Faced With Fundraising a Second Time, Boston Charity Runners Cry Foul
Robyn Godfrey of Wilmington, North Carolina, was set to run the 2020 Boston Marathon for the first time, as a charity runner for the 26.2 Foundation. She had raised more than the $8,500 she had promised before the original race day, April 20, with a combination of personal appeals, restaurant fundraisers (for instance, one evening in December 2019, a local Chipotle donated a portion of sales to every customer who walked in with one of her flyers) and other events.
She even worked with a race director of a popular half marathon and 5K in Wilmington, who promised her he would donate $25 for every volunteer she rounded up to help at his race. That netted $500 after she corralled 20 friends. She also kicked in a $1,500 contribution on her own.
Then the pandemic hit, and Godfrey—along with everyone else in the running community—watched with dismay as the Boston Marathon, originally scheduled for April 20, was postponed until September, then finally canceled altogether.
The Boston Athletic Association (BAA) is offering a virtual version of the race in September, which Godfrey, 54, plans to run. And her charity, the 26.2 Foundation, which promotes marathoning and other health, wellness, and economic development initiatives, has already told her that if they have bibs, she can run again next year—if she raises an additional $4,000.
That would bring her two-year fundraising total to more than $12,500, and she’s not sure if she can swing it. “I just don’t know if it’s really doable,” she told Runner’s World, as the pandemic is affecting her preferred fundraising methods. “Plus, I feel bad asking all the same people to donate again.”
It’s a common refrain from charity runners. Having worked to raise large amounts of money—five-figure sums in many cases—they don’t think they can turn around and ask the people in their networks to support them a second time.
Lisa Cowgill, for instance, raised $15,000 for House of Possibilities. “Family and friends have lost jobs and taken pay cuts,” she wrote in an email, “so raising $15,000 again will not be possible for me.”
Breanna Allen, 25, was raising money for Doc Wayne, a nonprofit that combines sports and therapy to help at-risk youth, and she was expected to raise $11,000. “This marathon was my only chance at ever running Boston,” she wrote in an email. “I’ll never qualify (nor do I want to), and I cannot ask my family and friends for another $11,000.”
Runners say they understand the risks from Covid-19 and why the race had to be canceled. They’re just wishing the BAA would offer a place in a future race—“It could be five years from now,” one charity runner said—without having to raise the money all over again. (In contrast, New York City Marathon organizers are allowing runners who were entered for the November 2020 race through a charity to defer their entry to any of the next three years. They have to fundraise only once.)
But the BAA is offering no deferments until 2021 for anyone—not for qualified runners, not for charity runners.
Qualified runners will have to apply again for 2021 entry, starting in September. And the BAA announced that the 171 total charities that receive bibs through its charity program will be invited back for next year. But it’s up to each nonprofit team whether to invite the same runners back for 2021, and if so, if they’ll have to fundraise again. The BAA also raises the possibility that next year’s field will be smaller and entries for qualified and charity runners will be cut proportionally.
“At the highest level, we have treated all 31,500 participants in the 2020 Boston Marathon the same by offering a full refund of entry fees—including runners affiliated with a charity team,” a BAA spokesperson wrote to Runner’s World in a written statement on July 2. “With the 2021 Boston Marathon being just nine short months away, and with the unknown nature of the pandemic, no participants were offered deferments for next year.”
Nonprofits granted bibs manage their “own application process, athlete selection, and fundraising minimums, deadlines, and requirements,” the statement read. “This has been the Official Charity Program policy since its inception, and we respect each nonprofit organization’s right to manage their unique process.”
The pandemic has created a unique quandary for charities that are lucky enough to have Boston bibs. They’ve never encountered circumstances quite like these.
Elizabeth Tirrell, executive director of Tedy’s Team, which raises awareness of stroke symptoms and funds stroke research, said their 2020 team had 45 people who were required to raise $7,500 apiece in exchange for a bib number. (The team also had six members who were qualified runners or who held invitational entries and fundraised at a lower level.)
Only three runners haven’t yet met their 2020 fundraising commitments, and the team is requiring them to finish fundraising, Tirrell said. She points out that it wouldn’t be fair that some people completed what they promised while others were let out of their obligation. Plus, the nonprofit raises money exclusively through running events like Boston and the Falmouth Road Race; there are no galas or golf tournaments. Money that’s not raised is “money we are not using toward our mission—research, education, and financial assistance for survivors and caregivers,” she said.
What will happen to Tedy’s Team in 2021? That’s anyone’s guess. Their priority is to make sure their rookies—people who were supposed to run Boston for the first time this year—get first dibs on any bibs the team is granted from the B.A.A. There will definitely be a fundraising commitment for next year, and Tirrell is unsure if it will be $7,500 or a discounted rate. “We have already explained they would have to fundraise something,” she said. “I know we have to charge; I don’t know what yet.”
For Allen, a Massachusetts native, any shot at 2021 seems out of the question. She went from non-runner to completing a 17-miler on March 31, the day before the race was postponed, but fundraising proved harder. She remains about $1,500 short of her 2020 commitment.
Friends and family donated with the expectation of seeing her run a marathon and she won’t ask them to give again. “This was a dream of mine that I was making a reality, and now it all feels lost,” she wrote. “I’m so glad I was able to raise money for Doc Wayne, and I do not regret that. But I am heartbroken at knowing my one chance is gone.”
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