Tonight I went to see my cousin run for his high school in a track meet. He participated in four events, and I got there in time to see him run in three. It reminds me that despite there being track teams full of runners that in the end its only you out there, alone. By yourself. Family and friends watching from the sidelines yell encouragement, telling you to “Push It!” and “Finish!,” hoping to spur you to reach the finish line before the other handful of guys also punishing their lungs on the paved and smooth pavement lining the grassy football or soccer practice field.
It also reminds me of movies such as The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner and Chariots of Fire, films that equally celebrate and depict the blood, sweat and tears that goes into pumping ones’ legs and feeling the burning of their lungs as they strive for glory and victory. I’m a bit in awe at the dedication that being a runner takes, and people at times do not take that into account. Being a pure athlete is a strenuous job, a task that goes above what too many (myself included) are willing to do. For those who respond to that call and like my dad continue to push themselves on whatever track they can find, its a fine mix of dedication and insanity.