No Occasion Needed

Normally I will not delve too much into my personal athletic adventures. For one, I really don't have that many. Two, there's nothing really interesting about jogging for a long time or getting eliminated in the semifinals of intramural hoops or shooting a 109 for 18 holes of golf, regular or miniature. Third, the entry would probably on last four sentences.

This past weekend, though, was very special - one that I will never forget and one that I never imagine would unfold like it did:

In my mind, it makes sense to create multiple occasions to see family and friends. I could never just go for a visit and spend some time relaxing with people I know. It's much more efficient to do two or more things on a visit. This weekend was the Pittsburgh Marathon - back from a six year hiatus due to budget cuts and a lack of a major sponsor. I had been tracking this for about two years, whether or not the race would actually come to fruition and once it opened, I was on top of the registration.

The problem, if there was one, was racing two marathons so close together. The Boston Marathon was run on April 20th and that would more than likely take a toll on my feet. After about five minutes of thinking, I knew that I would not want to let this opportunity pass me by, especially since I didn't know if this was a one-and-done for the race. And NOW, I have a great reason to see the family. Again, this is all logical thinking to me.

The Dick's Sporting Goods Pittsburgh Marathon was on Sunday, May 3rd - start time 7:30AM. I woke-up around 6AM, had a glass of water and hopped in the car with Dad to the start. This is not early for my dad, even for a Sunday, because his tee time on the links is normally around 7:30AM.

I started the jog and a moderate pace and began hoping my legs wouldn't collapse at the end of the first mile from neglect, fatigue, wind, or a stray dog. As I passed the checkpoint for Mile 2, I turned the corner and spotted Dad, standing with a casual smile, waving. I yell out, "Did Mammaw make it?" He points to his left and there, with my mom, Christa, and Patty all cheering, is Mammaw - the greatest grandmother anyone in the world could have. I did not know if Mammaw would even make the race, even though it was a strong request of hers. We didn't know how much she'd be able to walk with the marathon crowds or parking dilemmas. But leave it to Dad, who found a spot for her to only have to travel about five yards.

When I passed my family, I turned back around after a block to give Mammaw one last wave. She still had her eyes fixed on me, waving back with her right hand accompanied the biggest smile anyone could spot. It was easily one of the proudest moments of my life and for the rest of the race, she would be in the back of my mind, the image of her basking in being able to say she watched her grandson run in her hometown marathon.

The cheering pockets didn't stop there. Around mile 5 - Watts' parents - who have been a big part of my life since my teens, were at a corner snapping photos of me jogging along the roads. After mile six, my cousin Lorenzo - all 5.5 years of him, galloped onto the course to give me a high-five with Kimmy (Zo's mom and my first cousin) laughing.

It might have been a coincidence, but the toughest parts of the course came between miles 8-15. We had to cross two of the three bridges on the course and the uphill climb to the University of Pittsburgh was pretty tough even if you were in shape. But then at Mile 15, the Majericks - or Uncle Steve and Aunt Phyllis as we call them, were there. Camped out since 7AM, the two of them looked so relieved that I had made it this far. Up to Mile 18, there were the Watts again, clapping and taking shots in the rain to help push me forward. Up the road I spotted Dad standing next to my pal Billy Stewart and across the street was Patty, Mom and Christa - on the road urging me to trudge on - thrilled they did not miss me amidst their own travels. As I looped around the bend, the Watts yelled one final time after the 19th mile checkpoint. A few blocks further was Mr. Ron Frank - one of my greatest bosses, coaches, teachers, and mentors I had growing up. Close to Mile 23 was Mrs. Hastings and Maria, friends that I grew up with since fourth grade, yelling my name and encouraging me to finish strong.

When I got the 24th mile, I was in quite a world of hurt and running low on steam. The 24th to the 25 mile was straight downhill and I think the sharp slope hurt more than the uphill churn as I was forced to move my muscles a little quicker. There were not a lot of runners around me and at the 25th mile mark, Dad was standing without much company. He yelled, "You all right?"

I calmly said, "Yeah - I'll be OK - thanks - you going to the finish?"

"Yea - I'll see you there." I didn't know how he was going to drive around the crowds and street closures, but if anyone could pull it off, it's him. From there, I trudged through the 26th mile and towards the finish to the largest gathering of people the city offered. As I reached the tape, I spotted Mom, with camera in hand, perched on top of something that allowed her to tower over the crowds. I crossed the finish, walked a few paces looked for the nearest cup of water - I sure was thirsty.

Now if you have never run a marathon or done some type of exhausting exercise, once you stop, it's difficult for your body to flick the ON switch again, especially if your effort exceeds your preparation. Patty knows this drill better than anyone and when she found me at the finish, she made sure I had mostly coherent thoughts, got me something to eat, and helped me get my sweats on. She knew I was in a ton of agony but that it would subside and that looking weak and pathetic was not an option. Christa retrieved my bag, Dad got the car, and Mom took my medal and drinks, all while Patty made sure I didn't roll into the gutter. Everyone had a role to play - almost like and EMT crisis drill.

The day continued with all of us going to brunch and seeing Robby and Liz. Mr. Watts had already developed the photos he shot and dropped them off at our house. Uncle Steve came over to see how I was doing and we talked about the race and how he was holding up. Dinner that night was at Mammaw's and we ate like kings. Lorenzo wanted to play soccer after dessert and who could say NO to him.

And once night came, I could reflect on all of it. I FEEL like the luckiest person in the world. Dad gave up his day of golf to round-up the family and maneuver through the Pittsburgh traffic. Mom made me special noodles and sauce and made special grocery round. Christa came with me to expo to get my packet and vowed that she would do the race next year with me. Patty sacrificed her weekend, traveling from Arlington to make sure I didn't injure myself and that I ate enough. My cousins, my family members, my friends, my grandmother were all part of what would have been just another Sunday in the clouds.

I realize, too, that I don't need an occasion to come to see the people that made me who I am today. Family is more than a Thanksgiving visit or card in the mail or the people that lived in your house growing up. I might not have gotten my best time, but none of that mattered. The pride each person cheering for me felt while I was on the roads was powerful and palpable. Understanding the happiness that comes with representing the people you love and love you in return is invaluable and I am very grateful to have the family that I do.