Another Good Way to Spend Your Sunday

This past Sunday offered a slew of athletic competitions for consumption, all of which had a lot of pride on the line.

The Cowboys rode into Green Bay and won at Lambeau for the first time in history on Sunday Night Football. The Yankees played the final baseball game at Yankee Stadium, beating the Orioles and ending the ballparks life as it had begun: with a victory. And some good 'ol boys on the United States team golfed their way past some talented yet, um, stuffy Europeans for the first Ryder Cup for the Americans in nine years.

But my personal favorite event on Sunday started at 7:45 a.m., was provided only local news coverage and put serious personal pride on the podium.

The 31st annual ING Philadelphia Distance Run began at the famous "Rocky Steps," appropriate for the underdog stories in each pair sneakers. Over 16,000 enthusiastic participants entered their assigned corrals around 7:15. The various ages, sizes, shapes and experiences of the runners was apparent in the selection of running gear (my favorite was an older gentleman steadily jogging in his tan 'Older, Wiser, Sexier' oversized t-shirt, barely surpassing the kilted 'In my mind, I run like a Kenyan' guy and the guy in a chicken costume).

As race time neared, the caliber of the competition was announced by the EmCee of the event. 32 runners had run every Philly half-marathon ever put together. Kenyan Catherine Ndereba was running her first race since taking the silver medal in the women's marathon at the Beijing Olympics (she would be the second woman to finish on this day, too). Entrants in wheelchairs were sent out a few minutes before the throngs of foot-travelers to a thunderous applause, beginning the series of memories of personal triumphs.

I stood underneath the start line banner, waiting for my running all-star to come through from the 16th corral. Before he reached me, I watched thousands upon thousands of enthusiastic runners pass.

Many had hi-tech moisture-wicking, light-weight, bear-repellant running apparel on (I'm assuming it was bear repellant because it looked like it did everything else). But those who looked most comfortable were the teams with t-shirts supporting causes or people. Distance for Dan. Livestrong, the Tug McGraw team and numerous other groups were represented. These people were not just running for pride, but running for lives.

After I completed my initial cheerleading duties, I joined the other spectators spreading out on the course. I picked my spot at mile 4, underneath the carved stone statues marking the Benjiman Franklin Parkway. By that point, just beyond the 5K marker, those who were running for time separated themselves from those who were running for pride. I missed the race leaders - they were running four-and-a-half minute miles (crazy). But I did see the "weekend warriors," the cancer survivors, the gentlemen carrying a team flag and pushing a boy in a wheelchair, the woman pushing a stroller, the pre-work morning runners. All along the race course, bands were playing, pom-poms were shaking, cowbells were ringing (curing fevers for many who demand more cowbell) and people were supporting not just their friends and family but everyone who chose to wake up extra early on a Sunday to run 13.1 miles.

I made my way back to the finish line after consuming a much-needed cup of coffee (I am neither a runner nor a morning person). The EmCee was announcing as many finishers as he could, highlighting those who had traveled a long distance to compete or runners whose age categorized them as a baby boomer.

As people crossed the finish line, sighs of relief were heard. Faces expressed the strange combination of exhaustion and joy, achievement and pain, that only pushing ones self can create. Couples held hands across the line. People jumped to touch the banner. Some even crossed running backward (although the elevated timing line made this more of a challenge than one would think). It was exciting to see such outward celebration of accomplishment.

Thirteen point one miles is a long way to run. It takes mental focus, physical training and a lot of heart to push yourself that distance. It also takes a lot of pride.



Personal Aside: My runner finished in 2 hours, 5 minutes, and I could not be more proud.