The Marathon

At the Start of the Austin Marathon

On Sunday, February 17, 2013, my son Robert (Rob is his Austin persona), and his fiancee, Sarah, ran the Austin Marathon.  They ran the full 26.2 miles against the odds and together, from start to finish. 

It was the first time I’ve witnessed a marathon, and I was not prepared for the range of emotions I would witness and even experience myself.  I don’t enjoy running; I didn’t enjoy it when I could run.  I walk now and certainly not fast enough to be able to finish 26.2 miles in the seven-hour time limit that day.  The sheer energy and joy of the 20,000 runners at the start of the marathon produced a totally unexpected burst of tears from me.  “I get it!” I found myself saying aloud to no one.  I followed the runners for as long as possible just to continue to feel that energy.

Sarah and Robert were both running with leg injuries, and Sarah had a throat virus—I didn’t see how they could finish.  Jim and I followed the course in the car with the aid of a tracking program available through an App on our iPhones.  We had first aid supplies and water and blankets in case the kids injured themselves further.  At each station we caught up with them they were smiling and talking and called out that they were just fine.  At about 20 miles it started to get rough for them and they were walking at one point.  We texted that we’d see them at the finish and drove back to the Capitol where the marathon would end.

They slowed quite a bit during the last few miles, and as we waited I was becoming frantic that something had gone wrong so close to the finish line.  I watched as people of all ages, shapes, and sizes crossed that line to cheers and applause.  I watched as two middle-aged women crossed sobbing, with their arms around each other.  I cried with them. 

Finally, Robert and Sarah came around the last turn, running side-by-side, and smiling.  Robert raised his arm in triumph, and Jim and I snapped photos of the two young victors.  Again I cried.  The next day Jim wrote the following tribute to our son and his future wife.  I felt it was worth sharing with you.

Donna

Rob and Sarah,

         Yesterday was a very special day, not only for you two, but for me as well, and I have a few reflections that I wanted to share with you.  Before I do that though, I want to share something else with you.

         There comes a time in all parents’ lives when their children leave home, and for the first time as a parent we realize we will not be there for all those little life events and firsts that we were a part of before.  We reflect on the first time you took a step, or spoke your first words, or the time you read for the first time or rode a bike or drove a car.  Or that first hit in Little League, or you built a fire on a camp out, sparred in Karate, flew an airplane, so many things.  We realize we won't be there in our child's life for those moments and it is a very sad, bittersweet day.  Our child is doing exactly what we have prepared them for, but we are not prepared for that moment.

         Allowing us to be a part of your achievement yesterday was a privilege and an honor.  We listened all those months ago when you said you had decided to run the marathon and we got almost daily reports on how that was progressing.  Then came the news of Rob's stress fracture and the less than quick recovery.  We wondered if you, Sarah, would run alone or Rob would do the best he could and walk it if need be or just support you.  We knew Rob was disappointed.  But still you both made plans to continue on.  Then Sarah, you got sick and all the questions started about whether you could even get out of bed to participate.  

         When we arrived to pick you up yesterday, I could see the concern and pre-game tension and the questioning looks on both your faces.  It was still there as we arrived at the Capitol, but minute-by-minute the looks on your faces changed from concern to acceptance and then determination.  You both started to focus on the task ahead of you, and I could see in your faces that if you took that first step you would not quit until you crossed the finish line.  

         After heading off in the wrong direction we located you when you came back across the river.  You both looked surprisingly strong and step for step with each other.  The fact that you continued that way for the entire marathon told me volumes about the two of you as individuals and as a couple.  I can only imagine the conversations you had, the encouragement you offered to each other, the support, the energy, and the whole thing it took for you to finish together.  We know it was not easy and at times not fun, but you were doing it totally together.

         I have never seen a bigger smile on Rob's face as I did yesterday as you came across the finish line.  What the two of you did was one of the most courageous personal achievements I have had the privilege to witness and take a small part in.  You will both forever have my deep respect for your accomplishment.  You did it together and you finished strong.  You own the Austin Marathon and you can take that with you wherever your lives take you.  

        

26.2 Miles and 5:17 Hours Later

For Donna and I it was a thrill to watch and support you both, even if we (I) had a little fender bender racing between observation points.  We wish we could have done more, but the two of you were magnificent.

         Thank you for letting us be a part of this most significant event in your lives together.

Love you tons!

Dad