ON THE MORNING OF APRIL 15, 38,500 worshippers from all over the world will descend upon the tiny town of Hopkinton, Massachusetts. In a bizarre rite, they will shed most of their clothes, spread petroleum jelly over the more sensitive parts of their bodies and affix little timekeepers to their shoelaces. Then, as the appointed hour of noon approaches, they will either stand in line at one of the 750 portable toilets or, much to the chagrin of Hopkinton's 10,000 regular residents, go natural. At the report from a gun, they will try to race 26 miles, 385 yds., all the...
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