Thoughts on The Boston Marathon

I grew up watching, reading, and listening to news about the Boston Marathon; as a runner and a fan of the competitive part of the sport for nearly 35 years, I've always loved following the stories from races for both the top contenders and the back-of-the-packers.  As a current back-of-the-packer myself, I know that every runner has a story, and, especially for big events like marathons, every finish impacts each participant in many different ways.  

The marathon is the apex of the sport for lots of runners, the quintessential goal, the quest of the most dedicated amongst us.  And the Boston Marathon, or "The Boston" or just "Boston," as it is typically called in the athletic world, is the pinnacle of all marathons.  It's the world's oldest ongoing marathon, with this being its 117th year, and it's probably the world's most well-known road-racing event.  Boston is always run on Patriots' Day, the third Monday in April, which, unlike the majority of other marathons in the U.S., means that it's always held on a Monday.  Because of the many hills along the course and the tendency for the temperatures to soar into the 80-degree range during the event, the race is considered to be one of the more challenging marathons in our country.  The Boston Marathon is the only marathon in the U.S. that has a qualifying time requirement for entry, based on the gender and age of each runner, with the general rules stating that a runner must have completed a "qualifying marathon" within an 18 month period prior to Boston.  As a result of the strict qualifying requirements and the difficulty factor, Boston Marathon runners are generally revered by all other runners, or at least by those of us who have been involved in the sport for awhile. 

A masterpiece about Dad's first Boston by my sister, Jennifer

Growing up, I remember hearing my dad talking about Boston as if it were the Holy Grail of running.  Even before he had run it the first time in 1979 at the age of 35, I remember him telling my sisters and me about the course, which runs through eight different towns and finishes on Copley Square in Boston.  In the months leading up to his Boston debut, I remember him worrying aloud about Heartbreak Hill, the most well-known challenge in the race, even after he'd run up and down the levee alongside the Mississippi River literally hundreds of times as part of the 100+ miles per week he ran for months before the race.  I remember my grandfather, my dad's dad, coming to stay with my sisters and me for a few days while my parents went to Boston that April, and I remember my mom calling us after the race to tell us how Dad had done (his finish time was 2:46:04).  I remember standing in the kitchen of our house with my sisters, cheering through the phone line for my dad and then chanting his finish place over and over, so many times that the number was forever lodged in my brain.  In fact, one day, during the time when my dad was sick, we were talking about the many races he had run over the years, and he was surprised when I told him that I still remembered what place he finished in at his first Boston:  1,196th, which put him in the top 15% of finishers that year.

There are around half a million spectators and usually between 20,000 and 25,000 runners at every Boston Marathon.  The Centennial Boston Marathon, held in 1996, which was my dad's second time to run it, set a record for the most entrants, at around 38,000 runners.  

I remember Dad talking excitedly after he'd gotten back from the race the first time about going to the Bill Rogers Running Store and meeting Bill Rodgers, who had won the marathon for the third time that year, setting a course record in the process.  Dad commented that he especially admired the guy, "Boston Billy" as he was called, because of his modesty and his friendliness, which, ironically, were also two of Dad's strongest qualities.  The women's division was won that year by Joan Benoit, then 21 years old, who, with a time of 2:35, bettered the previously set record for women's finish time by 8 minutes. 

Joan, or "Joanie" as she was called, won Boston again in 1983, this time finishing in 2:22, breaking the women's world record by two minutes, and then she followed up by taking the gold medal in the Olympic marathon in L.A. in 1984, the year the women's marathon was established as an Olympic event.  She, incidentally, still holds the record for the American woman with the fastest finish in both the Olympic marathon and in the Chicago Marathon.  Yesterday, Joan ran Boston again to celebrate the 30th anniversary of her most recent Boston win, as did the men's winner from '83, Greg Meyer, who was in fact the last American to have won the race.  Joan, now age 55, was quoted as saying before the race that she planned to "go out fast," aiming to finish within 30 minutes of her winning time from 30 years ago, a goal that my dad would have absolutely loved hearing about - and one that she achieved with a finish time of 2:50.

