In the depths of winter training I dreamt of running in sunshine and spring like conditions in Boston, as long as it was warm and dry, maybe shorts and T-shirt weather, yet the dream was becoming a nightmare as the reality of running (shuffling really) in 30 degree temperatures set in as I stood sweating at the start line. By the 10k point I wondered what on earth I was doing even taking part in this race and by 15k I was walking, shoulders hunched just trying to get to half way at least. It was at this point that I saw a wheelchair in front of me, with the person seated in the wheelchair facing me as I ran towards him with 2 volunteers walking either side to offer support and to protect him from the thousands of runners and, I guess, to tell him which way he was going, as he was essentially reversing along the course. I do not know what condition the man suffered from but what I saw was very limited physical mobility. He was sitting awkwardly in the wheelchair with his head raised and twisted to look behind him to see where he was going. His feet also appeared to have restricted mobility as he was making short shuffling pushing movements with his feet in an effort to move along the course.
Around the time I saw this person in the wheelchair my funk had set in and I wanted to be anywhere else rather than running in 30 degree heat and having to treat myself to a shower at every water station in an effort to keep cool. Without too much persuasion I could have walked off the course with no regrets. After watching and thinking about this chap for a few steps I began to realize what an ass I was being. I was beating myself up because I felt uncomfortable and my mind “wasn’t in the race”. What a jerk! It was clearly going to take this chap many, many hours to finish the marathon along with his volunteers and the effort it was taking was incredible, almost superhuman in fact, to push yourself along 26.2 miles in 30 degree heat.
Further along the course I passed Team Hoyt, Dick and his son Rick are as famous in the Triathlon world as any World or Olympic Champion. It’s hard not to be moved when you see a father pushing his son in a wheelchair along a Marathon course but bear in mind that this father and son combination have been competing in Ironman Triathlon for many years (1,000 races completed, including marathons, duathlons and triathlons (6 of them being Ironman competitions). Also adding to their list of achievements, Dick and Rick biked and ran across the U.S. in 1992, completing a full 3,735 miles in 45 days). Sound easy, but consider that Rick is now 49 and his father is still pushing him.
These efforts are incredible, yet too often we beat ourselves up because it’s too warm, too cold, too windy, too tired. Perspective is what we need and I had a big wake-up call on Monday morning when running past these folks. Long after I had my finishers medal placed around my neck I knew that these brave folks would still be out there around the Newton hills in the blazing heat of the day. Seeing them on the route was humbling and I ran the rest of the race with a smile on my face and thanked as many volunteers as possible and soaked in the atmosphere of the noise of the crowd cheering and supporting everyone.
Did I run my expected time – no. I ran a PW, a personal worst, but in retrospect I felt that Boston 2012 was the best marathon of my life. I ran to finish the race, to enjoy the experience, to listen to the crowd, to thank the volunteers and to soak in the atmosphere. When I walked people shouted encouragement and I made it. Was it easy, no, but I’ll be dammed if it wasn’t easier for me that my friend in the wheelchair or for Team Hoyt. I gained a new perspective, rather than chasing splits and examining heart rate zones I ran for the pure simple joy of putting one foot in front of the other.
