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| Running a Marathon |
I ran my last Boston Marathon in 1989, with a respectable time of three and a half hours. Twenty years later, I will be running Boston again. This time I am aiming for five hours, hopefully arriving at the finish line on foot and not in the back of an ambulance wrapped up like a baked potato with an IV drip in my arm.
As I train through the frequent and frustrating hills near my home, I remember someone once telling me that if you can run 16 miles without stopping, you can complete a marathon. The crowds will get you through the other 10 miles.
For me, this was especially true at the Boston Marathon. I always enjoyed seeing the families in Hopkinton and Ashland, sitting on their front lawns with deck chairs and grilled hot dogs. They always cheered as loudly for us back-of-the-pack runners as they did for the elite men and women miles ahead of us. I loved running past the Happy Swallow in Framingham, with guys yelling from the front door, fueled by beer, baseball, and the first sight of bare female legs in over eight months. Although I didn’t know their faces, I always counted on their anonymous barroom support.
Wellesley was unquestionably the best. I used to watch the runners ahead of me as we approached Wellesley College. The incredible swarm of screaming, supportive Wellesley students caused everyone to straighten up, suck in their guts, and increase their speed just a little bit. This point of the Boston Marathon always passed quickly as these wonderful, great-smelling strangers propelled us through the middle miles.
My girlfriend (now my wife) used to wait for me at the base of Heartbreak Hill, so I would count on seeing her and our dog Lucy before making the trek up the Newton Hills. Children call you by name and hand out orange slices at Mile 19 to help prevent the quadriceps from seizing up. At the top of Heartbreak Hill, the Boston College students picked up where the Wellesley girls left off, cheering and applauding with music blaring from every dorm window. Back then, it was mostly Aerosmith, and I am guessing it’s the same today.
Through Brookline and past Fenway Park, the Prudential Center eventually comes into view. Here the crowds were always the largest and the loudest. Rain or shine, two hours or four hours later, these beautiful strangers will be there, lending their encouragement in those final painful miles approaching the finish line.
I am running the Boston Marathon this year for the Samaritans team, in memory of my twin brother Paul, who took his own life eighteen months ago. In many ways, the work of the Samaritans is a good metaphor for the marathon experience. The Samaritans network is made up of completely anonymous strangers, there to provide help and support during the difficult times.
Anyone can call the Samaritans helpline 24 hours a day by dialing 1-877-870-HOPE. Teens can call 1-800-252-TEEN. Whatever the challenge or struggle, anyone who is suffering will find a caring, empathetic ear, eager to listen and understand, and willing to provide unconditional and non-judgmental support to those who are alone, depressed or contemplating suicide.
My brother Paul will be in my heart on April 20, but my deep appreciation goes to all my friends and family who contributed to my run, and to those perfect strangers who will be there to offer support through those tough 26 miles and 385 yards.
Thank you for reading this post ... www.firstgiving.com/petermarsh
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Posted by pgm on 2009-03-21 17:11:45 | Rating: | Views: 172
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