the 1960's waiting for an autograph.

Wellesley College students along the marathon route in the 60's?

Like a fisherman telling me he caught a fish "this big," I listened to his tall tales and assumed that there was maybe a handful of enthusiastic signs, but nothing too dramatic. Wellesley College is more or less the halfway point and set back from the road on a picturesque campus. After running past the campus' main entrance, the serene scene quickly morphed into hundreds of hysterically screaming women. A barrier had been set up along the road, and it must have been made out of the same material spaceships are built with, because these chicks were pushing against it like caged lions ready to pounce on and devour their prey. Thankfully, the ladies were contained.

Yikes!

Ear piercing screams for kisses combined with suggestive signs and t-shirt slogans made for a humorous, if not slightly intimidating scene. I watched brave soldiers selflessly enter the combat zone and surrender to the students' hugs and kisses, while most of us only dared to sneak glances as we ran past. Note to all single men out there who are looking for training motivation; I have two words for you: Wellesley College.