My family has watched my dad in his running journey, from the time he began running just to keep in shape to his decision to train for a marathon. When his friends urged him to try and qualify for the famous, historic Boston Marathon, we all said we would be in Boston to see him run it.
After attempting to qualify three times, my dad ran the Chicago Marathon and made the qualifying time of running 26.2 miles in 3 hours, 34 minutes. We were ecstatic and were tracking him from our computers and phones. It was an incredible day!
Now, 6 months later, we've just returned from watching him run the Boston Marathon.
It was absolutely, hands-down, one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I knew I needed to do a post that was writing-only, and do a pictures post later. There are just too many things I'm trying to sort out.
On race day, it was pandemonium in Boston. Kurt, my brother, my dad's father ("Dah") left early that morning to drop my dad off at the race start about an hour outside of the city. I took my two sisters, my mom, and my dad's mom ("Mimi") on the subway and into the city. Our plan was to meet up, try to grab some lunch, then secure a viewing spot.
When my group emerged from the subway station, there was a certain feeling in the air. Boston had completely transformed to accommodate the race and the runners. There were kiosks, tents, roads were blocked, people were everywhere. Thankfully I had my bearings because Kurt and I had kind of explored the area a couple of days before. After calling Kurt and figuring out where he was, we began the challenge of trying to actually GET to him. It. Was. Crazy.
So many roads were blocked. I went up to a police officer and said, "Would you please direct me to the best street for the John Hancock Building?" His response: "Tell everyone you're Mrs. Hancock." It was so endearing, and he had that thick Bostonian accent. Soon, we did find the John Hancock building, and I saw Kurt waving across the street in the throng of people. I felt like I had conquered the world! :)
The guys had secured us a table at Au Bon Pain, and we ate lunch as a family. My group had stopped at a kiosk and made posters for Dad, and we couldn't wait to see him! I was praying the whole time that we wouldn't miss the opportunity to see him, and that we would find a spot that allowed everyone to get a clear view. I had no idea what to expect, because we hadn't even gotten to Boylston Street, where the race course was. After lunch, Kurt and I decided to go scope out a spot. Actually, it was Kurt appeasing me because I was too antsy and Type A to sit still in the restaurant. At this point, it was around noon, and Dad wasn't due across the finish line until around 2:00ish. But I couldn't wait!
As we approached Boylston Street, I literally stopped breathing. It was incredible. People lined the streets, waving flags and signs, cheering, ringing cowbells. Runners were running by, and I felt tears in my eyes. It was the most incredible scene of strangers encouraging and cheering for all of these runners, who were also strangers. Hardly anyone knew each other, yet there was a comraderie. People were yelling out people's names (who had them on their running shirts). I was blown away.
Kurt and I inched our way into a thin part of the crowd, at about Mile 26. The finish line was visible. I was instantly captivated by seeing these runners; people I didn't even know. Some looked exhausted, some looked joyful, some looked like they were about to collapse, and some looked like they could have run another 5 miles. All around me, I started to listen to the crowd:
"You can do it!"
"Keep going! You're almost there!"
"You look great! You're going to make it!"
"Don't stop! Keep running!"
I almost couldn't handle the affirmation that society sometimes really does step outside of itself and cheer for others.
I saw runners cramp up and have to stop and stretch. I saw some bleeding. I saw one guy who had run the thing with bare feet.
I saw people walking/running for charities. I saw people with their arms around each other, propelling each other to the finish line. I saw 80 year old runners; I saw teenagers.
I saw runners with huge grins on their faces as they ran past me and gave me high-fives. I saw people with such intensity in their faces, you didn't dare cheer or it might distract them too much.
Soon, my family found us and we all inched our way toward the rail as other families spotted their runners and left. After a bit, we were smushed up against the metal and expecting to see Dad.
We were all ready--everyone had their signs, the camera, the video camera. After all I had seen, I couldn't believe that we were about to see someone we knew; and not just that. My dad! As we tracked him on my phone, we started estimating when he would be close. We knew he was wearing an orange shirt, dark shorts, and a white hat. Every time we saw orange in the distance, we strained to see if it was him. Soon, we saw a flash of orange on our side of the street, a ways down. We saw the flash of orange pause, and we knew it was my Dad, stopping to see my brother (he was up a ways from us, so he could get Dad's attention and tell him where we were).
Like you saw in the video, we couldn't stop screaming and cheering for him! I will never forget that moment, because we spent 2 hours watching thousands of other runners, but only one mattered to us. And here he was!
He could barely talk, but he hugged us, told us he loved us, and kept going. It was worth every single dime spent on that trip, every single mile that we walked in the city, and every minute we spent waiting. It was so worth it.
Afterword, we met up with Dad in the Family Meeting Area, and took a few pictures. My sister and brother had to support Dad because his legs were extra tired--there was a section called "Heartbreak Hill" that really was a challenge for every runner in that race. But he had done it!
Later that afternoon, once we were all back at the hotel, we found out about the very sudden death of a family friend. She was especially a close friend of my mom's. She taught all three of my siblings in school, and played the flute at my wedding. It was devastating. My entire family cried in the hotel room together. It was almost impossible to believe that one minute we were watching humanity at its peak; running with almost a supernatural endurance. And then we learned that a life suddenly ended that day, with no warning. It was almost too much to comprehend.
That night, once Kurt and I were in bed alone, I couldn't handle the emotions of what I had witnessed that day. I cried and cried. I cried because of Jane's death. I cried because I witnessed such a universal love at the marathon. I cried because my dad completed a life goal and I was there to witness it. I cried because I was irritated with myself that I haven't had the discipline to run like that. It was all overwhelming.
Now that I've written it all down, I feel like I've sorted everything out. What an amazing, glorious, tragic, compelling day. It still hasn't left me.
I am reminded of the verses of Hebrews 12:1-3:
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses [the crowd of people at the race], let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles [like how the runners wore just the right gear], and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. [Don't quit!] Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith [OUR finish line--eternity with Him!], who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.
We've all heard the analogy of life being a race or a marathon, but this gave me a visual that I will never be able to forget. We are literally running a race our entire lives. As we were reminded on Monday, some people have shorter races to run than others. Some races end unexpectedly and without warning. But as long as you're running with the cross and heaven in front of you as your finish line, it doesn't matter how long your race is, or what obstacles you encounter. It doesn't even matter if you have a crowd watching you or not. Just run to the best of your ability. Train like an athlete, only use Scripture and Bible Study as your tools. Don't be sidetracked by the world. Throw off the hinderances that keep you from being the most devoted runner you can be.
I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.
2 Timothy 4:7
2 Timothy 4:7
What an amazing day. Thanks for the lessons, Dad. :)
