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Who won?

That was my question to a number of people after I crossed the finish line last year at Boston. The responses ranged from blank stares to “I think the guy who’s won it a bunch of times!”.

None of the answers were correct, and I didn’t find out who really won until I got home that afternoon.

***

6 months later I watched the most exciting finish to a marathon I have every seen. Granted it was on the small screen on my computer, but Sammy Wanjiru’s finish at the Chicago Marathon last year was absolutely breathtaking!

I was exhausted by the end.

***

My father and I were chatting about marathons the other night. Like me, he can pop on marathon coverage on the TV and enjoy it from beginning to end. For a lot of people, this sounds like torture – you’re just sitting there watching people run! But if you have ever run a race (my pop actually held the county record in the 880 yard dash back in the day), whether in High School, College or as an adult, you get it. It doesn’t matter if you were competitive enough to win, as long as you were competitive enough to want to beat the guy who was running next to you.

There is a thrill to watching people compete in this second oldest of competitions – I imagine that the oldest competition is the fist fight. Whether it is watching Sammy Wanjiru turn it on after being broken three times or reading about my good friend Mike’s battle it out with the Cat in the Hat, competition is compelling. I get to experience the thrill without putting in the effort, and that can be appealing.

And so, with a competitive field toeing the line in Hopkinton this year, with Ryan Hall once again attempting to bring home a win by an American at Boston, there is part of me that wishes I could be a spectator again.

My barber, who ran a 2:28 Boston back in the day, said to me yesterday that he won’t even go to the marathon, preferring to watch it on TV so he can watch every moment.

So, do I really want to be a spectator instead of a participant in this year’s Boston Marathon? No. Frakkin’. Way.

Boston IS the goal.

Boston IS the race.

Boston IS Mecca.

There is a part of me that wants to see those moments, to watch the elites, to encourage each and every runner, but there is no place that I’d rather be on April 18th than sharing the road with my fellow 27,000 marathoners.

Now, to find out who really won last year, click —>HERE<—.

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Why do you run?

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High


Officer Thorny: Do you know how fast you were going back there?
College Boy 1: Umm…65?
Officer Thorny: …63.
College Boy 1: But…isn’t the speed limit 65?
Officer Thorny: Yes, it is.
[Pause]
College Boy 3: I’m freakin’ out, man!
Officer Rabbit: Yes, you are freaking out…man.

Opening scene of Super Troopers (2001)

Do you want to get high, so high

-Cypress Hill


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Last March I ate a half marathon for lunch. At least, that’s the way I put it on my various social networks’ statuses. Obviously one cannot literally eat a half marathon, but I just as well could have said that I had smoked a half marathon because despite fighting a raging head cold, I spent the rest of that day and a better part of the following day on a high that I thought one could only achieve through, er, pharmaceuticals or love. I felt great. I don’t mean “walking around with a general sense satisfaction” great, no, I’m talking, Tony the Tiger, I…felt…GRRRRRREAT!  All of this due to a midday run that just happened to turn itself into a half-marathon.

By no means was it the farthest of runs; I had just done a slow rolling 18 miler with my buddy Mike a week and half before. Nor was it the fastest of runs either; I had flown through an 8 miler just two days earlier at a 7 minute per mile clip. It just happened to be one of those runs that hit that sweet spot (~7:45 pace for me at the time) – one that anybody who has been running for a certain amount of time eventually hits and then, like a love-sick teenager or a junkie, spends the rest of their time trying to re-create.

Personally, I love the runner’s high. You don’t get your heart-broken like the teenager nor do you end up ravaging your body like the junkie (quite the opposite really). Very few things feel better too – very few!

Just like any other potentially addictive thing though, you have to be careful with the runner’s high. I was still feeling great mentally the following night, but I could feel myself coming down. I wanted to pump up the endorphins again despite the fact that my head cold was now worse and had spread to my chest. The wife looked at me like I was crazy when I put on the shorts and began to head downstairs to run for an hour or two. I could hardly breathe and my eyes and nose were running like Niagara Falls. I just wanted a fix. I was also convinced that a run would cure my ailments. As I walked downstairs however, I had a moment of clarity and realized that rest was probably what my body needed more than anything else. That’s not to say I didn’t take one more step down the stairs before I finally turned around and crawled into bed.

Even as I drifted off to sleep, I could still feel my feet nudging me to get up.

I’ve spent most of my life not understanding why gamblers continue to gamble or why drug addicts continue to destroy themselves. I have a mildly addictive personality, but when something looks like it might permanently hurt me or those around me, I tend to know when and how to say no. But that night on the stairs, I caught a glimpse, just a glimpse, of what happens with true addicts. I just wanted to feel the way I had felt the day before and running was the delivery system. Had I felt just a touch better, I may have continued down the stairs, to my detriment.

***

After my run that day, all of the worries that had been weighing me down simply did not seem so weighty anymore. Yes, they were still there, but I felt better equipped to tackle them. And to a degree, that’s the point isn’t it? Running can better equip you to deal with your daily crises.  Imagine if we could get everyone to experience the runner’s high just once.  Just imagine.

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Why do you run?

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