I’ll Take Mine in a Doggie Bag, Please!
I’ve heard distance runners and the even nuttier people who find it necessary to write about distance running talking about the emotional state – singular – of a runner in motion. Maybe it’s singular simply because it’s too difficult to write about too many things at once or maybe it’s because other runners are just a little more focused than I am. Mind you, I tend to nod my head in agreement with most of their observations. Runner’s high? Absolutely! Mental stability of a two year old? You betcha. Zen-calm, totally accepting of all that is? Well, I get that one less often, but sure.
What occurred to me on Sunday as I ran the Equinox trail…again…is that the entire marathon experience is really a bit too much. It’s a kind of gluttony of the senses as you see and hear and experience more than you can recount afterward. The physical effort and the emotionally charged energy of the people around you conspire to create an experience that is way over the top and self-indulgent in a way I don’t know that I’d allow myself in any other area of my life.
You may be reading this long after I wrote it, but I can see you shaking your head. I know, most people wouldn’t use the term “self-indulgent” to describe a marathon. But I’m here to tell you, it is.
So I was bopping along the trail somewhere in the vicinity of Mile 6 on Sunday, having already experienced several eye-popping views, the hysterical cheering of friends and strangers and an opportunity to commune with the reindeer when I had a thought: “This is too much for me to digest in one sitting, I’ll just take mine in a doggie bag, please.”
Just pack up my marathon in a go-box and I’ll slice it off in bite size chunks and polish it off all week, taking time to savor each morsel. It seemed like a really good idea at the time in those early miles of the marathon with so much still ahead.
When I started running, I thought I was slow. That’s not a completely unjustified perception – every one of us is, after all, slower than someone else. I’m starting to understand, though, that I’m not actually slow. I’m easily distracted. A few years ago, a Team In Training coach accused me of being a sandbagger and at the time, I was really offended. “I’m doing my best!” I said. He just laughed – “not even close.” The overachiever in me was hurt and ashamed. Now, at least on a good day, I wouldn’t sacrifice making conversation with the reindeer for the sake of picking up the pace. And I certainly wouldn’t sacrifice one moment of seeing a friend’s grin out of the corner of my eye as we share the kinds of stupid jokes that are only funny in the context of 26.2 miles.
So as I headed a little further down the trail, I started thinking about that doggie bag. Maybe this thing is more like Thanksgiving dinner. You start out with homemade muffins and coffee in the morning, then taste and sample and test while delectables are cooking and baking and roasting all day long. Finally, you sit down to the table knowing full and well that you’ll be putting a dollop of whipped cream on your pumpkin pie even when the pie itself barely fits in your belly.
It’s like that – the experience is one to savor and there’s something to be said for sampling an overabundance on really special occasions. I hope I never lose that feeling, the understanding that a day spent running with a good friend is an overabundance and a special occasion.
The Equinox Marathon is unique in any number of ways and anyone who has ever run it will be happy to give you a list – you may be sorry you asked. It’s difficult and never really gets any easier. It’s irresistible and pulls you back year after year, long after you know how your quads will feel for the rest of the week. It captures your imagination and you entertain hopes of bounding through the Out and Back and cruising into the finish stronger and faster than the reality of your training and preparation would ever allow.
It really hit me on Saturday, though, why this race is unique for me and holds such a special place in my heart and mind. Some communities have a meeting hall or town square – Fairbanks has the Equinox Marathon. It’s my chance to see everyone, to give them sweaty hugs, to see all my peeps before snow flies and be sure that they’re well and have slogged their way through another year. It’s really a way to touch everyone without being strange and creepy about it, although you may be reading this thinking “ick!” over the sweaty hugs. My sister the dog lover would say that I need to run with my pack to make sure the pack is intact. Doing that right before winter sets in makes an uncommon amount of sense.
The Equinox Marathon is like a year of births and deaths and weddings and gossip all rolled into one day. Since I don’t like to dress up for weddings, it’s a much more efficient way of connecting with the people I care about. I ran my slowest time yet on the Equinox course this year and yet the running of it was far and away the most powerful of the five I’ve run – and that’s saying a lot. I wonder how I’ll feel when I run my 20th Equinox?
So, no thank you to the doggie bag and bring on the extra helping of pumpkin pie!
