The modern marathon race traces its roots to the legend of an ancient Greek messenger who, in 490 B.C., ran from Marathon to Athens with the news of a Greek victory over an invading army of Persians. After making his announcement, the exhausted messenger collapsed and died. To honor his run and sacrifice, the inaugural 1896 Olympic marathon was set at 40 kilometers – the distance from Marathon to Athens.
According to good ol’ Merriam-Webster, there are two definitions of the word marathon. The first recognizes the above, a footrace run on an open course usually of 26.2 miles. The second is something characterized by great length or concentrated effort. Courtesy of our two wonderful children – who are now young adults – my wife and I have recently, and are today, remembering both types of marathons.
We experienced the first definition – the literal of the two – on Sunday, Nov. 5, as we watched our daughter run the New York City Marathon.
After running another Disney Princess Challenge earlier this year – a 5K, 10K and half-marathon on successive days – our daughter got it in her mind that she was going to run her first marathon. The question was just which marathon.
She and I have done a few half-marathons together, including the aforementioned Disney Princess runs, but dear old dad had no desire to check off a marathon on his bucket list. Mainly because it’s not on my bucket list. Having had a hand in organizing the three local Mt. Nittany Marathons the Mount Nittany Conservancy sponsored between 2013 and 2015, I knew that running a marathon was definitely not an experience I need to have. Thirteen miles is far enough. So, Miss J, as we affectionately call her, was on her own.
I was hoping that she would choose a marathon somewhere in Pennsylvania. The Steamtown Marathon in Scranton, or the Erie Marathon on Presque Isle State Park, for example. Or worst case, the Pittsburgh Marathon. However, our daughter had other plans and decided that her desire was to run the New York City marathon — and raise money for the Crohn’s & Colitis Foundation since she has Crohn’s Disease.
Race day dawned clear and beautiful as we escorted Miss J down to the Staten Island Ferry to see her off. For those unfamiliar with the New York City Marathon, the course starts on Staten Island, crosses the Verrazano Narrows Bridge – which means the steepest hill and highest point on the course occurs at the first mile – and then winds through the other four boroughs of Brooklyn, Queens, Manhattan and the Bronx, and finishes in Central Park.
Many family members and friends will usually try to glimpse their running friends two or three times during the race, as navigating around the entirety of New York City can be a daunting task. But having worked in Manhattan for a few years, I was determined to use the subway system to catch sight of our daughter as many times as we could through the race. Ultimately we saw her eight times during the race, five in Brooklyn and three in Manhattan, including just a few hundred yards before the finish. And we just missed her two other times on the Upper East Side!
The wonder of thousands upon thousands of runners – 51,402 of whom finished – was an impressive sight. The weather was picture perfect for a marathon, and there were spectators lining the streets everywhere we went – sometimes four or five deep. The runners were an inspiring group and the looks of those walking away from the finish lines and out of Central Park wearing their medals and the bright orange hooded capes were priceless, running the gamut from exhaustion to elation.
For her part, our daughter finished in great shape. As she passed us at mile 22 she smiled and said, “I got this.” Her mother choked up and cried a bit every time we saw her, and when we finally got to hug her after the race she was thrilled about what she had done. She raised $3,950 for her charity, and was feeling so good that she declined my offers of a pedi-cab, regular cab, Uber or subway to get back to her hotel, and instead walked the 20 blocks. In her post-race recovery flip flops! What a marathon.
Now today, Tuesday, Nov. 14, we’re experiencing the second definition of marathon – the figurative of the two – because it’s our son’s birthday.
I can understand how some might wonder why we would equate our son with a word meaning “something characterized by great length or concentrated effort.” Except, on the day of his birth 23 years ago, it had been just that, a long and concentrated effort.
My wife and I had difficulty getting pregnant, and after eight years of trying our daughter was born. Almost six years later her brother arrived, having been the last of the embryos we had created years prior. We knew we weren’t going to undergo any additional in-vitro fertilization procedures after that, and the time and effort it had consumed – physically, mentally, socially and financially – certainly felt like it had been a marathon.
But similar to our daughter’s literal marathon experience nine days ago, the arrival of our son was a thrilling day. It started when we went to the hospital soon after midnight, and after some time in a large tub, without medication, and with a midwife attending, he popped into the world. Not everything worked perfectly though, and my wife required a transfusion due to the loss of blood in giving birth, but that just put a metaphorical exclamation point on the wonderful result of 14 years of effort. Efforts we are thankful for every day.
So, whether you are one of the few people in this country – 0.05% — who have completed an actual marathon race, or whether you are one of the many people who have experienced a figurative personal marathon, we hope you have been able to do it with family and enjoy.
