The Journey

Mile 20

I stood still as hundreds walked, shuffled,, and ran past. My shoulders shrugged forward, my eyes closed, and my head tilted forward as a stranger placed his hand on my upper arm and began to pray. I can’t recall the exact words that flowed from his mouth, but I can still hear the encouraging tone of voice and the strong and reassuring manor in which he spoke. The timing of his offer to raise my spirits through prayer came at the perfect time as I crossed through the intersection between the desire to push on and the looming defeat of quitting.

Mile -0

I spent countless hours training for this race, my 1st marathon, the majority of those alone with my only my thoughts as entertainment. I consider running therapy. As someone that finds enjoyment in the solidarity that running offers, I find it to be a perfect opportunity to not only recharge the soul but also to be active.

“What do you think about?” seems to be a consistent inquiry by outsiders intrigued by runners spending extensive amounts of time putting one foot in front of the other. I rarely find myself thinking about nothing, but often about everything. I can remember spending a great deal of my time leading up to Chicago thinking about crossing the finish line — imagining what the feeling of personal success, and gratification of achieving my goals might feel like. You don’t often focus on what it might feel like to fail until you are facing it.

Mile 13.1

There was a shooting pain across my left knee growing in intensity with every step. Imagine a large rubber band stretching from your hip, down and across your knee before attaching to the side of your shin. Next imagine that with every bend of your knee this rubber band feels near it’s breaking point. This type of discomfort cannot be ignored and must be respected.

I am far too familiar with this ailment, having been previously diagnosed with it after a 27 mile hiking trip. I hobbled off the mountain and towards my car lingering behind my hiking partners wondering what I had done. I spent months working with a physical therapist, taking weeks off from running, becoming educated about stretching, and learning the hard way what overuse can do to your body. This was my first (but not last) lesson in reigning in my over-zealousness to achieve more than I am capable of at that time.

My older brother was right there with me as we crossed the half way point of the race. I urged him to move on and run his own race, not wanting to hold him back. After some discussion and push back on his part I watched him move off into the crowd ahead. From here on out I was by myself, or so I thought.

Mile 6

We were nearing a quarter of the way done, still feeling fresh. My brother had settled into a pace slightly slower than mine but keeping me in sight. Crowds lined the streets in all directions as we passed north through downtown Chi-town. There was a constant flow of supporters holding signs and yelling words of encouragement. Every so often there would be a high school band or local artist — out on a brisk October morning providing a distraction from the runner’s task at hand.

Personally I feel the essence of a road marathon can be found in the crowds. The cost of supporting loved ones and complete strangers alike is vastly underrated. Brushing aside the need for sleep and general personal comfort are those that stand strong for hours at end to catch a glimpse of someone they know pass by on their journey. As a runner those moments where I do get to see a familiar and friendly face are sometimes all I can focus on. This might seem in juxtaposition to my earlier stance on running as therapy, but the boost provided by a loving smile even if only for a moment when racing is truly priceless.

Mile 23

Physically running a marathon is hard — emotionally it is harder. The roller-coaster of emotions you feel as you cover 26.2 miles takes a toll on your mental state. I always imagined I might cry as I crossed the finish line — tears of joy. I instead found myself fighting them off as I alternated between a walk and a shuffled run. It was hard, near impossible to not focus on the feeling of failure. My knee hurt, but inside is where I felt the most pain. I wanted so badly to prove to my loved ones and to myself that I could do this. There was zero chance I would drop from the race — crossing the finish line was a necessity in my mind.

I had been expecting to see family as I neared mile 23. My best friend was planning to join me for the last 5k push towards the finish at Grant Park. With every flash in my mind of her seeing me crawling towards them, far behind the clock and far short of my goals I could not help but wipe away the tears. As they came into focus I found myself encouraged. I asked how my brother was fairing, assuming he had come through strong — to find out he joined me in finding struggle, but also forged ahead. I provided an update about how I felt and my best friend jumped right in and got me moving. I can remember admiring her focus to keep me in a positive place and moving forward — she knew how important it was for me to finish.

Mile 0

Goosebumps covered my body, caused by a mix of anxious nerves and a brisk morning wind. I was under-dressed for an early October morning along the lakefront and was looking forward to the self warming affect running would have as I got moving. The corrals filled quickly with runners of all kinds. Running does not discriminate — age, gender, color, ability — none of that matters if you have the desire and will to toe the line. I admire the wheelchair competitors that set out prior to the elites — I envy the speed the elites possess as they push off before the average Joe’s — I relate to the average Joe’s because I am one — and I feel encouraged by all those that don’t quit and finish among the last for the day, but just as close to the front in determination and willpower. After the gun fired and the mass of runners made their way up Columbus Ave and out of Grant Park there was a buzz in the air as forty-five thousand hopeful runners began their journey that day — I wondered what mine would end up being.

Mile 26.2

As I neared the finish chute amidst the deafening cheers of spectators I didn’t feel as much emotion as I had expected too. I was super happy to be crossing the finish line and knocking out this first marathon. I did it. Maybe not as quickly as I wanted. Maybe not feeling the way I had expected. But I finished.

“Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up” — Dean Karnazes

I knew this would not be my last marathon and I knew I would take this experience and learn from it. There are endless lessons we can learn from pushing our limits, lessons beyond our physical abilities. I was proud I did not quit, but I was already looking forward to redemption. That day was a microcosm of what being a runner is all about. I may have moved forward for a marathons distance, but it was merely a sprint in the overall distance of my journey as a runner.