I decided to devote this posting to a bit more lighthearted lessons I've learned about the marathon. I've completed six now (marathons, that is, not lessons), so I feel like I've picked up a few experiential nuggets of wisdom.
Lesson 1: When people cheer "Looking good!" it means that you look like you are running. Your feet are leaping off the pavement and moving forward with each stride. When people cheer "Great abs!" it means that you no longer look like a runner, but a sunbather who likes to work out in the gym a few times a week. In my most recent marathon, I got a lot of compliments on my abs during the latter parts of the race . . . ugh. But more seriously,
Lesson 2: It is impolite to tell your friends and family that you had a bad race. In the marathon, people find it oxymoronic to hear "I was disappointed with my finish in the marathon," as if merely finishing were the goal, all they hear is SUCCESS! I find that it's best to nod and smile when people congratulate me on a disappointing performance, because in many ways, it is still an accomplishment to finish, especially on a day when the wrath of 26.2 is unkind to me.
Lesson 3: You will be under-dressed. Granted, all six of the marathons I've done have been big city marathons, but each time I feel almost amateurish showing up in my matching, professional club gear compared to everyone else. You have never seen so much dry-fit inventory in your life until you show up at the start of a marathon. You'll see grandmothers wearing layered, matching Nike warm-ups; you'll see custom made running hats; and if it's inclement weather, you'll see arm bands, jackets, compression socks, and thermal underwear. Of course, you'll also see people wearing trash bags to the starting line, but underneath those trash bags you can bet you'll find lined running shorts.
Lesson 4: Volunteers appreciate it when you do not spray them with water as you run by and try to grasp a cup. This becomes problematic when, invariably at about mile 10, my left hand loses coordination. If the water is lined up only on the left side of the road, I either have to turn my body to grab with my right, or I try with my left and smash the cup to the ground like I was giving it a high five.
Lesson 5: It is okay to draft, but people like their personal space. My favorite spot is to run behind two tall men who can break the wind for me. In exchange, all they usually ask is a few bits of information. As long as I'm not too winded to tell them that I'm from the Boston area, they let me tag along. But if I get too close, it's a safe bet that their next mile will be faster than mine.
Lesson 6: Fast friends are made on marathon courses. Stick with another runner for a few miles, and he or she will remember your name for years. I still remember the guy who helped me through a few tough miles of my first marathon (Nashville in 2007). His name was Rick. This may be common knowledge, but it's one of the greatest parts of the running community. Everyone generally cheers for one another. In such a competitive sport, we all recognize that in the end it's about pushing your body further than you thought you could. I can't think of anybody that I think "Gee, I hope that person runs slowly today." (However, I may think, "I hope I run faster than that person today.")
Next up, I'll delve into the physiological and psychological lessons I've learned from the marathon. Tune in soon for Part II.
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