Twenty Years of Marathons
Twenty years ago today I slid (not strapped on; this is important) a pair of shoes on and got ready to run my first ever marathon. I wasn’t even aware how much I didn’t know about running long distance races but about two hours later, I learned the hard way. Clad in a three-quarter length cotton t-shirt, a far-too-bulky beaded necklace, metal-rimmed sunglasses, and a pair of slip-on, light-weight running shoes that were more suited for casual walking on a boat deck than 26.2 miles of running, I was taught many a valuable lesson that day. Lessons that, 163 more marathons later, I am still learning.
Yesterday also marks the two-year anniversary of my last marathon run. Since I began my marathoning adventure on November 11th, 2001, two months to the day after 9/11, I have never gone this long without running a marathon. 672 days was the amount of time between my first two marathons and prior to now I had normally hadn’t gone more than a few months, even at my longest droughts. But we never had a global pandemic in the past 20 years either.
So here I sit at 732 days between marathons and counting. I have none planned. I can’t even say I am looking at any to potentially run. I am partially gun-shy about the pandemic because, even as I am doubly-vaxxed, I am still aware that we are indeed in the middle of a viral outbreak that some people refuse to even admit exists and others want to pretend is over. Also, in spite of the fact I am likely to end up with the third most miles I have ever run in a year (2020 and 2019 being the first and second most mileage years respectively) I haven’t run a single run this year over 15 miles. Could I run a marathon? Almost at the drop of a hat. Would it be remotely a time I would be pleased with? Not even close.
That first marathon in Harrisburg, PA taught me a million things but one is that now that I had completed a marathon, I no longer just wanted to be a completionist. If others wish to just check boxes and collect non-precious medals, that is fine for them. But participating in a sport which has clock has always urged me to want to get to the finish line with as little of that clock going by as possible. Furthermore, I wasn’t going to participate in contrived “races” to keep some semblance of a marathoning streak alive. I put a great deal of pride into what I do and the message I try to share with others and I refuse to compromise that.
Will I run another marathon? I mean, I would be shocked if I don’t soon, to be honest. I crave to race. I love the atmosphere. I can’t believe that the sport which left me limping for days twenty years ago today has helped fashion of life for me now. I have accomplished athletic feats seemingly impossible, have pushed myself to the limit and here, twenty years later, am still devising ways to continue to set new personal bests.
I still have that t-shirt and those shoes. They are a reminder of me of that day, not that I really need much of one. I finished that race, called home to tell my mom how I had done, and was told my beloved grandmother had passed away during the night. Believe me, I don’t need tokens to keep it in my mind what happened that day. In fact, I don’t have my very first marathon medal ever. I put that in the casket with my grandmother and it is in the earth in Hydetown, PA.
But I love that I have these little remembrances. I love that I didn’t just toss those shoes in the bin when I was done with them. Looking at these shoes and shirt on the shelf reminds me that I have unfinished business. I always want to be striving for just a few less seconds on the course. I always hope I can run a little further some day. I always hope I can inspire just another person with my actions or my words.
Twenty years down. Hopefully another 50 to go.
