Some get it
Ready ready ready ready ... ready to run -- Dixie Chicks, Ready to Run
There's a big reason why I (rslight) sometimes like to wear a race shirt in public (aside from occasionally getting behind on laundry). I enjoy wearing a medal the day after a marathon or half in the city I ran it in.
The great majority of the public couldn't care less about running. However, periodically you'll pass another runner, and there's a wonderful quick moment when you see that spark of recognition on his or her face. They get it. They understand the effort. They've felt the passion.
Take Sunday, for example. I was on the fifth mile of my 14-mile run at Springfield's Nathanael Greene Park when I passed a man and woman meandering along a trail. The man looked up and excitedly asked, "When's the next race?"
I was extremely flattered. He had identified me as a runner! And not only that. A runner with a purpose!
It was so unlike those middle school years when my peers told me I should stay in the classroom because I "totally sucked" on the track.
I proudly told him I was training for the Little Rock Marathon. It turned out this guy has done, like, 28 marathons. As if he couldn't help himself, he went about a mile with me, answering some questions I had about various races. He insisted that Disney Marathon is the best.
He mentioned he ran Boston Marathon twice. I told him I intend to qualify for Boston. (Eventually.) He told me I should find a flat course for a qualification attempt. He said it a bit confidentially, as if that is a big secret.
While reminding me about the apparently awesome size of the Little Rock medal, he suddenly tensed up. "Wait," he said. "Where did my wife go?"
There's a big reason why I (rslight) sometimes like to wear a race shirt in public (aside from occasionally getting behind on laundry). I enjoy wearing a medal the day after a marathon or half in the city I ran it in.
The great majority of the public couldn't care less about running. However, periodically you'll pass another runner, and there's a wonderful quick moment when you see that spark of recognition on his or her face. They get it. They understand the effort. They've felt the passion.
Take Sunday, for example. I was on the fifth mile of my 14-mile run at Springfield's Nathanael Greene Park when I passed a man and woman meandering along a trail. The man looked up and excitedly asked, "When's the next race?"
I was extremely flattered. He had identified me as a runner! And not only that. A runner with a purpose!
It was so unlike those middle school years when my peers told me I should stay in the classroom because I "totally sucked" on the track.
I proudly told him I was training for the Little Rock Marathon. It turned out this guy has done, like, 28 marathons. As if he couldn't help himself, he went about a mile with me, answering some questions I had about various races. He insisted that Disney Marathon is the best.
He mentioned he ran Boston Marathon twice. I told him I intend to qualify for Boston. (Eventually.) He told me I should find a flat course for a qualification attempt. He said it a bit confidentially, as if that is a big secret.
While reminding me about the apparently awesome size of the Little Rock medal, he suddenly tensed up. "Wait," he said. "Where did my wife go?"
posted by rslight at 9:18 am
2 Comments:
I want to qualify for Boston.
But I'm sure it's painfully obvious that I've got to do things a bit differently.
When I qualify for Boston, hopefully in 2009, but possibly in 2010, it will be on a hilly course. Perhaps in the high desert. Perhaps in Memphis.
I'd like to, too. But I'm not going to in March.
I am, however, going to run a marathon in March.
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