Marathon Emotions

Running 26.2 miles is, on a whole, an emotional experience. It started half an hour before the race as I looked out across Memorial Stadium, and my mind drifted forward to the finish.

There were many more moments; since I tend toward the emotional in situations like this, when people lay it all out, give it their all, while others cheer for these, their temporary heroes.

During a long run, you have to be careful. The energy burst from a wave of emotion can drive you up and over the steepest hill, but it will also bury you if you let it. Trust me on this: I lived it during my 21 mile prep run two months ago.

The tallest roller-coaster high came around mile 17. I was fully in the long distance fragile haze of ups and downs, and had recently (a mile and a half prior) seen a friend while listening to “Flying High Now.”

Anyway, it was a period with a moderate number of spectators, and a mom had her four(ish) young kids lined up, watching the race. They were very interested; she coached them all to hold our their hands for high-fives. Excited, I angled over, smiled and delivered high-fives. I was careful to hit all their hands: it wouldn’t do to miss one, not at all.

A moment after, the “Stone Cold” Steve Austin kicked in; another moment later, I had tears flowing down my face, and I angled to the middle of the road, away from other spectators. It was too intense for me, I couldn’t be anyone else’s hero that day.

I don’t think I can properly express how honored I was to have four little fans who cared enough to get high-fives. I wonder if this is something they’ll talk about, or if they’ll even remember. Somehow, I don’t think that matters.