Today I have my very first guest-blogger. She is none other than my lovely wife, Jess. I hesitate to let you read further only because she is a much better writer than I am.
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[tweetmeme source=”luau” only_single=false http://www.URL.com]
All right, so you can pick your jaws up off the floor now. Seriously, it’s impolite to stare.
I know how implausible it is to find me here. Me – of “I only run when being chased” fame. Me – who once announced to the world that I was going to run a half-marathon, got three weeks into Dante’s third ring of Hell training, decided for the millionth time that I DESPISED running, then spent the next six months trying to hide from anyone that had been within earshot when I’d made the declaration. Me – who would sooner chew glass than run, no less spend my time reading a blog about running (Sorry, honey, you know I love you, right?).
And yet, here I am. And I have a story to tell. And it’s about running. I know, what are the odds?
Here goes.
In another lifetime, when I was thinner and taller er, um, younger and richer oh, Hell, let’s just go with just out of college, I lived in Manhattan. Long before Luau and I met, and a good many years before I would become a running widow, I would periodically head over to the finish line of the New York City Marathon. Friends and I would go to share in the revelry of the day. We’d whoop it up and cheer in the runners as they ran along Central Park South. We made it our personal mission to help push them over the last hump as they neared the finish line in the park.
I loved being there and I always found that the energy and inspiration lingered long after I’d walked away.
One year, after cheering in God knows how many runners, I headed over to the West Side for dinner with a friend. We tucked into a window seat at a favorite restaurant and ordered a bottle of wine. We talked about everything under the sun. We chatted and laughed and watched the people go by. We ordered slowly and ate even more slowly. Why not? We were living in the days of nowhere to be. It was long after nine o’clock when we finally paid the check.
I headed out into the night, amazed at how dark it was. I walked across town, making my through the park and back down to Central Park South. I was changed by what I saw along the way.
A lone runner was making his way along the same path that had been lined with bodies hours earlier. Where there had been rows of fans five and six deep. there was now nothing but a few stray barricades still waiting to be collected. There was no fanfare now – no one screaming or urging him on – no one there waiting to hand him a banana or a mylar blanket. There was no one to put a medal around his neck, offer him a massage or even give him a handshake. There was nothing at all but him and the place where the finish line had been. It was nearly ten o’clock at night.
I stood in the dark watching him with tears streaming down my face.
One at a time, he pulled his forearm crutches around his body. At awkward angles, they kept time with his feet until he finally stopped to raise them above his head.
I felt like a voyeur. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t move. I just stood back in awe of the human will.
Finishing that race was for no one but him.
Running is intensely personal. Whether you’re obsessed with running a qualifying time for a marathon (ahem), looking to beat a personal record (ahem again), or just hoping to make it in before the course closes, unless you’re an elite runner, it’s for no one but you. Running for a cause or running against the clock; running two miles or running twenty six miles, if you’re really going to do it, it’s got to be for YOU.
If you’re running New York this weekend, I wish you luck and I wish you strength.
And while you’re there, if you start to falter, keep your feet moving toward the park. Because there, you might just find the spirit of the man who finished HIS race long after the spectators had gone home.
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Jess can be found at Diary of a Mom where she writes about our life, our beautiful daughters – nine and-a-half year-old Katie and seven and-a-half year-old, Brooke, and our up and down journey with autism.
She also runs the Diary of a Mom Facebook page, a warm and supportive community of parents, friends, adults on the autism spectrum and some random people in her life who cared enough to hit ‘Like’ and probably now wonder what they got themselves into.
Run Luau Run 
Just brilliant! Thank you for sharing that story.
okay so ole leaky eyes loved this post. I have often said perseverance, perseverance, perseverance, and of all the peeps I know, you know why. I’m sure you have heard the old catch phrase about autism, ya know about it being a marathon not a sprint. Well just like in running, with autsim, somedays it’s euphoric and you experience a personal best, others not so much. In a couple of days you will run and you’ll be running for reasons that are personal, and reasons we have in common, and I will be thinking of you and praying that you get your PR……and if by chance you start to lose focus and need a pick me up, then remember MY catch phrase, “run like your hair is on fire”:) for all the Aidan’s and “Brooke”, good luck!
