Hello again from Austin, where I had a wonderful Sunday last watching the Austin Marathon 2020 instead of walking it as I have the two years prior. Totally cool to watch, though I was a little jealous (in a good way) of the all the people that participated. I hope to do a three-peat next year, but my left leg reminded me all day of why I wasn’t in it this year. Ended up walking over ten miles just going from place to place, catching up to cheer on my son Thomas and one my adopted kids, James, and my friend Molly.
I have several adopted kids, having accumulated then over the years. Most of them are at least one of my children’s friends, and all of them have their own legitimate parents, but they’re part of my family as well. I’ve watched them grow up, some faster than others, have cooked hundreds of meals for them, recently maybe poured them a drink or two, but over the years have mostly enjoyed their company, have laughed with them, sometimes cried, and had some wonderful conversations. My dad was very much that way – my friends were his friends, and even if I was away at school or travelling, they would come over to see him.
Anyway, back to the marathon. I love marathons, but mostly I love what they represent. Every participant has trying to fulfill a goal! They signed up at some point in the past, and for the most part, did everything necessary to get into physical and mental shape to get across that finish line. Needless to say, they aren’t easy, but then again, many of the good things in life aren’t either. To get there, there are things one has to do, and everyone’s trajectory is different, but they all involve some sort of preparation.
The first marathon finish I watched was nearly twenty-five years ago, in New York City. We were visiting friends and by chance, it coincided with the running of the NY marathon, and they lived just off Columbus Circle, so after the crowds subsided, we walked through the park, my park, to the finish line. The elite runners were long gone, had already showered, had their ice-baths, a long lunch and were probably taking a nap. Admirable indeed, but I witnessed a couple things that were equally admirable, and I’ll never forget. One was a pair of blind runners running behind a pacer with a small bell on his shirt. The other was a guy with a prosthetic leg from about mid-thigh down. It wasn’t a high-tech spring like we see today, it was a fairly bulky prosthesis, certainly not designed for running a marathon. And on his shirt, in handwritten letters, it said “one leg, one kidney, one heart”. And here I was, healthy, with all my senses and body intact, and just thought “wow”. I was younger then, and admit I really didn’t fully understand and appreciate what I had just seen. I get it a little more now.
The second marathon I watched was also in New York, also by chance. I was up there for the weekend, not something I regularly do, but a couple of days prior, my beloved vizsla had been hit by a car and passed on the dog heaven, no questions asked, for he was a saint. That was a Thursday, and early Friday morning we were on a plane to the city, having given Isabela, my youngest, the passwords to my Southwest and Hilton accounts with instructions to get us out of town, fast. So here we were, the first Sunday of November, 2016, staying a couple of blocks away from Central Park South, We ambled over to Columbus Circle, found a great spot right where the runners turn in to the park, about a quarter mile away from their goal, and where we spent most of the day, another day I won’t soon forget.
The first group to come across were the wheelchair racers. These are people who “have a qualifying disability,” be it an amputation, spinal cord injuries or cerebral palsy, among others. What they do have however is an enormous will, and heart, and they were pushing as hard as they could to reach the finish line after 26 miles! Unbelievable and incredible, and reality check number one. All I could say to myself was “dude, you’ve got everything intact – you can see, you can walk, you’re relatively free of pain… quit feeling sorry for yourself”. Admittedly, I was, and I was kind of wallowing in self-pity. It wasn’t the best time of my life, I had just lost my dear dog, hurt like absolute hell, but by that afternoon, all that was gone.
Then the first runners zinged by, amazing, incredible, sprinting by as if they had started a mile ago, yet it was in fact 26. And after a few minutes, the “normal” runners came by, with sub-three-hour finishes. I watched them all, looked at their faces, their eyes, and started to think beyond what I was witnessing. Every one of these runners had a goal. They had either qualified or gotten lucky, but they were running the New York Marathon! And you don’t just run the NY marathon just like that… it takes preparation, it takes resolve, determination, and a routine to get you there. I was in awe.
By the end of the day, about 50.000 runners had crossed in front of us. I looked directly at many of them, I was amazed. I did the mental math… fifty thousand times twenty-six is roughly one million, three hundred thousand miles, in just a few hours – that’s a whole lot of man-miles! I just looked it up – that’s two round trips to moon, another one-way and halfway back. Super cool, but then I thought about the hundreds of miles that were spent training… hundreds for most people, running along city streets, trails, all over the place, in all parts of the world. And the diets, the food regiments, the sacrifice, the digital watches, the apps, the shoes, the socks… Really fun to think about, and admirable. It was a long day that changed my course, and an inspiration for what came later in my life.
Last Sunday was fun too. I drove Thomas and James downtown and we walked together to the starting corrals. It was a chilly morning full of anticipation, and I just loved watching the faces of all the runners. It’s easy to tell the veterans from the newbies, the former being totally cool and collected, the latter having a look of terror in their eyes. I know, I was there, and my first start was one of the scariest moments of my recent life – failure was not an option. But oh, the relief… there is no better feeling than turning left onto Congress Avenue, the finish line in sight, and passing under that damn digital clock. So so cool to see the smiles through the exhaustion as finishers walked away from the course, obviously pleased with themselves, medals around their necks. It’s a really cool sense of accomplishment, and hats off to all 17,000 of you, you totally rock.
And for now, I have the running trails to myself, whereas last week they were crowded, full of runners in their last week of preparation. Hopefully they’re resting and recovering, and I hope to see them again soon.