2008 Woodie Awards
Marathon proves inspirational for very close friends
Elizabeth Miller
Issue date: 10/30/07 Section: OpEd Page
I have a friend who I frequently ask about topic ideas for my columns. Without fail, he always responds, "Write about me." To which I always respond, without fail, "Then do something worth writing about." This isn't to say he hasn't tried. He has. But aside from stealing a few house signs and making some hilarious alcohol-induced decisions, he hasn't really had any column-worthy experiences.
I keep telling him that public nudity and assault would most certainly get him some ink space-at very least on the Police Beats. But he isn't too keen on either of those.
When this same friend told me he was going to run a marathon, I smiled doubtfully and told him to go for it. It's like when I was five and I told my parents I wanted to be Miss America when I grew up. They just sort of smiled and said, "Sure, sweetie. You can do anything you want." To me, a marathon is often like one of those things.
People say it's on their list of life goals because it sounds good. To do something just to say you did it. It sounds noble and ambitious, requiring only the most determined individuals. Like when people say they want to climb Mount Everest. And usually my response is something along the lines of, "Right. Good luck with that." With all due respect, my expectation is not that people actually follow through with those things.
But this friend actually set to training for this marathon thing.
A couple of months went by and he was still going strong. Being the encouraging friend I am, I often reminded him that he was crazy. Only crazy people run 26.2 miles for fun. I not-so-subtly would suggest he change his goal to one that wouldn't ruin his knees, but he didn't listen.
I'm glad he didn't.
Two weekends ago, I went to Columbus to watch my friend in the Columbus Marathon. I piled into his family's van as we navigated around the city to see him at miles seven, 14, 23 and 26. I watched as the herds of runners filed past us bystanders on the street-panting, sweating, some chatting, some smiling. I saw little kids with signs saying "Go Mommy!" and T-shirts reading "In loving memory of Joe."
I keep telling him that public nudity and assault would most certainly get him some ink space-at very least on the Police Beats. But he isn't too keen on either of those.
When this same friend told me he was going to run a marathon, I smiled doubtfully and told him to go for it. It's like when I was five and I told my parents I wanted to be Miss America when I grew up. They just sort of smiled and said, "Sure, sweetie. You can do anything you want." To me, a marathon is often like one of those things.
People say it's on their list of life goals because it sounds good. To do something just to say you did it. It sounds noble and ambitious, requiring only the most determined individuals. Like when people say they want to climb Mount Everest. And usually my response is something along the lines of, "Right. Good luck with that." With all due respect, my expectation is not that people actually follow through with those things.
But this friend actually set to training for this marathon thing.
A couple of months went by and he was still going strong. Being the encouraging friend I am, I often reminded him that he was crazy. Only crazy people run 26.2 miles for fun. I not-so-subtly would suggest he change his goal to one that wouldn't ruin his knees, but he didn't listen.
I'm glad he didn't.
Two weekends ago, I went to Columbus to watch my friend in the Columbus Marathon. I piled into his family's van as we navigated around the city to see him at miles seven, 14, 23 and 26. I watched as the herds of runners filed past us bystanders on the street-panting, sweating, some chatting, some smiling. I saw little kids with signs saying "Go Mommy!" and T-shirts reading "In loving memory of Joe."
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