Marathon Monday
Today was the 112th running of the Boston Marathon. I have been the fortunate beneficiary of a day off on Patriot's Day for much of my life but this is the first time I have ever lived anywhere near the race route. I am a fan of endurance cycling. I watch as much of the Tour de France as my July schedule and cable subscription will allow and I've even started following other cycling races. But I've never really followed running (I prefer not to feel badly about how slowly I run) and there's still enough stupid, adolescent contrariness in me that I often eschew events that draw large crowds just for the (empty) superior feeling I get from feigning indifference. So I was a little surprised this morning when a some subconscious timer went off, awakening my curiosity and prompting me to jump on-line and track the runners. I soon rerouted my morning plans, got dressed and walked ten minutes down my street to Beacon where the Elite women were due to be passing momentarily, conscious with every foot fall that in the time it took me to walk from my house to the course the runners would have covered almost two miles.
I went and stood along Beacon Street and watched the arrival of the Elite Women, the arrival of the Elite Men and the passage of many others including Lance Armstrong. I cried as the first runners in each category came by. There is something very moving to me about hundreds of thousands of people coming out to clap and cheer for someone they don't know doing one of the most essentially human activities I can think of. I think running is beautiful and because it's so aerobic it sort of is 'all heart' and it's such a pointless activity that you don't really do it unless it is meaningful to you. I loved seeing people run by, smiling proudly about a personal best; hear the crowd encourage runners who had written their names on their body by shouting at them like old familiars "Way to go Tom!" "Only a few more miles John." "Home stretch Mike. You can do it!" Strangers become neighbors. Little gestures, like the man who runs pushing his son in a wheelchair the entire 26.2 miles, become legends as the crowd talks up the lore "He does it every year you know." "And look at his time. He's fast enough to win but he loves to run with his son."
If I may say so, my life has been much easier than some, but never quite so smooth as those I live among. For this reason and the other stones life throws in all our paths I have my share of conflict, inner turmoil, shame, low self-esteem and other insecurities to battle. And in my mind there is no greater conquest over those demons than the unimagined physical feat. I do not know what the 25,000 runners on the course overcame today to be at this race and run --their best or their worst, to finish or to fall short, to have another feather in their cap or to prove this one thing to themselves-- but I do know that it takes a long time and a lot of commitment to run a marathon. I do know that sometimes you have to lace up your shoes and get out there even when you don't feel like it because there is something better at the end of the journey. And when I see these athletes --all shapes, sizes, genders and ages-- doing what I feel like I have to do every day I don't feel so alone anymore. I feel like maybe some of those people are cheering for me. So that I will keep going and know it's really not much farther.
Congratulations to everyone who ran today. Thank you for the moving moments. It is inspiring that there are human beings who can run a mile faster than I can get dressed, forget 26 of them in a row! Thanks for lacing up your shoes and going for it this morning. I'll see you in the home stretch.
