I was at mile 19. Her face I can’t recall but this stranger’s kind eyes will stay with me for life.
Mile 19. It’s a tough place to be. I was more than halfway through running the Philadelphia marathon but still 7 miles away from the finish line. That’s still well over an hour of running after I had already done 4 hours. As I rounded the curve toward a water station, this woman grabbed my forearm, her face leaned in close to mine, and she said with conviction:
“Don’t give up.”
She must have seen the look of despair in my eyes. At this point the toes on my right foot were swollen twice their size and I was just waiting to see a maroon color seep through the top of my white sneakers. Blood — a sure sign the feet were giving up. But the mind wasn’t ready for that option.
As I cursed myself and my lack of training (I gave myself two months to train and then quit 5 weeks into it) I kept thinking, “Just put one foot in front of the other and don’t stop. Just don’t stop.”
I wasn’t initially going to run a full marathon. I figured I’d stop at the half. I simply didn’t have enough training and my schedule prevented me from dedicating to a legitimate running plan. But when I arrived at the fork in the road and looked over at my running partner, I knew it wasn’t over.
“Get over in the left lane,” he deadpanned. Left side meant the full marathon, right side — the half marathon finish line. “How did I know you were going to say that?” I replied, in an equally serious tone. I knew there was no stopping. I thought to myself, “Now is as good a time as ever.” To be completely truthful I couldn’t bear another few months of training for a marathon anyway.
That message from a kind stranger helped me keep going, it was a step apart from the blanket cheers emanating from the sidelines and my eyes couldn’t help but well up with tears. Walk or run, my friend and I were going to finish this thing.
To my friend Michael, who was in much better shape than I and had to listen to quite a few grunts, murmurs and f-bombs from my side of our little running team…I can not thank you enough.
To the strangers who volunteer and cheer from the sidelines, I would shake your hand and thank you all individually if I could. My words can’t describe the overwhelming support I felt or how much it helped.
To the woman who stared into my eyes and gave me reason to keep putting one foot in front of the other:
I didn’t give up.
