Sonder from Mile 25
Written and Edited By: Angelica Marin ‘27
A few weeks ago, on April 21st, or better known as 2025’s Marathon Monday, I got emotional. You may be curious, especially as BU students, where I possibly could’ve been to make me feel anything other than that particular euphoria that comes with a 7 a.m. wake-up call and a swarmed T ride to Allston.
To answer that question, I was at mile 25 of the Boston Marathon.
My friends and I tapped out of the festivities rather early, opting to head to the Boston Common for some people watching. As we left my friend’s South Campus brownstone, we happened upon the last stretch of one of the most difficult races in the world.
While walking along Beacon Street and Kenmore Square, I felt a potent feeling bubbling within me. Not quite astonishment, though that was there too, but something far more personal, something I could only feel about another human being. It sounds silly, but I was proud. I felt so incredibly proud of all these strangers next to me. I was overwhelmed by the sounds of cow bells, drunken spectators, and screams of encouragement, yet all I could feel was an immense gratitude for being human.
I felt so grateful that, on a random Monday, I could watch dreams being achieved. Each and every person on that course woke up one morning thinking, "I want to run a marathon." And now they were doing it. And for some reason, I got to be there. I can’t tell you why it inspired such a feeling in me, but it is a feeling that I have been unable to forget about.
It must have been something about being so close to the finish line, but I couldn’t help but think about all of the lives each of these people had lived to get them here. Some might’ve walked to the start line from their homes, others flew thousands of miles to get there. Some may have been running track since high school, and others may have decided only six months ago that they wanted to do this. Regardless, they all accomplished something that would remain with them for the rest of their lives.
While watching this happen, I began to recognize another feeling that lay dormant in these sentiments: sonder.
Sonder is defined by Dictionary.com as “the feeling one has on realizing that every other individual one sees has a life as full and real as one’s own.” Watching hundreds of people run their final mile to the finish line, I could not help but consider everything they felt, everyone waiting for them when they finished, who they would be celebrating with, how their bodies would recover after this taxing event, and so much more. I realized then that I was unconsciously putting myself in the shoes of people I had never met, let alone spoken to. I was an objective observer, utterly irrelevant to each of their lives, and equally irrelevant to mine. Still, by considering the intricacies of the lives of total strangers, I could think who they were, how they felt, and how their lives might affect them. I was unknowingly practicing empathy.
Being empathetic, or rather not being able to, is the core of so many major interpersonal conflicts throughout all of human existence. When we are unable to consider the viewpoints, emotions, and experiences of others, we are incapable of connection and compromise. As a spectator of the Boston Marathon, I did not need a connection or compromise. Still, it never hurts to enhance the possibility of either of those outcomes, regardless of the circumstances.
Nothing bad comes from trying to consider one another more. You can never do somebody wrong by attempting to step into their shoes. Try it sometime. Or maybe, like it did for me, it will spring itself upon you when you least expect it.