Training for a marathon
By Sandra Post | 11th June 2008
Training began in earnest January 1st. While we are not an inherently athletic family, my children participated in sports in school including basketball, volleyball, soccer, and baseball. Collectively they achieved a respectable level of success and then some. Obviously I’m not totally impartial. Moms never are.
As adults they aren’t dashing to the gym or the golf course, but they’re not couch potatoes either. We recognize the value of moving in some form.
About the training. Our youngest, Tara, called one evening, saying she was training for a half marathon. I was amazed. Not because I doubted she could do it, but because she’s never expressed interest in running. But a conversation with a friend sparked the challenge and plans began. Her brother, Michael, lives in Nashville so she decided to run in their Country Music Marathon the last weekend in April. Since Michael had already run both a half marathon and a full, he was the unofficial trainer and coach. I auditioned for the part of cheerleader.
To me, four months is incredibly little time to prepare for such an undertaking but that’s because I’d need a lifetime. Through snow and lack of daylight and bleak Midwest weather, she trained. Initially most was on the treadmill, but she knew eventually she’d need to run outside.
Meanwhile her brother signed up for the full marathon, and later her husband, Jeff, and sister-in-law, Jill decided to join her. I was still in cheerleader mode. She’d call to vent or to wonder out loud whatever possessed her to think of doing such a “stupid” thing. And I’d express my admiration for her efforts and secretly wonder about the mystery of genetics. Neither she nor her siblings inherited from me a gene for anything that required 13.1 miles of one foot in front of the other.
Fast forward to slightly improved weather, although in Nashville’s more moderate climate, Michael was making good progress on his training. But running for multiple hours requires discipline, dedication, optimism, and above all, healthy feet and legs. Knees or hips sometimes don’t cooperate. Closer to the actual date, Michael’s knee took a wrong turn. He reduced his running, and eventually decided to forgo the full marathon and join the other three for the half.
Race day was wet. At 5:00 a.m., it was raining hard. God and I were having a conversation about the need for the rain to cease. It did eventually. By race day the cheerleading entourage had increased in number and we lined the street to catch a glimpse of our favorite four. Sounds easy to just keep watching, but the runners numbered in the multiple thousands and the logistics of maintaining our spot and cheering out loud and watching for familiar faces was difficult. After seeing our runners in partial to full view, we drove to the finish line to welcome them across.
Because of more logistics, the self-appointed cheerleaders weren’t all together for the finale. But some of us watched Tara and Michael cross the finish line. The Marathon folks do an amazing job to make the finish memorable. Applause, smiles, tears, and proud families and friends cheer the runners across. The moment is awesome with all its hoopla and sincere regard for the winners, every one of them who crossed the line.