To Joanie, from my dad and me: you're still a total badass!

Countless people - even those who have never even cared at all about the Boston Marathon before yesterday - watched the replays and read the recounts of the tragedy that unfolded after the bombings, the vast majority of people whom, I would venture to guess, realized that they could not even imagine the chaos and the terror than ensued on the race course and around the city, nor could they really comprehend the emotions  about the losses suffered by the runners and spectators of so many things: life, safety, trust, faith, and even reward for such dedication and effort on the part of the thousands of runners who trained extensively for the race over the course of the last six months or more.  

"To be a consistent winner means preparing not just one day, one month, or even one year - but for a lifetime." ~Bill Rodgers, 1979

"To be a consistent winner means preparing not just one day, one month,

or even one year - but for a lifetime." ~Bill Rodgers, 1979

My brother Lee has qualified for Boston twice and has run it once; he shares in the family's fascination with the marathon's history and with each year's competitive field.  No one in my family was at the Boston Marathon this year; however, on some level, we can imagine the turmoil experienced by those who were there yesterday because of tragic events that have affected us at other races in years past, which is a different story in its own right.  Like everyone else, my family feels so sad for everyone affected by the bombing; there is no understanding the evil that drives such madness.  The term Heartbreak Hill has a whole new meaning for all of the runners there yesterday and for those of us whose hearts go out to those injured and otherwise affected by the malevolence of those responsible.

In memory of Martin Richard 

What’s In A Name?

Mom and Dad "horsing around" on a camping trip

One of Dad’s quirks that was so endearing to anyone who spent much time around him was his “creativeness” when it came to identifying certain things by name.  He often got what he considered to be the details mixed up; this wasn’t a memory problem – it just wasn’t a priority for him to remember the exact name or pronunciation of certain things.  It was usually pretty easy to figure out what he was talking about if it was mentioned in context; it was like a guessing game other times, but either way it was always entertaining.

For example, Dad asked his granddaughters, “Have you heard of this Michael Boubble [he said it like bobble] guy?  What’s his name?  Michael Bluhbluh?”  They deciphered from the conversation, which was about music, that he meant Michael Buble.  They told him that most of Michael Buble’s fans were middle-aged women, but Dad said he didn’t care, he really liked the guy's music too. 

When the movie “Pirates of the Caribbean” was released, Dad said he wanted to take his grandchildren to see it, but he kept referring to it (even after they’d seen it) as “The Pilots of the Mediterranean.”  They knew what he meant, though; they were used to Gramps’s reinterpretation of things like that and thought it was hilarious.

Before Dad got sick, he read in the news that President Obama had eaten at Five Guys, a fast-food restaurant, in Washington D.C.  Dad thought it was great when his city got a Five Guys; it is actually located not far from the hospital where Dad was taken when he got sick.  As part of our campaign to get Dad to eat more when he was sick, we offered to get him food to-go from any restaurant he wanted, and he said, “I guess I could eat an Obama burger.”  Those of us who hadn’t read the article didn’t know what he was talking about, but luckily those who had caught on and he got the burger he wanted. 

It’s funny what specific things we miss about those who have gone on ahead, like Dad’s renaming which was such a great part of him.   He never had the chance to hear this duet sung by one of his old favorites and one of his new; he probably wouldn’t have remembered the name of it, but he definitely would have enjoyed the music.

This one’s for you, Dad!

Rippling

 

From what I can tell, it seems like there are three main things that scare people about dying:  physical pain in the present (“Will it hurt?”), emotional pain related to the future (“How will my loved ones and I go on without each other?”), and emotional distress/worrying about the past (“Will I be remembered?”). 

I’m not sure about the first two.  We like to believe that we can control most or all of the physical pain with medication and human touch, and most people think that dying brings a sense of relief to the person who goes on ahead so that he or she is not worrying and does not have a sense of time or of separation from those left behind.  Neither of these two things are really something we can know for sure until it is our time to go on ahead.  The last one, though, is something that I think we can consider as we go about our daily lives.

