On April 16th, 2002, I will mark my 20th anniversary of running by doing what I do most mornings. I will get up at 5AM, go for a short run, and in a small way, it will be a disappointment that I am able to do so. There is a trivial piece of me that would prefer that the act of getting out of bed that morning would be too painful, too hard, to challenging. I will fantasize that while I am lying in bed, stiff and sore, almost unable to move, I will still be reveling in the accomplishments of the day before.
But that will be the dream, not the reality.
On April 19th, 1982, three days after I ran my very first mile, I watched as perhaps the most thrilling Boston Marathon ever took place. While I watched, my legs still aching from that single first mile I had run three days earlier, I was riveted as Alberto Salazar and Dick Beardsley waged a classic battle through the hills of Newton down through Brookline into the Back Bay area of Boston. Though Beardsley pushed the pace for almost the entirety of those last nine classic miles, Salazar prevailed at the finish by 2 seconds, and won the race, as he almost always did back then.
A lot has changed over my first 20 years of running. Today, I can run a mile without having sore legs for the next week. Today, I can even run a marathon in over four hours, and not be one step ahead of the sweep vehicle. In fact, today's four hour marathon might still place me in the top half of most races. Though I have slowed more than I'd like to admit, the overall field has decelerated at a much quicker pace.
In 1982, nine of the top ten men's finishers at Boston were Americans, as well as seven of the top ten women. The following year, Americans made a clean sweep of the top 10 in both the men's and women's fields. Large purses in other marathons were enticing the International field away from Boston. But the standard quickly shifted, as the lack of sponsorship and prize money that had initially pushed the international contingent away from Boston gave way to corporate sponsorship and large purses, which lured them back. Before the end of the decade, in 1988, to be exact, there was not a single American top ten finisher in either division.
Boston has changed in other ways too, since I ran my first mile almost 20 years ago. In 1986, qualifying standards were eased, and in 1988, they were relaxed even more, putting the potential to qualify within the reach of runners like me. The question now became less one of raw talent, and more one of heart and desire. In 1996, for the historic 100th running of the race, a lottery was conducted to expand the official field and allow non-qualifiers to officially run the race. I chose to remain pure to the tradition, and did not submit an entry. Today, much to the chagrin of some, one can receive an official Boston Marathon race number by raising funds for designated charities. But there is one thing about Boston that has not changed over the years. On April 15th, 2002, the final day of my first 20 years of running, Boston will be run without me for the 20th time since I stepped out the door to jog my first mile, and then needed a week off to recover from it. Qualifying for, and running Boston would be a storybook ending to my first 20 years as a runner, and if I wrote fiction, I would be there. Perhaps if I put on life-filtering blinders and totally dedicated myself to marathon training, remained uninjured, and ran the perfect race on the perfect course on the perfect day, than MAYBE I would qualify, and be there. It would all have to be perfect.
I honestly don't know if it's just sour grapes on my part, or if Boston is truly not synonymous with running in my book. I consider myself a runner, so Boston is not the defining element. But I cringe just a little bit inside every time I am asked if I've ever run Boston. And I turn just the slightest hue of green every time I meet someone who has done the training I have been unwilling to do, and succeeded in qualifying for Boston. It's even a little bit harder to swallow when someone just assumes I've run it, because that's what every "real" runner does.
And now, as I approach my 20th anniversary of running, I look back and realize how much I have accomplished in my first 20 years. I have 20 years worth of running logs, and almost every run I've ever done since that first mile is secured within their pages. I have acquired a respectable number of medals and trophies from races where nobody else in my age group showed up. I proudly display framed copies of the articles I have had published in magazines like Runner's World and Marathon & Beyond. I am about to take over as the president of what I consider one of the best running clubs in the world. I am content with my running. But I have not qualified for Boston.
More importantly, however, as I prepare for my second 20 years of running, I am content with my life. I have a lovely wife who also just happens to be a runner. She has even qualified for, and run Boston on more than one occasion. She wins awards even when everybody shows up. She is a brilliant runner, and works hard at it.
Between us, we have three wonderful children. They aren't runners, but they each have their own special talents, and give us immeasurable joy. Our home is our castle, and it is always a warm place for anyone to enter. And I have close friends that I know will always be there for me. 20 years ago, I had none of this. About the only thing I had was running. And even in running, all I had was one wretched mile.
If I had chosen the path to Boston, who knows how different the rest of my life might have been. If I had chosen the singular focus of qualifying for Boston, perhaps I would have been successful. But perhaps, I would not have been, and either way, the cost may have been more than I would be willing to pay. Succeeding does not always translate to success. And success at one thing could result in multiple failures in other areas.
Sour grapes? Maybe. But I'm very content to start my second 20 years of running just being able to do what I've done for most of the first 20. That would include waking up at 5AM, and going out for a short run, and enjoying a well-rounded life of family, friends, and varied and diverse accomplishments that must include running, but doesn't have to include Boston. And as I get older, and qualifying times relax a bit more, Boston's 5 minute gift for entering another age group, maybe, just maybe I can outpace the Boston qualifying standard itself, and nip it at the finish line.
Just like Alberto Salazar did with Dick Beardsley, three short days after I ran my very first mile. It would be a storybook ending.
- Michael Selman
- The Roads Scholar
- Atlanta GA
- theroadsscholar@aol.com http://groups.yahoo.com/group/theroadsscholar