Do you know how long it takes for toenails to grow back? Read on oh faithful reader.
Taking the hotel shuttle to the Metro in late October, Hannah and I are ready to immerse ourselves in the buzz that is Washington, DC. A swiped credit card gets us anywhere in the city in minutes on a clean and punctual subway. Guided by our daughter Molly, who has lived in the area for five years, we love the idea of us, the country mice, coming to the big city. As I sit on the Metro, I scan the walls and learn the rules for riding the subway. Did you know that on the Metro it is unlawful to smoke, eat, drink, spit, litter or carry a radio that can be heard by others or carry any animals? Ever obedient, I abide by their rules.
Stepping out of the Metro near the National Mall (the wide lawn that stretches from the US Capitol to the Washington Monument and then on by the Reflecting Pool to the Lincoln Memorial), we immediately face a mass of marathon runners.
Still in good spirits two hours after their near freezing 8A start, they beam as if they are a part of twenty-six point two mile block party. If you are not a runner, let me tell you there’s nothing like the energy of running with others. Hannah and I ran our first 10K in Phoenix, AZ with 4000 others. From our position back in the pack, we watched the bobbing heads of the runners ahead of us as if we were all moving on swells in the middle of the ocean.
What’s not to love about the Marine Corps Marathon! You don’t need a qualifying time to enter as you do for the Boston Marathon. The 35,000 places in the race are filled within an hour of the opening of registration. There are no prizes for winners; it’s all about the finishing. As much as running 26.2 miles can be a celebration, this marathon brings out the joy in the participants.
Ever notice that marathoning is a white person’s sport, except for the elite Kenyans and Ethiopians? The few American-Africans and few American-Orientals in the race stand out. (Thank you Denny McLoughlin for influencing my thinking on that designation. Citizens of this country are Americans first. Using “American” first focuses on our commonality.) Of course, as one time American-European marathon runners, our daughter Molly and I, fit the dominant demographic.
In 2007, our daughter Molly (in purple) ran in the premier marathon in this country, the Boston Marathon. On a cold nasty day, she ran into a steady 15 mph headwind for four hours! A cool thing she did was have her name on the front of her shirt so people could call out “Molly” to encourage her along the way. After the race she had two black toenails - one on each foot - second toe in from the big toe - to this day, the toenail is not the same. Below her brother Will carries Molly up the stairs after her four hours of non-stop running.
Why did she run 26.2 miles? To raise $6K for Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and to accomplish this challenge. She certainly has something commendable to add to her resume: Boston Marathon finisher.
Why did she run 26.2 miles? To raise $6K for Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and to accomplish this challenge. She certainly has something commendable to add to her resume: Boston Marathon finisher.
In December of 1981, I ran my one and only marathon, the Fiesta Bowl Marathon in Arizona. Why? Not as laudable as Molly; I just thought it would be cool to say I did it. It’s like that it’s cool that I can say I juggle. Going from Paradise Valley to Scottsdale, I was ever so slightly running downhill, which caused my toes to be pushed into the front of my running shoes, which was the reason I lost the two toenails. The answer to my lead question: It took nine months for them to grow back. Cruising through the first 17 miles, I struggled for the final nine point two. Surviving the run is the most accurate word to describe my efforts. My legs hurt so bad that a mere sheet on top of them in bed was painful for days. Walking downstairs was a halting, hobbling, and grimacing affair for a week. Even so, I now am a full-fledged member of the I’ve-run-a-marathon club; how cool is that!
After 30 years of running, five years ago Hannah and I found our knees were creaking each morning as we got out of bed. We gave up running that day for hiking, biking, and walking. But the running bug bit us after seeing The Tillman Story about Army Ranger and fellow Arizona State (the Harvard of the West) grad Pat Tillman who gave up a $3 million contract with the professional football Arizona Cardinals to join the Army. He was killed by friendly fire and the details were covered up by the Bush Administration. His mother Mary Tillman fought for years to get the truth out. The Pat Tillman Foundation organizes a race called Pat’s Run to raise money to invest in military veterans and their spouses through educational scholarships; building a diverse community of leaders committed to service to others. Hannah and I will be rocking in Pat's run this April in Tempe, Arizona, where we lived for ten years.
It’s just 4.2 miles but it’s our 2012 marathon.
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