rm | marathon

I have almost always lived very close to the NYC Marathon course. For over 25 years of my life, in fact, I've lived, at different apartments, less than a block away from it. Like the water and the crappy subway options that's just been my life.

When I was little my parents always got us up to go watch the marathoners come up First. Those days, the 70s and 80s remain the age of great sportsmen in my mind: from tennis to basketball to the marathon, everything was legends and my parents made sure I saw all of them.

When I found out that everyone got a medal at the end, and one of those space blanket things, I decided I wanted to run the marathon too, because I was a kid who loved the bright shiny, who loved awards, like a crow with low self-esteem. But I knew the marathon, in all its symbollic glory both of my city and my ancient obsessios wasn't for me. It was too hard. I could sprint and I could walk a long long way, but not much else. For a long time, and to varying degrees, I had thought to walk it. So it would take me into the night to finish, and I could be embarassed, crowds gone except for those around a news story that actually had a reason to take that long. But I thought I didn't care, because I'd have my bright shiny and I'd have done a thing from history and myth. It wouldn't be much different from gym class anyway; people were always waiting on me. But I wasn't allowed to give up and just walk off the route of our exercises. Then I'd get in trouble. And it didn't seem most of the time like that was about teaching me not to be a quitter but about humiliating me for having the audacity to be slow, to fail in a way that required others to focus more attention on me than I ostensibly deserved.

I've still gone to the Marathon almost every year though. Even years I didn't know I lived right by it (that happened in Brooklyn a few times, I stumbled out to get groceries or do laundry and hello marathon!). It's only been in the last few years that I've realized this is something I won't die having done. That's a little weird for me, not because I care that much, but because I live like I'm twenty and I've got two hundred years ahead of me, but the marathon I've surrendered.

There's a system, when you live where I do. You watch on TV until the runners come off the 59th street bridge, then you throw on clothes and run down stairs. It's not much of a system, but it works and you don't get too cold. O ryou can listen for the copters. Luckily, I live to the west of the route here, not the east, meaning I can get to dance class without too much hassle too later.

I'll see runners on the subway with their friends and I'll sort of look and smile and look away and feel embarrased that because of my schedule I'll be in work out clothes too.