In Irvin Yalom’s book, “Staring at the Sun: Overcoming the Fear of Death,” the author talks about something he calls “Rippling,” the concept that each of us creates - often without our conscious intent or knowledge - concentric circles of influence that may affect others for years, or even generations.  Rippling refers to leaving behind something from your life experience, some trait, some piece of wisdom, guidance, virtue, or comfort that passes on to others, and then has the possibility of then being passed on by those to still others.

  

This is Paying It Forward in every sense of the words.  It’s an opportunity we all have.  It happens when an act of kindness has been witnessed or received or even just talked about.  It happens when words of wisdom or even just plain old words are heard, considered, and repeated.  These things can alter the thoughts, behaviors, words, and perspectives of others, which can then create a chain effect. 

Kindness is something that binds human beings together, from individuals and communities to generations and civilizations.  It puts the focus on what we as a society think is right and often on what we hope would be done for us should we be in a less fortunate position ourselves.  It benefits the kindness-giver, the kindness-receiver, and those who bear witness to the kindness.  The point of true kindness is just that … to be kind.  It carries on, long afterwards, and its impact, like that of people who regularly practice it, can be far reaching.

For what do most of us want to be remembered after we go on ahead?  Probably not something like being a good employee, or keeping a tidy house, or have a cool car, or wearing fashionable clothes – probably, hopefully, we want to be remembered for our positive actions, particularly those actions that have positively affected other people.  And when that remembering occurs, that’s Rippling.  And that is proof that actions and words live on long after we do, in the way that the words of our parents somehow end up coming out of our own mouths, in the stories told about us by our children to their children, in the things we have done that our loved ones talk about or think about because they think those things were funny/brave/smart, in the perspective of those who have known us and in those who have known those who have known us. 

When my kids were little, someone I knew asked me once what I wanted them to “be” when they grow up.  I’m sure she meant what did I want for them to have for a career and that she expected me to say something like a teacher, a doctor, or an architect.  Or maybe she thought I’d say that I wanted them to be rich and/or famous.  Regardless, though, what I said was this: “I want them to be kind.” 

She thought for a minute and then she said, “Well, be careful with that, because you don’t want them to always put others in front of themselves.  You don’t want them to change who they are to suit others.”

I think she had kindness confused with niceness.  Kindness is the quality of being friendly, generous, and considerate, and, to her first point, it can include how one treats oneself as well as how one treats others.  Niceness is being pleasant, agreeable, and satisfactory.   I don’t think it’s always the right choice to be nice, but I do think it’s always best to be kind, to ourselves and to others.  In extreme cases, kindness may mean just considering someone else’s perspective, background, or circumstances; it may mean being a little less harsh in our opinions or a little more cautious in jumping to conclusions.  It may simply mean opening ourselves up to the possibility of having our perspective changed by thinking about someone else’s situation.  That can’t be wrong.  It allows us to take what we know, what we believe, and the experiences of all that has impacted us in our lives and use it as a kind of Kaleidoscope or Viewfinder, something we look through to compose, and in many cases to focus, on the Big Picture. 

We are altered by those we love and those who love us.  We have been changed by many people whom we know and whom we have known.  In fact, we have been impacted in some way by everyone who has crossed our paths.  And crossing paths with us in turn affects others; it is our form of Immortality.  Our choices determine whether that impact is for the better or for the worse, and that is something that we can work on every day of our lives, something we can control in this out-of-control world.

Rippling is not a theory; each person undoubtedly lives on in the effects of our actions, words, thoughts, and perspective, in the memories of others and even in cases when our impact isn’t linked to a memory but to the Ripples we have generated.  Whether we intend to have an effect or not, those Ripples are created, and so the answer to the question we are all likely to ask when our time to go on ahead comes is a resounding YES – we will be remembered. We will have left a mark.  There will be a Rippling as a result of our having been here.  Each of us will have an impact of some sort.  We can do what we think is right, we can practice kindness or whatever else we choose to do, and then we can hope that what we leave behind is for the good and trust that it will then be passed on to others and then others. 

"Be kind whenever possible - and it's always possible." ~Dalai Lama