The Marathon Spectator

I think I get it now.

I’ve been involved with running events for a long time, since the beginning of college. They were mostly 5Ks and in addition to running a few I’ve been the race coordinator for some too. Despite my involvement and running my first half marathon in March I really didn’t get it until this past weekend.

I’m not sure I was prepared for the excitement, passion and power of the Flying Pig race events in Cincinnati. My husband had planned to run the marathon, his first, since January. I was thrilled to go and support him, but aside from the emotion of seeing him tackle an incredible challenge I thought I would be a simple spectator.

It rained…a lot. As we walked in the dark towards the start line of the full and half marathon there was a mixture of racers ready to go and their support teams holding umbrellas and wrapped in rain gear. As the crowd swarmed around us I couldn’t stifle the tiny voice in my head saying – oh, I wish I was running!

I’m not sure that this was truly how I felt. The thought of doing another 13.1 miles in the rain exhausted me, but the excitement of this specific event had taken over. That is what it is all about. It motivates you. It motivates you out of your comfort zone and beyond what you thought you were capable of.

I stood on 7th street in downtown Cincinnati. It was mile 5, the only place I would get to see my husband before the finish. Usually I’m snapping photos like crazy, but the rain had changed those plans and I had already gotten the flip so wet that it was, well, flipping out on me. It was just me, my eyes, my voice and my hands. So I cheered, and cheered, and cheered.

I remembered what it was like when I ran my half – the rain, the lack of spectator support, how incredibly hard it was because of those two things. I didn’t want to let anyone else go through that, not even at mile 5. So I cheered.

I was moved to tears more times than I could count. I caught runner’s eyes and they smiled as I clapped especially for them. Some said thank you. It was beautiful and it felt amazing that I could relate to them and how they felt at mile 5.

The crowd was loud when large groups of runners came by, but their shouts and cheers dwindled as the hour passed. I was frustrated with this crowd, to say the least. If they understood how these runners had stepped out their comfort zones to run these races, then they should have been willing to step out of theirs to cheer. I know it feels uncomfortable to have only your claps and yells heard in a crowd, but the support is so important.

I had a gentleman come up to me and tell me I was a good cheerer and I explained my half experience a few weeks before. His granddaughters were running their first half. This was one of many interesting conversations I had throughout the day.

The finish line was, of course, the most amazing part of the event. The support was still mixed until a man stood behind me and did more cheering than I had even mustered. We talked about all the people standing by to watch with closed mouths and hands in their pockets. He was frustrated too. I do believe he cheered for each and every person that passed us from that point on.

I had positioned myself just before the last tenth of a mile on the marathon side and watched both half and full runners finish. I was inspired as I saw half marathoners holding hands to cross the line, a woman at least 6-months pregnant jog in, and a man at least 70 lbs. overweight run past me. Think weight is a barrier to fitness? Ha! He finished the half about 20 minutes faster than I did.

I watched marathoners cross the line with smiles on their faces, some with tears in their eyes and others grimacing in pain. Some looked as though they had just run 3 miles instead of 26 and some were nursing an injury. I remember one specific guy who stopped and began walking in front of me and I cheered as loud as I could at him that he was almost there. I turned to watch him start running again on to the finish line. Cheering and support matters.

I had my camera all set up to take the perfect picture of my husband running in. I saw him, started shaking with excitement and sent my finger over my dial throwing my shutter speed out of whack. Good pictures just were not in the cards for us.

I screamed, I yelled, but he didn’t hear. I snapped bad pictures and took off running towards the finish line, knocking over a few people in the process. They all seemed to understand.

He finished in about 4:39. Incredible. Inspiring. He is amazing. I am so proud of him, but never doubted for a minute that he could do it.

And I get it.

It has nothing to do with being athletic, an exerciser or even a runner. It is about the passion and ability to push yourself beyond your perceived capabilities. Even if you never run a half or full marathon, I encourage you to at least go watch one. What you witness will change you and it is a lesson that can be applied to every area of life.