On Sunday, I ran my 16th Marine Corps Marathon. Good Lord. Why? I have neither running talent nor youth working in my favor. In fact, I defy the medical establishment to find a single fast twitch fiber in my leg muscles. And yet, with the exception of 2012, I have run the Marine Corps Marathon every October since 1998. Some people think I’m crazy and a glutton for punishment. Yes, it is punishing, and with every passing year, it gets harder to do. But I keep doing it. The reason is because I can’t think of a single con that isn’t a pro, as well. Here are some of them.
Jiffy Johns
I would go to great lengths to avoid using a porta-john and on marathon morning, there’s something greatly disturbing about seeing rows of porta-johns lined up the length of a football field. When I consider the likelihood that tens of thousands of runners use those “facilities” before the start of the race, it gives me new respect for those hearty individuals who work in the Jiffy John business.
But on Sunday, at mile 13, Jiffy John was my best friend and saved me from an unexpected situation that could have forced me onto the straggler bus and potentially ruined the marathon experience for innocent bystanders. The 15 minutes that pit stop added to my finish time was definitely worth it. Thank you, Jiffy John.
Pain
Running a marathon hurts. A lot. When my husband removed his shoe after the marathon, he had a blood blister so large it looked like he suddenly grew a new purple, sixth toe. I have run marathons where at about mile 20, I started to wonder if I had stepped in a puddle because my foot felt squishy. It was only when I reached the finish that I realized my foot was so bloody, it changed the color of my shoe from white to red.
I learned an important lesson during the first marathon I ever ran, when I saw a girl run the whole race on crutches. With my two able legs, I had passed her early in the race, but was humbled to see her hours later when she crossed the finish line. I still remember the expression of agony and determination on her face as she forced herself one step at a time to cross the finish.
Last year, I watched two soldiers, who were pushing a wheelchair, stop right before the finish line to lift their comrade, a paralyzed soldier, out of the wheelchair and carry him so that his own two feet crossed the finish line.
When I witness such acts of heartrending courage, I realize that my own pain is irrelevant.
Marathon runners are gross, but giving
Some runners think nothing of honking a loogie, launching a snot rocket, burping, or farting with the perfect freedom of a four year old. It also amazes me how many people already smell bad at the beginning of the race. How can someone wake up on marathon morning and “forget” to put on deodorant knowing they are going to sweat hard for many hours?
I can’t even exclude women. Nearing the finish line on Sunday, I heard a lady burp. Loudly. Thinking the sweet, dainty little perpetrator must have been embarrassed, I waited for her to excuse herself. Instead, she burped again. Louder and prouder.
Marathon runners may be gross, but they are fierce, independent and bring out some of the best human qualities. Thousands of people run a marathon to raise money for charity. Thousands run in memory of a loved one who died from illness or war. Thousands run to honor those who can’t run with their own feet. A marathon is one of the most massive and powerful displays of public love and selfless compassion I’ve ever witnessed.
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I wore a Fitbit bracelet for the first time this year, which monitors every step and mile you achieve every day. After the race, I was happy to get an email from Fitbit recognizing my marathon effort by giving me a 55,000 step award. However, when I read that I was “close” to the next award level, I thought “What the heck?! Like 55,000 steps isn’t enough?”
Maybe not. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about running so many marathons, it is that there is no limit to the strength, love and giving spirit of humanity.
You don’t have to run 26.2 miles to know that. But run or watch the Marine Corps Marathon, and you will never forget it.
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Ann K. Howley is the award-winning author of Confessions of a Do-Gooder Gone Bad.
Please visit her website at http://annkhowley.com/#about-ann