The Liquid Kosmos

Energy has no equal

I am genuinely happy as an observer. I've spent far more hours listening to people yak about their problems then talk about mine. I've read more than I've written. My sexual activity has been more passive viewing then active participation. And today my senses were once again in gathering mode.

At 8:00 this morning I flipped on the TV and the station I work for was covering the marathon. I laid in bed for a few minutes, then I realized the race was going down the street a block from my house. I through on the morning gear and walked down to soak in the sights.Since I'm typically annoyed when I wake up I was taking a risk. These are the "happy go-get em" types and I would be thrust into the peak of their day. As I got closer the screams and excitement almost made me turn around, but I trudged forward.

The race has about 20,000 runners and I was positioned at mile seven. Exuberant people lined the sidelines and the sleep in my eyes shuttered as the guy next to me shouted "Go, go, go, go" every thirty seconds. It was always "Go, go, go, go." Four "goes" in a row. Time and time again. I cringed. Then inbetween one of his "go strings" he turned to the guy next to him and said, "That's what I love about cheering for a marathon, you can say the same thing over and over because it's never the same people." I nearly said, "yeah, but what about me???" I decided to move.

I walked toward mile 8 and as I turned a small corner I heard music. It was one of 26 bands that were set up along the course. They were singing Aretha Franklin's "Think" or whatever it's called and the part I heard first was "Freedom, yeah Freedom.... and I shit you not, it almost brought a tear to my eye. The sight was amazing. Thousands of runners raising their hands as they labored past the band and it was impossible not to feel the emotion of the situation. There was a group of young girls dressed as the "Energizer Bunnies," playing the drum like the bunny does in the commercial. People yelling inspiration to the runners. Runners saying things like, "thanks for coming out, it makes a difference," as they ran by. I felt like a winner and loser at the same time. How could I not be running in this race?

I started training, but couldn't get past the mental part and that is sad. If I can physically do something, why can't I wrap my mind around it and run? That feeling didn't last long, though.

Watching this race was an inspiration and if nothing else it has put this blog into motion. All types passed me by. Skinny, fat, injured, ugly, beautiful. Marathon runners are not created equally. Sure, the winners will be thin and gangly, but the other 19,000 will be a lesson in diversity. Why not me?

I saw a guy I work with run by and I shouted his name. He was drenched in sweat and in a daze. I think I startled him, but he seemed happy. Then later, as I was standing by our reporting crew, another guy from our morning show stopped running and did an interview. He's usually joking and making light of situations, but today he had the most sincere and genuine face I've ever seen him wear. He called the race a spiritual experience. Thousands in front, thousands more behind, and the Nashville skyline surrounding them all. He had obviously shed a tear.

Mile eight was clearing out. The runners were now mainly walkers as I turned to go home. The walkers were on a 6 hour pace to complete the 13.1 mile half marathon. They were talking and having a good time with their friends. The more I moved against their flow, the thinner it got. I wondered who would be the person coming up the rear. I wondered how long the committee would let them take.

Then I crossed a street that was blocked off by a police car and a big black cop. I said, "Are you getting any inspiration?" And before I got to the middle of that question he was responding with, "Allllright then." What the hell is that? Brothas do that all the time. It's as if he had no intention of hearing what I was about to say. "Alllright then." I could have said, "Are you ready for an ass whoopin?" and he would have responded the same way. "Are you as dumb as you look?" "Alllright then."

As I re-approached mile seven the groups were two to three walkers. Sometimes they were alone and the gaps had grown dramatically. It was the tail-end of it all. Almost two hours since the first runners had eclipsed that point. Faint music echoed in the distance and I could hear a subtle clap coming from behind a big tree. I looked to the left and an old lady standing on her porch, wearing a lime green sweater. She was alone and it was creepy.

Her home was a massive dark brick structure with a stone foundation. She stood there on the corner of the porch encouraging the final walkers with her claps. "Clap, clap, clap, clap" in the same tempo as the "Go, go, go, go" guy. She didn't say anything, just "clap, clap, clap, clap." The sign at the end of her driveway said, "Don't park in driveway" and she reminded me of Norman Bates' mother from Psycho (I hate that I always use that reference, but that movie depicted the creepy old mother better than anything I could ever describe with words). She was alone and I wondered what her life must be like the other 364 days of the year when she couldn't "clap, clap, clap, clap" for marathon runners that passed her home. Did she practice the clapping? Was it something she thought about while she cooked stew on her ancient stove? Did anyone hear her claps?

Then I thought, what makes me so much different than the little old lady in her green sweater? We were both inspired by 20,000 runners. We both like to observe. And we both can only absorb so much energy before we have to give some back.

posted by The Oscillator @ 8:53 AM