The Marine Corps Marathon is tremendously unique in that it does not offer any cash prizes, therefore it is titled "The People's Marathon". And what could be more fitting than running a marathon not in the quest for prize money (not that it is an attainable goal for most) but instead, running for the sheer act of running. The whole idea rings with symbolically with the reason our troops do what they do. They fight and protect because they are drawn to it and see it as a duty.
Running in the marathon is not just about personal selfish accomplishments, as I found out. It is also about the people you see and how you become one more part of the overall experience.
I witnessed men running with full post and flags (Marine, US, and Support Our Troops). The pride when you see that, no matter your political position, swells. I realized, if they can run with those flags for 26.2, then so can I.
I ran next to a man who was pushing his disabled 5 year-old son in his wheelchair. A truly selfless and incredibly touching act. I realized if that father can pour so much heart into running AND pushing, then I can surely manage to run 26.2.
I saw countless hand-bike competitors, many of them part of teams comprised of double amputee soldiers. I cheered them on with other runners as they tortured their arms going up steep inclines. Sometimes they were going the pace of a crawling toddler, but they kept going, which is all that matters. And I realized if they can dedicate themselves to our county, loss parts of their body, go through intense rehab, and come back to compete in a marathon, then I can manage it too.
I also witnessed amputees, who were fortunate enough to be able to function with lower prosthetics, chugging along as if to say, "what? I don't have lower legs? No big deal." And I realized if they could muster the courage to go through the pain, then so could I.
I watched as Marines in full camo, boots, and rucksacks, lumbered along the trail. Suddenly the pounding MY feet were taking in my comfortable, ventilated Brooks running shoes didn't seem so bad compared to what they were feeling in the military issue combat boots.
I saw some incredible things during the marathon, before, and after. But the most amazing thing is that each person, whether they interact with each other physically, is emotionally and mentally drawing off of each other to push themselves further down the course.
Was it tempting to quit when, at mile 17, a pain shot through my knee? Yea, a little. Was it tempting to quit when that pain stayed with me for every stride after that? I guess it crossed my mind. Was it tempting to quit running through Georgetown seeing "All You Can Drink Mimosas If You Quit Now" sign? Well, no, but it did seem delicious. But when it came down to it I just looked around and thought, "if everybody around me can keep going, then so can I". And I managed to keep going for 26.2 miles, through the most enduring and persistent pain. But the thing is, everybody is going through the same thing, so you know you're not alone.
I realized the funny thing about distance running, particularly during a marathon, is that the runner is in complete control, every second. You can quit whenever you want, mile 1, mile 25, whenever you want. You control every ounce of pain you are experiencing, but you keep running, causing more pain. It is the oscillation between pain and the desire to see it through to the finish. It is the ultimate mind over matter because it is truly amazing what your mind can accomplish and trick your body into doing.
So, while I feel like Ray Lewis just took my legs out from under me on an end-around, I can't help but to chuckle and hobble at the same time. It doesn't matter how much it hurts now, it wouldn't even matter if it hurt weeks from now because I tortured myself and disillusioned myself and managed to tell myself, through all the pain, that it wasn't a big deal, to stop being a pussy and just keep running.
Because if they can do it, so can I.
A huge thanks to everybody who helped me.
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