In the Long Run

I’m doing another marathon run on Monday, my fourth in as many years. Each year it’s daunting and nerve-wracking, an odd cocktail of stage freight and anticipatory pain with a base of uncertainty.

Only distance runners can tell you the particular dread of having a race coming up, that sense of knowing that you soon you’ll be uncomfortably confronted with yourself. While you’re out there, there’s plenty of time to ponder what led you to such a course, and plenty of brainstorming about why you might decide to never do it again.

But distance runners will also tell you that few sensations compare to the profound relief of finishing, of resting your hands on your knees, and relishing in the sweet sensation of knowing there is no further left to go. Every time, I remember how good it feels to walk.