[…] CLICK HERE […]
Tears of inspiration as I sit on my couch. Thank you for this. Really…
Well, Luau, I commend you on your choice of guest blogger! And Jess, what a powerful story. I, too, spent a stint of time in Manhattan when I was in my mid 20’s. My memories take me back there far more often than my finances and life logistics allow me to take a plane physically there.
So many times I talk with people who say, “I want to get back to running, but …….” Posts like yours help people get off their “butts” and past their “buts.”
Blessings to all of you and especially to anyone in your family who (ahem) may be obsessed with breaking any specific goal (3:15 comes to mind).
I’ll be with you in spirit on Sunday!!
Thanks Paula! I love the line “help people get off their “butts” and past their “buts.””
Wonderful guest post Jess! Good luck to all the marathoners this weekend!
Inspirational! Thank you.
Love
Mom,
Well said. I’m so glad you had the experience of watching that last lone runner come in. Moments like that last – and make – a lifetime.
Great piece!
As for the question…why do you run? I started running in February 2010. I ran track in junior high (badly), I ran for basketball conditioning (high school & college), I chased a soccer ball with my daughter and her team for nearly 10 years. Then I stopped. I no longer wanted to compete.
Then the diagnosis came. The challenges came. Suddenly, I had competition from everything outside (or was it inside) of me.
And now I run. I don’t run long distance, just a few miles at a time. I’m getting pretty good at a few miles. I enjoy running. I’ve started to call it my daily “breeze out”.
I started spinning classes and cycling on the weekends. I’m getting good at that too.
An yes, there are still challenges. My competition is there stalking me. But I’m stronger now and I don’t growl as much anymore. Running (and cycling) help me keep my head on the level.
Peace out!
Michelle
I love this post – I used to occasionally run (long before my boys were born), and this made me remember why I did it. Now I go fitness walking, but still for the same reason – my peace of mind.
Absolutely beautiful piece…your words always affect me!
Regards………..
Wow, that story of that lone runner will stick with me a long time. Thank you!
I’ve been freaking out all day, printing out stuff and reading everything I can about this marathon and this just put it in perspective. Now I have tears in my eyes. Great great read!!! Thanks Jess!
Boy can I relate – it took me 7 hours and 49 minutes to finish the Boston Marathon. I was blessed with an early start so there was someone there to put a medal around my neck but the clock had stopped a few minutes before we crossed so we weren’t entered into the ‘official finishers’ book. But it doesn’t matter — it is intensely personal and the feeling of going beyond limitations and going beyond what your told is impossible is the greatest joy in the world.
Thank you for a great guest blog and Luau – this blog is going to be published somewhere, some day. It is a phenomenal forum and bless you for creating this wonderful space.
Wonderful — thank you, guest blogger!
thanks for making me cry….for the umpteenth time….just beautiful
Dammit! Why does she always make me cry!?!?! Grrr…
Yeah, she seems to have that effect.
goosebumps. what a wonderful post!
luau, i LOVE your guest blogger!
me too!
Well Jess, you just ruined my night. My mascara is running down my face and I am supposed to be heading out the door. Plus, I am jealous as hell of your writing. Well done. Thanks for sharing this with all of us.
Oh my god. I am not an emotional person (rarely do I shed tears), but I almost broke down at this post. Thank you so much for sharing this Jess, seriously amazing story.
thanks for sharing this beautiful moment with us. For someone who doesn’t run, you certainly get it 🙂
I’m printing this blog post and putting it on my office door!
fantastic story and storyteller. How did all this writing talent end up in one family? 🙂
Good luck in the marathon! I’ll be checking your tweets to see how you did!!
I was wondering about hte very same thing. How is is possible that such voices could possibly end up in the same family? ❤ the piece, the guest blogger, and your determined spirits, both of you! Good luck this weekend!
Oh, I wasn’t expecting that. My eyes are leaking.
Oops, I’m leaking, too!