Run, David, Run

Just as Sauron’s ring makes the wearer power mad, running marathons tends to make narcissists of us all. At the risk of using too many first person pronouns, I am going to allude in my column this week to the 15 times I have failed to qualify to run the Boston Marathon. Or as Thomas Edison said about inventing the light bulb, “I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.” I promise, as usual, that if you’ll bear with me to the end of the page, I’ll make a point about raising healthy children.

In 1980, I failed to qualify for the Boston Marathon by 19 minutes. In those days, the qualifying time was two hours and 50 minutes. Three decades later, in May of this year, I failed to qualify for the 15th time-this time I was 41 minutes off the mark.

The mark had moved, mind you. As a member of the 55 to 59 age group, I am now allowed three hours and 40 minutes to cover the 26.2 miles. But as it turns out, there’s a reason the Boston Athletic Association gives you more time as you get older. Readers of my generation will know exactly what that reason is. Younger readers will find out. Five years ago when I needed to run three hours and 35 minutes, I fell short by only 97 seconds. I agree with Edison: I have not failed to qualify for the Boston Marathon. I’ve just found 15 ways not to.

Or as Chico Marx explained in “A Night at the Opera:” “So now I tell you how we fly to America. The first time-a we start-a, we get-a half way across when we run out of gasoline and we gotta go back. Then I take-a twice as much-a gasoline. This time we were just about to land, maybe three feet, when what do you think? We run out of gasoline again. And back we go again and get-a more gas. This time I take-a plenty gas. Wella we getta half way over … when what do you thinka happen? We forgota the airplane.”

Chico’s trip is a logistical syllogism compared to my system of picking marathons, so I’ll skip over nutrition, training, miles per week, the long run, speed work, the course (Note: you would think downhill would be easier; you would be wrong) and the rest of the factors that influence performance on race day and get straight to Mile 20, the “half way point,” as my buddy Daniel calls it. As sparks, smoke, and little bursts of flame spew from our legs and grinding sounds emanate from our knees at the 20 mile point, Daniel whispers, “Ah. The race begins now.” Hit the wall? Please. As anyone who has ever hit the wall knows, we wish it were only a wall. Typically, we hit a continent.

“A man’s reach should exceed his grasp or what’s a heaven for” suggested Robret Browning. But if a man reaches for the stars incessantly, he may be disappointed to learn that 22,926,149,259,000 miles-the distance to our nearest celestial neighbor-does significantly exceed the reach of his arms-no matter how consistently he does his stretching exercises.

If I qualify to run Boston, I will join a select group of athletes including:

Americans Alberto Salazar and four time winner, Bill Rodgers, my heroes when I started running in the 70s.

Kenyan Patrick Mutai, who, at 2:03:02 has completed 26.2 miles faster than anyone in the history of the Planet Earth. Ever.

Lelisa Benti, this year’s winner. Who gave his medal back to the City of Boston to commemorate the victims of the bombing.

I am motivated to join this group. I train hard. I know what time I need to run. (It will come as no surprise to my old math students that I memorized the “8:11 tables” when I needed to run a 26.2 miles at 8 minutes, 11 seconds each.) In short, I know what I need to do.

I just haven’t done it yet.

It’s the same with your kids: they know that you would prefer that they bring home report cards filled with A grades. They know that your desires include a child who is first in her class. The following horrible joke notwithstanding, yelling at your kids is seldom effective in improving their gpa’s.

Mr. Gallagher: “How did you get that piano up the stairs?”

Mr. Shean: “We tied the piano to the cat.”

Mr. Gallagher: “The cat? A cat can’t pull a piano up a flight of stairs!”

Mr. Shean: “We used a whip.”

Parents have been asking me ever since I started teaching in the late 1970s. “How do I motivate my child?” Frequently the unspoken answer is, “She’s doing the best she can with the gifts she has. If she could work harder, study more, be more organized, run faster, jump higher, get better grades then she would.”

It’s hurtful and harmful to judge your child in comparison to others. There is something to be said for doing the best you can, studying to the best of your ability, running as hard as you can. To allow for content children, celebrate their attitude and motivation more than their place value.

In a few months, I’ll make my 16th attempt to qualify for the Boston Marathon. On that day, I’ll run as fast as I can for as long as I can. Maybe I’ll cough up half a lung, maybe I’ll spit blood. Maybe I’ll qualify for the first time and maybe I’ll fail to qualify for the 16th time. Either way, at the end of 26.2, I’ll be satisfied with the result, knowing that I did all I could do on that day.

I’ll let you know how it goes.