NEW YORK CITY MARATHON Vs BOSTON MARATHON

It was a cold and windy day at the New York City Marathon yesterday, but I still had runner envy all weekend long.  Of all the marathons I’ve run, New York is the one where I ache to go back to. I can’t help but see New York and Boston as the top two big city marathons around, at least in the Eastern United States. The two are ripe for comparisons like a Honey Crisp Apple and a Blood Red Orange. 
But which is better? New York and Boston have been fighting since the days of Babe Ruth to answer such questions.  For a much more in depth discussion, check this link with Chicago thrown in the mix.(Chicago’s a great, accessible ‘must-run’ big marathon, but not worth the comparison IMAO) (In My Arrogant Opinion)
Some of my reasons for the NY love:First, a stupid one: New York seems to take place on the day you gain an hour of sleep.  Set your clocks back and sleep an extra hour (Or have marathon evening insomnia for one extra hour.)  How perfect is that? but after you get up, it’s even better. 
New York’s start. Getting to the start is much more scenic. You can’t beat the subway ride full of excited runners, and then the ferry ride past the statue of liberty. Boston was a tough bus ride to the start along the highway followed by stop and go, bumper to bumper traffic. The trip to get to the New York start via subway to Staten Island to Ferry was a joy and part of my whole memory burn. 
The start over the Verrazano bridge in New York, with cannons booming and police helicopters humming, was more magnification than Boston starting in Hopkinton. It was very cool to see the Hopkinton sign in person, and there were still plenty of chills with the flyover and ghosts of marathons past in the air, but NY has a start unlike none other. The hugest city in the world, and you can see it all from atop a bridge at the start of an incredible journey. I felt like Frodo looking at Mt. Doom in the distance.  To plagiarize this article:
If you run one marathon in your life, you should run NY. Standing on the Verrazonao Bridge with 45,000 other runners and a path before you that weaves through all five boroughs is an incredible. experience. People from all over the world come to run it. The crowds are amazing and will make you feel like all 2 million of them are cheering for you. 
New York is crazy organized. Crazy. Like there’s a urinal just for you in your own little personal corral and with no lines at the start. This is important stuff for middle-aged guy who’s working on his flow. At the finish of New York, I've heard plenty of complaints about how far you have to walk to get out of the chute. This strikes me as akin to hearing an ultra-marathoner complain about not finding a close parking spot at the mall. You run dozens of miles, you can walk a bit. It feels good and like an extended victory lap.
NY seems more international than Boston. Of course, it is Patriots Day, so it makes sense that Boston is more uniquely American. In general, I would say that the crowds are equal, but to a degree it feels like Boston is cheering as much for themselves as they are cheering for the runners.   They have a right to. 
The happiest spectators on Earth that I’ve experienced are in Brooklyn. Maybe since I hadn’t a care in the world about my finishing time when I ran New York made me notice and interact with the crowd more. I  hope to see the Brooklyn crowd again one day, cheering for me the same way, singing:  ♪♫Welcome Back, to that same old place that you laughed about. Well the names have all changed since you hung around, but the dreams have remained and they’ve turned around…♫ ♪

Boston isn’t even run in Boston.  Only the last portion. You run through historic neighborhoods and then see it in the distance, a Citgo sign citing its presence like God’s big eye in the sky. The moments running in Boston are incredible, and the finish at Boylston street tops New York. The gravity pull of Boston's finish line is a force that should be felt by all. There is a wooshing noise on that street that I think all marathoners feel and remember. I ran it with a ring in my pocket, ready to present to my wife at the finish for our tenth anniversary. (thus, Macon from my novel, On the Lips of Children, planned to do the same, but his race was a bit more bloody.)

Boston has history and heritage that New York could never have, and seems more of the runner's race than the people's race. It is more prestigious, since Regular Joe knows that running Boston means something pretty cool.  And for many of us, like me, earning  the right to get to the starting line is a bucket list type achievement. It is not just a weekend, but a concept that loomed large all year long.  It started the day I tried to qualify, with visions of the starting line dancing in my head. New York, I only had to battle Hurricane Sandy and paying twice for airfare to get there. Boston forced me to battle all the little demons inside me for a decade or so to get to the start, so as a whole, the experience looms larger. But as for race day itself, nothing beats New York.