I have received many random acts of kindness in my life, but none have been more significant than when running. Distance running is a brutal sport that pushes the athlete to his very limits. Whenever I race a distance of twenty-six miles, I exhaust every ounce of energy I have. Yet, athletes face more challenges than just the extremes of a given race. To train at the level necessary to excel in this sport injures many athletes. Running mile after mile, day after day, punishes the legs and body with multiplied effects.
For years, I had attempted to train so that I could complete a marathon, but I always ended up injured. Attempt after attempt, strained hip, knee pain, tendonitis, or simple over-training would sideline me. At last, frustrated and despairing, I joined a running club and met Austin. Austin was a veteran runner who had completed numerous marathons. When I started through the club training program, just as in my attempts before, I injured myself again. This time it was a case of tendonitis in my lower legs. During one of our club training runs, Austin noticed that I was favoring the injured leg. Pulling me aside, he asked me what was wrong. After I described the injury for him, he smiled.
“A simple fix.” His easy instructions worked like a magic wand and I completed my first marathon a few weeks later.
Over a year later, I received yet another random act of kindness while competing in my third marathon. Even though I had undergone surgery just six months earlier, I wanted to run fast enough to qualify for the Boston Marathon. The oldest and most prestigious of distance races in the world, the Boston Marathon only allows runners who have run qualifying times to participate. For me, the time to beat was 3:15. Seventeen miles into the race I felt great and thought I could easily reach my goal time. Then it happened as in nearly every marathon. I felt fatigue and doubt assail me like a wall of bricks blocking my path. My legs all of a sudden felt like lead. I couldn’t imagine running further. I turned a corner and was then running up a slight hill and into the wind. Eight more miles to go! My mind and body screamed, “No more!” I wanted to rest; lie down on the street and sleep. Then another runner came along beside me. He wasn’t alone. Though I was somewhat delirious with fatigue I could see that this group of three or four runners were in a makeshift “V” formation, breaking through the wind.
“Tuck in behind me,” he said.
“Huh?” I wasn’t sure what he meant.
“Tuck in. We will take you in,” he instructed again. I moved over within this group and the struggle disappeared. The wind no longer bothered me in the pocket they created and the fatigue and doubt went away as quickly as it had come. I now knew I just needed to stay with them. They carried me in this fashion until mile twenty-four when I could no longer stay with them. Their gift had been sufficient though. I ended up finishing with a time of 3:00:14; I had smashed the qualifying time standard by almost fifteen minutes. I never saw those guys again but I will never forget their kind act.
Far from unusual, random acts of kindness such as these take place all the time in the sport of long distance running. The most commonly heard phrases in a road race are “Good job!” or “You are doing great!”
In fact, when struggling the last couple of miles in my most recent marathon, a fellow runner next to me said, “I will struggle with you! We can do this!” These random acts of kindness from other runners make each finish and each victory possible.
