![]() |
My dad and I after a Pirates game - cool dudes |
People often ask
me why I run marathons. It’s a fairly unique hobby that I have, and most of my
friends and colleagues have never even considered participating in one. They
always want to know what is appealing to me about running 26.2 miles. I answer:
I run because I can.
I don't run because I love it, lord knows that's not the reason. Many days I have to talk myself into completing each and every mile. I have to fight the urge to quit and do something I’d prefer, but I keep going. Love would not be the word I use to describe my relationship with running; it would be more like tolerate.
I don't run because I'm good at it. If you were to look at the top finishers in the newspaper on Monday morning, I'd be somewhere at the bottom of the article with Thelma the 70 year old grandmother. It's true, I get passed by old ladies by mile 20 and while this is a great tribute to "Thelma", it's terribly humbling to Matt the 28 year old runner.
I run because I can.
Steve Prefontaine said "to give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift". I'm able to run long distances (somehow), so I should. Not everyone is lucky enough to experience running a marathon - or sing, or paint. But if you can, you should; gifts are to be cherished. If you have a family, you should spend time with them, and if you have something, you should not take it for granted. In life, nothing is promised.
My dad always told us, "drive slow" before we left the house. To him, it was just sound advice for the operation of a motor vehicle. To us, it always meant more. It meant enjoy the moment you're in. Often times in the marathon of life, we zone out , miss the moment, and focus too much on the finish lines. It's important to enjoy each step of each mile because you don't know what you could be missing. Sure, sometimes you're passing the proverbial porta-potties, but often times there is something more out there to notice, and it's a shame if you don't.
I don't run because I love it, lord knows that's not the reason. Many days I have to talk myself into completing each and every mile. I have to fight the urge to quit and do something I’d prefer, but I keep going. Love would not be the word I use to describe my relationship with running; it would be more like tolerate.
I don't run because I'm good at it. If you were to look at the top finishers in the newspaper on Monday morning, I'd be somewhere at the bottom of the article with Thelma the 70 year old grandmother. It's true, I get passed by old ladies by mile 20 and while this is a great tribute to "Thelma", it's terribly humbling to Matt the 28 year old runner.
I run because I can.
Steve Prefontaine said "to give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift". I'm able to run long distances (somehow), so I should. Not everyone is lucky enough to experience running a marathon - or sing, or paint. But if you can, you should; gifts are to be cherished. If you have a family, you should spend time with them, and if you have something, you should not take it for granted. In life, nothing is promised.
My dad always told us, "drive slow" before we left the house. To him, it was just sound advice for the operation of a motor vehicle. To us, it always meant more. It meant enjoy the moment you're in. Often times in the marathon of life, we zone out , miss the moment, and focus too much on the finish lines. It's important to enjoy each step of each mile because you don't know what you could be missing. Sure, sometimes you're passing the proverbial porta-potties, but often times there is something more out there to notice, and it's a shame if you don't.
![]() |
Cousin Jill with me at the finish line in Chicago |
In June 2009, my dad
was diagnosed with cancer, so when I ran the Chicago Marathon on October 11,
2009, I did it in his honor. We never know when running is no longer possible,
and to that point, when anything is no longer possible for us. I ran that race
because I could, and because he, like so many others suffering from disease,
could not. Making the most of what life has given me is a lesson that I will
always carry with me thanks to my father. This Sunday at the Jersey Shore Half Marathon, I will run in his memory. Sometimes it means running a
marathon, other times it means taking a chance on graduate school and learning
new things. Whatever my next adventure is, I’ll be sure to “drive slow”. I’ve
learned its okay that I run that way too.
Drive Slow.
Drive Slow.
![]() |
Cousin Chris knows what's up |