It was the day before Fathers’ Day. With the school year winding down, and summer beckoning, I found a few moments of quiet respite in my home. For the first time, in a very long time, I felt myself relaxing. Calmness and peace, two emotions I don’t experience often, were not as far away as they normally are.
This blog post will be a little different than the others. It might not end up as a coherent passage with one main theme. More, it’s a stream-of-conscious recollection of my experiences at this year’s New York City Marathon.
As I am writing this passage a week after I ran, I’m sure some of the most poignant and special things that I wanted to remember have been lost among the crowds, thrills, and emotions of this wonderful and inspiring annual event.
As a runner, I was Superman. But, that was a while ago.
When I started running marathons, I thought I was invincible.
I like to run. A lot. I like running very much (so I like running a lot). I also like to run a lot of miles (so I like running a lot). (I like when a sentence such as “I like running a lot” can be interpreted two different ways.)
When I run, which is most often on a treadmill at irrational hours of the early morning, I usually listen to music on my iPod. I often get inspired by inspiring songs. (I wonder how many other obvious statements I can write in this passage.)
I find every run, no matter what the distance, to be hard. Every single run presents a challenge.
I’m training for a marathon. This will be my 20th marathon. I’m excited and eager to get to the line and run this race. I think it will be my best race in a long time.
There’s only one problem.
The race is 34 weeks away.
It is probably somewhat normal, even for adults, to have favorite sports figures that they root for. Baseball, football, and hockey players, tennis and golf stars, auto racers, and others come to mind. With that being said, there are probably few people who have a professional marathoner for whom they root.
I am one of those people. I am fan of Meb Keflezighi. He’s a champion marathoner.
But it hasn’t always been that way.
For a short time, I was going to title this blog 26.2. Why 26.2? It’s simple, that’s the distance of a marathon.
I run marathons.
I’m not fast. I don’t ever win. If I finish in the top 20% of all runners in a given race, I am thrilled. Lately, as I get get older, I am becoming happy to finish in the top 50% of all runners.