May 21, 2010 @ 11:12 am
The Run of It All
Lincoln/ National Guard Marathon, Lincoln, NE (28)
So I wouldn’t qualify my working today as helping with a charitable organization, but I definitely was serving a group of people I believe to be promoting a tremendous cause, one that quite honestly has fallen by the wayside for so many. Marathons, in general, create a sense of health and wellness. In recent years, only one state throughout the U.S. has kept obesity rates below 20%. Children have greatly been affected by this phenomenon with obesity numbers reaching roughly 20% for kids 6-11 years old, and just over 18% for kids 12-19 years old. These numbers are absolutely astonishing to me. While fast food restaurants, video games and television receive tremendous criticism for their involvement in the creation of these statistics, ultimately, the decision to stay fit and keep our children healthy is up to us. So, I thought working with a marathon event would be a great way for me to express my interest in personal health and our general well being all around.
Waking up when it’s still night outdoors is quite difficult for a girl like me. With the race beginning at 7 a.m., along with my having to stay over an hour away from the event location due to everyone clearly booking their rooms during holiday season 2008 (just kidding), I’d awoken well before dawn. My staggered walk from hotel to car probably did nothing for the front desk attendance’s confidence in my driving skills. Nevertheless, I was able to at least buckle my seat belt, and there I was, on my way.
Though not completely ecstatic about my travel time, it did however, allow me to see the sun face yet again another day. The cloudless sky welcomed me as I drove to Nebraska’s capital, where it was quite clear that I wasn’t the only one who’d woken to dark skies. Strutting through stop lights, people of all shapes and sizes were donned in wind jackets, short shorts, tall socks and “the best of the best” tennis shoes. Cups of coffee and water bottles filled their hands, while family members followed as they approached the starting point. Photos with friends were taken, and wishes for great luck were whispered. Finally, with the pull of a trigger, 8,000 competitors made the first step to a dream which later would become a fond memory. As I watched in the distance, bodies slowly embarked on their endeavor, as my task was just beginning.
Walking on the field of Memorial Stadium, I felt past successes radiate from below. I wondered how many touchdowns had been made, how many coaches had been escorted from the grounds, and how many fans had cheered from excitement as quarterbacks raised their arm to pass that infamous pass. The giant timer was progressing as we lined tables covered in medals and placed roses in water. And then… we all just waited. Bleachers began filling with fans as runners began nearing their end.
As feet pounded against the pavement below, our necks stretched from side to side, attempting to see the first to cross the finish line only feet away. Minutes later, just over an hour after the gunshot was fired (and running as though he had just missed his bus), a man’s face appeared not too far from the crowd waiting near the finish. As he crossed the line, completing the half-marathon, he was greeted with roars of congratulations. Barely phased by his great feat, he posed for photos and waited as others trailed behind.
At first, runners trickled in minute by minute, but later, we watched the steady motion of the sea of people as they made their final steps to victory. With heavy breaths and wet faces, tears of joy streamed down as wives fell into the arms of husbands, and smiles of accomplishment stretched from ear to ear as sons found dads in the stands. As I placed medal after medal around person after person, I can’t explain the admiration you feel for these people. It seems as though you’re happiest because they’ve made the possibility of achieving such a dream a reality, for themselves, and for you.
This continued for several hours, and slowly but surely each made their way toward the end. With only the size of a medal differentiating the two, those who’d completed the half-marathon as well as those who’d attempted the full-marathon pounded their final steps.
As I looked back right before I was leaving, bottles of Gatorade overflowed the trashcans, and friends held friends as they stumbled from their long journeys. The sun was shining even more brightly than before, and regardless of the clocked times, aching muscles, or the nagging feeling of exhaustion, for a short while, a sense of greatness hovered above us all.
Running is an absolutely beautiful way to learn more about ourselves. Left with only our inner thoughts we explore the world around us, and relying on only our natural abilities, legs move swiftly, each step with a purpose, a final destination…be it a finish line or an achievement only we can know. No balls, no bats and no goals other than those we’ve placed on ourselves. To run is to know the power of freedom, and a road never ending.
