Marathons, March 2, 2019
I used to run Marathons in Seattle when I was young. I know I’m
using the pronoun “I” again way too much, but what else do I have
to take about?
I only know my life. You know yours.
Marathons are horrible. 26 miles; 42 kilometers and in Seattle the
marathon was held on Thanksgiving Day weekend in November for
jollies. It was always cold and raining.
The photo is of me rounding the south side of Seward Park on Lake
Washington in the cold rain of November. We ran the same loop
twice back then along the western side of Lake Washington.
I ran the Seattle Marathon three times. The last time was in my early
thirties (1983) and I was sick with the flu or I’d have broken the
three hour time for my run.
It rained every time for the Seattle Marathon and it was cold. Cruel
in my opinion to run the Seattle Marathon at that time of year, but
there it was.
Running a marathon is painful. At about 13 miles one wants to just
give up and go home. Why I did this back then is beyond me.
I ran 8 miles a day to train for the events. It kept me healthy and in
shape at the time, but now my ankles are shot and my feet are not
happy. My legs look like something out of a Play-Dough Factory.
We do what we do. As Gandhi once said, “It really doesn’t matter
what you do with your life, but it is critical that you do it.”
It’s a marathon of life, eh?