When Kathrine Switzer became the first woman to officially run the Boston Marathon 50 years ago, two miles in, the director tried to physically remove the 20-year-old, grabbing her and yelling, “Get out of my race!” This year Switzer returns to run the 26.2 miles, but the organizers will be honoring her instead of trying to throw her out.
Back in 1967, women weren’t allowed to run the Boston Marathon. Experts believed miles of pounding the pavement would make their uteruses fall out. (That’s not a joke, people believed that.) When women ran just 800 meters at the 1928 Olympics, doctors implored them to never let that happen again, so it wasn’t until 1960 that female competitors could run a race over 200 meters at the Olympic Games. Major marathons, like Boston, didn’t view women any differently, barring them altogether.
Switzer was able to enter Boston in 1967 because organizers thought she was a man. On her application she used her initials K.V. Switzer, and thus organizers issued her a bib. Everything was going fine for Switzer early in the race, starting among 740 men without incident. But a couple miles in, when the media bus passed the pack to follow the leaders, a member of the press spotted Switzer and said to race director Jock Semple, “Hey, Jock, you’ve got a broad on your hands today.”
Semple, incensed, ran after Switzer and tried to rip off her bib number and pull her out of the race. But before he could get a firm hold Switzer’s boyfriend, Tom Miller, ran over and shoulder checked him away from her.
“You know, we laugh about it now because it's so funny when a girl is saved by her burly boyfriend,” Switzer recently told NPR. “I said to my coach immediately after the incident, ‘I have to finish this race now because if I drop out of this race, nobody's going to believe that women are serious.’” And so she persevered and finished.
The photo of Semple trying to grab Switzer became an iconic symbol of women fighting for their rightful place in sports. By 1972, Boston officially changed its policy to allow women to enter the race, and in 1984 the Olympics, finally added the women’s marathon. Switzer continued to race, winning the 1974 New York Marathon and taking second in Boston two years later.
Today, at 70 years old, Switzer is running with the same bib number she wore 50 years ago, No. 261, and when she crosses the finish line, the Boston Marathon will retire it in recognition of her contribution to women’s sports.
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Grieving couple comforting each other
This response to someone grieving a friend might be the best internet comment ever
When someone is hit with the sudden loss of a friend or loved one, words rarely feel like enough. Yet, more than a decade ago, a wise Redditor named GSnow shared thoughts so profound they still bring comfort to grieving hearts today.
Originally posted around 2011, the now-famous reply was rediscovered when Upvoted, an official Reddit publication, featured it again to remind everyone of its enduring truth. It began as a simple plea for help: “My friend just died. I don't know what to do.”
What followed was a piece of writing that many consider one of the internet’s best comments of all time. It remains shared across social media, grief forums, and personal messages to this day because its honesty and metaphor speak to the raw reality of loss and the slow, irregular path toward healing.
Below is GSnow’s full reply, unchanged, in all its gentle, wave-crashing beauty:
Why this advice still matters
Mental health professionals and grief counselors often describe bereavement in stages or phases, but GSnow’s “wave theory” gives an image more relatable for many. Rather than a linear process, grief surges and retreats—sometimes triggered by a song, a place, or a simple morning cup of coffee.
In recent years, this metaphor has found renewed relevance. Communities on Reddit, TikTok, and grief support groups frequently reshare it to help explain the unpredictable nature of mourning.
Many readers say this analogy helps them feel less alone, giving them permission to ride each wave of grief rather than fight it.
Finding comfort in shared wisdom
Since this comment first surfaced, countless people have posted their own stories underneath it, thanking GSnow and passing the words to others facing fresh heartbreak. It’s proof that sometimes, the internet can feel like a global support group—strangers linked by shared loss and hope.
For those searching for more support today, organizations like The Dougy Center, GriefShare, and local bereavement groups offer compassionate resources. If you or someone you know is struggling with intense grief, please reach out to mental health professionals who can help navigate these deep waters.
When grief comes crashing like the ocean, remember these words—and hang on. There is life between the waves.
This article originally appeared four years ago.