Seeing the best in humanity, for 26.2 miles
My daughter recently ran the Chicago Marathon. It seems this time of year, marathon races are happening all over the country. Millions of runners prepare for their big event with pre-race pasta dinners and packets of energy gels lining their spandex pockets. Months of training leads them to this point where running 26.2 miles in one stretch becomes a possibility. There’s excitement and a bit of trepidation leading up to the race, but the rise of personal grit to accomplish such a feat is inspiring.
We had quite the contingent in Chicago that rainy day in support of our Kate. Our job was to crazily cheer not only for her, but for all runners who were in the quest for victory amidst a very personal goal.
Many ran for a particular reason. Some ran for loved ones lost, others to raise awareness for a cause they believed in. There were even those who trekked more than 26 miles pushing a wheelchair with a loved one unable to run for him- or herself. That partnership was nothing short of remarkable. And then there were those in the wheelchair division. Witnessing the arm strength as they relentlessly rotated the wheels of their chair with gloved hands left us in awe and triggered the loudest cheers.
When we saw the runners at mile 1, sweat barely glistened on their skin. Their pace was confident, and their faces reflected determination almost without expression. They were on a mission with a long road ahead. By mile 3, their faces reflected joy. You could tell they had settled into the experience of the grand occasion. Bands played and throngs of people lined the streets cheering everyone who passed them.
We caught up with Kate again at mile 13 and mile 17. I noticed the grimaces of the runners tighten with time. Some were limping. Some had expressions of pain as the limitations of their bodies competed with the determination of their minds. You could almost see the internal dialogue willing their legs, stifling their cramps and offering reminders that they had more to give. The sideline crowd cheered with heightened encouragement. This was anything but easy.
As we waited near the finish line, the journey for so many was almost complete. The runners’ triumph and renewed strength were palpable. Their endurance paid off. Spectators three and four rows deep celebrated the accomplishment of all runners. The whole day was a reminder of the power of the individual human spirit and how the support of community can lift us when we threaten to falter. All along the route, we were privy to the best of humanity.
There were many who could barely walk after their 26.2-mile run, but everyone who wore the medal of accomplishment smiled. They had done it. The metaphors for life surrounded us the entire day. “You can do it,” is what we teach our young children. But for marathoners who come in all shapes and sizes, they first had to believe “I can do it,” which made the rest of us believe in ourselves as well.
I’ve decided being a marathon spectator is one of my favorite pastimes. Even under cloudy skies and the mist of falling rain, the brilliance of the human spirit blanketed the entire city of Chicago that day. As far as my daughter goes? I suggested a marathon in Hawaii next time.