Marathon

I've heard all kinds of explanations for why people put their bodies through the rigors of a marathon, and although they usually make sense, they never really make very much sense.

Most of my marathon-running friends dislike the long and frequent training runs leading up to the race, but suffer through them because they love the race itself. This kind of makes sense. These people all make very serious time and energy commitments in order to have a very special day that they will remember for the rest of their lives.

Who will ever forget the triumph of crossing the finish line after a 26 mile run? Who will ever forget the joy of accomplishing a lofty goal towards which they have trained for so long? And who will ever forget the warmth and camaraderie of pissing themselves in a crowd of people who have either already pissed themselves, or plan on pissing themselves in the very near future?

On the other hand, another one of my friends actually likes the structured training program leading up to the race more than the race itself, because without it, he fears he'd lose the motivation to exercise. That kind of makes sense too. I know what it's like to be bored with exercising – although I can't imagine many things more boring than a two-hour training run after a full day of work. But, I see where he's coming from.

I went out to watch the Chicago marathon for the first time in 2009 on a cold October morning and found the experience to be very uplifting. The streets were lined with spectators who braved the cold for hours to enthusiastically cheer on the endless stream of runners, and local vendors passed out free coffee and snacks to keep everyone warm and energized. It was truly an inspiring display of humanity working together that made me proud to be a Lakeviewian, a Chicagoan, and most of all, it made me proud to be a human being.

I watched the marathon again this past year and saw more of the same: a never-ending sea of runners, sidewalks packed with enthusiastic supporters, and vendors giving out free snacks. Since this was my second time watching the marathon, it struck me that all of this enthusiasm must have been very rousing to runners for the first hour or two, but after that, it probably got a little boring. And if they've run the marathon before, not only were they bored with all of the repetitive fanfare, but they were probably sick of it.

So as I stood on the street corner and watched the runners go by, I decided to try something different.

I looked out onto the street and saw a runner who appeared to be very tired, so I got his attention and shouted, "Hey! You look like shit, and you're not even halfway there!"

He made eye contact with me, so I shouted, "And just think: the pain you're feeling right now is only the tip of the iceberg. That pain is going to amplify with every step. And think about what it’s going to be like tomorrow! That's when the real hurting begins!!"

He looked at me kind of confused and then turned his attention to a small group of strangers who gave him some water and called me an asshole and threw cups of water at me.

But I wasn't deterred, so as the next person ran by I shouted, "Hey! No matter how triumphant you feel right now, you're still going to have to go to work on Monday morning. And who knows, maybe if you're lucky, your boss will come over to your desk and pat you on the back before telling you to get back to work or else he’ll fire your fucking ass!"

This time, one of the guys from the group of people who had thrown water at me earlier threatened to kick my ass if I didn't "shut the fuck up", so I left. But as I walked down the street I spotted a girl who looked very tired, so I shouted to her, "Hey! Anyone can run 26 miles, but not everyone can recover from running 26 miles. You're gonna have all kinds of fucked up joint problems when you're older! I hope it was worth it, you crazy bitch!"

I immediately regretted calling her a bitch. That was mean.

The man running alongside her – who I hadn't noticed – began chasing after me and said he was going to "fucking kill" me. But he couldn't catch me because I was fresh, whereas he had already run ten miles. So when he gave up the chase, I slowed down and looked back at him and said, "Hey man, I'm sorry about that. I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have called her a bitch. I’m sure she’s a wonderful woman."

I stopped running and held out my hand for him to shake. As he reached out, I pulled my hand back and stuck my foot out and tripped him.

He tumbled to the ground and laid there for a few seconds before his girlfriend came over to help him up.

She looked up at me and shouted, "You're such a fucking asshole! Why are you doing this?"

She looked around and asked, "Will someone call the police?"

I fled the scene and ran into a steakhouse on the corner and ordered the biggest bloodiest ribeye they had. Once it was ready, I took it outside in my hand and got on the course and ran alongside a very lean and healthy looking runner.

I got the runner's attention and took a huge bite of the steak, and then, with my mouth half full of steak and blood dripping from my chin, I said, "Hey, run all you want, because I'm gonna eat this steak, and by the time I get home and polish off a few fingers of Gentleman Jack, you'll probably be wiping the diarrhea off your leg and preparing yourself for the agony of an ice bath. And get this: 100 years from now, we'll both be in the same place."

A police officer came up from behind and tackled me and knocked the steak out of my hand and put me in a chokehold and pinned me to the ground and said he'd rough me up and throw me in jail if he saw me on the course again.

"Watch the fucking steak!" I said to him. "Watch the fucking steak!"

He let me up and shouted, "Get out of here before I make your life a lot worse than it probably already is!"

"Well then maybe you shouldn't disrespect another man's steak, you motherfucker!" I shouted back as I turned a corner and ran.

I walked a block and then spotted a woman running with her wedding ring on, so I quickly ran alongside her and shouted, "Hey, what do you think your husband was doing while you were out on those 15 mile training runs?"

She looked confused, so I continued, "I've got a few guesses and they all involve him chasing cocktail waitresses."

She looked at me with disgust, so I continued, "I bet he encouraged the hell out of you to run the marathon!"

She finally responded, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Hey, I'm not the one who spent the last five months training to run 26 miles, when I can just as easily get in my car and drive 26 miles without having to waste my whole fucking summer!"

Another group of spectators started yelling at me to get off the course. When I looked back to see them, I caught a glimpse of the police officer coming back my way, so I got off the course and blended in with the spectators.

I stood around for the next hour and watched quietly until some of the slower runners began passing by. As a tired woman approached wearing a shirt that said she was running the race in honor of her father who recently died of a heart attack, I shouted, "Hey, there are eight year-olds in Kenya who can run this thing barefoot faster than you!"

She looked at me without saying anything, so I continued, "And you can probably feed their entire village for a month for the price of those fucking Nikes you're wearing!"

Just then I heard a bang and felt a bullet go whizzing by my head.

The police officer had just fired his gun at me.

I grabbed the woman and hid behind her as the officer squeezed out a few more rounds.

When I heard him reloading, I got up and ran.

I ran to the lake and decided to take a walk along the lakefront to calm myself. The walk turned out to be exactly what I needed. The cool breeze and bright sun reflecting off the lake brought me back to my senses.

I took out my camera and snapped a couple of pictures, and then as I started walking again, I heard a voice behind me say, "Excuse me, I think you dropped a dollar bill when you took out your camera."

I turned around and saw an old man standing a few feet behind me pointing at a dollar bill that had fallen out of my pocket. When I reached down to pick it up, a gust of wind blew it right behind the old man and onto the edge of the pier.

"I'll get it." He said with a smile as he slowly turned to pick up the bill.

"Thank you sir." I replied.

I walked over to him as he carefully bent forward at the waist to pick up the dollar bill. Just as he was about to grab the bill, I lifted my foot, put it up against his butt, and gently pushed him into the lake.