One foot in front of the other (and the strangers who changed my life)
I am not a runner. I saw a t-shirt once that summed it up for me...
"I don't run. And if you see me running, you should run too because something is probably chasing me."
And yet, I burst into tears for the sheer joy of running.
It was Race weekend in Ottawa. More than 48,000 people registered to run the 5k, 10k, half and full marathons. The morning air was crisp, that late spring freshness that makes everything feel possible. I was walking with a friend to dance rehearsal when the air began to shift—a crackle of energy I felt before I understood it. Something in the corner of my eye, an intuition that pulled my attention across the canal. There they were: a long, steady stream of runners. I was stunned. 13,000 people. That is a lot of people running—a lot of people coming together in unison.
I gawked as I saw the long, steady stream of runners grace the side of the canal in tempo. The sheer volume of energy caused me to stop several times, to exclaim to Lorrie, "Look at that!", and to register that this was phenomenal. It made me think of the Great Migration I saw in Africa. Unified movement.
A marathon is LONG! I don't understand why anyone would choose this—judging by the wobbly legs and the red cheeks and the slightly glazed eyes, it comes with considerable effort.
But there they are. I am compelled by the simplicity of it all. In the end, it comes to putting one foot in front of the other. Cramps, dehydration, blisters, self-talk aside, it comes down to maintaining forward momentum at whatever speed you can manage. One foot in front of the other, when joined with tens of thousands of others, becomes a herd, a flock, a legion, a force.
If there were tens of thousands running, there were hundreds of thousands standing on the sidelines cheering, cow-belling, noise-making. I position myself where the marathon runners turn the corner that marks their last 5K. As they make the turn, the cheers escalate. Everyone is in it for the runners. Those of us standing on the side of the route are willing them forward… our faces are lit up, our cheers are loud and forceful and…yes, tears are welling up.
A prickle in the corner of my eye. Before I can catch it, the tears spill forward, full streams like the spring melt. I know I won't be successful in wiping them away, so I just let them run, a proud declaration of my willingness to feel my way through the world and let it touch me.
The celebration of coming together, to cheer for someone unknown to me, whose goals and motivations remain a mystery to me, whose finish time I will never know, whose passion I will never share. It is the coming together for an event greater than me, for the glory of another, that is catching my heart!
Records were set, and dreams were dashed. I leave inspired. Perhaps people run to remind themselves of what we all need to remember – we live in community, we win in community, all of us play a part in getting to the finish line and in the end, it is always, quite simply, about putting one foot in front of the other.
I carry home a willingness to connect, to be brave, to realize that we all need to be cheered on, in community, for whatever race we are running. The day-to-day race. Can we genuinely connect with the barista who has just pulled off a perfect foam or the mom who successfully distracted her toddler from tears to curiosity at what is happening outside the window, or the purple-haired senior who struts into the wine bar with her walker and whole bunch of attitude? One foot in front of the other, each of them reaching for a finish line with panache and courage.