You’ll note that my supposedly regular Marathon Mondays petered out recently.
Big surprise.
I cannot seem to keep up any particular practice on this blog.
(I also find it difficult to follow the arrows in parking lots.)
Still, the ill-fated series deserves, at least, a wrap up.
And this is that:
A marathon is a long, hard slog.
Not 26.2 miles but actually four months and hundreds of miles.
Many in the dark, many alone, some with sore feet and a head cold.
Others, bright, crisp and welcome.
It’s kind of a crazy thing to do, really.
Plenty of people make a point of saying so and I halfway agree.
But people run marathons for a million and one reasons — to get fit, prove a point, raise money, beat odds.
To pound good intentions into the planet, one footfall at a time.
My reasons were those and others.
Some of them, quite frankly, got lost in the shuffle.
(Which, incidentally, is what the last three miles of the race looked and felt like.)
In the end, I’m less concerned with why I ran and more concerned with being grateful.
To have been on the journey — mind games, missed sleep, Gu and all.
To have had the enduring companionship of my running partners, near and far.
To have made it to the starting line.
To have made it to the finish line.
To have looked all sorts of stuff in the face along the way.
I had a list in my zippered pocket of 26 people to think about during the race on Sunday.
And what was most amazing to me was how often I thought, as I looked at the next name, "She’s been running quite the marathon herself…" or "He survived a grueling race (or didn’t)…"
It made me feel not at all alone as I ran, but more importantly it stepped me outside of myself with the very visceral reminder that we are all on our own long journeys… often in the dark, frequently alone, with sore feet and head colds.
I’m moved beyond measure when I think of what each good person on this planet does in crawling out of bed in the morning and moving forward. Fueled by need or passion, order or desire.
Compared to all that, a marathon’s a jog in the park.
So, on that note, I’m signing off for the night, wishing each of you many miles of bright, crisp and welcome…
Namaste.
Go, Mom! At the risk of sounding incredibly condescending (which is not at all my intent), I’m so proud of you! The marathon, and the training it takes to complete one, is rife with metaphors for life…and writing…and anything worthwhile, really. It’s a huge accomplishment and such a great example of discipline and commitment for your two girls.
I’m toying with the idea of training for one for this fall to celebrate turning 40 in October. I keep trying to ignore the urge, though. 🙂
Do it!!!
And I’m grateful you’ve been blogging your marathon experience whenever you could. Your writing is close to the bone, and it’s a gift to read your words.
P.S. Those arrows in parking lots just take you round in circles anyway. Up, up and away!
Thanks so much for posting about the whole experience. I’m full of admiration, and grateful for the inspiration. As Kristy said, a great metaphor for life.
Hooray for you! I thought of you the whole 26+ miles.
whoa.
what. a. ride.
beautifully traveled, beautifully captured.
Congratulations on finishing both the marathon and the journey leading up to it. I’m sorry I missed seeing you when you came by the house.
hokgardner
I’ve been honored to share every part of your journey that you have shared with us. My hat’s off to you in oh so many ways.
Yours is a life well-lived. Not everyone can say that. Even though it is just (so far) here in cyberspace, I know my life is richer for having known you.
Oh, shucks, Susan. Now I’m all choked up!
gratitude
That I got to witness you along the way. Loved it. And your telling of it.
Bernadette
Tanita Says:
So. Proud. Of. You.
And so inspired.
You guys are all super swell and supportive and I thank you for that. It’s funny, being on one’s own little path and then discovering that companions are everywhere…