Unrequited
2019 Boston Marathon Completed - Not Finished
Dislodged from my perch of focus,
Purposeful contentment now unhinged.
I am loose, a shooting slab of shale
Racing down the mountainside
Unrelentingly fast, barely able to
Grasp, as I try, unsuccessfully, to shake off
The impending, disastrous,
Crash and burn that lies ahead.
The day, the race, broken into pieces and
Scattered among the masses.
Drifting between gaps of hope and pride,
I’m wandering, then wondering,
The experience not yet fully absorbed.
Gathering thoughts form slowly,
Like bubbled clouds before a storm.
Shaping and reshaping images and sounds, they
Blur together into a hazy recollection of the
Day that had been so well planned,
Revamped, and detailed even better, for an
Outcome that never came close to fruition.
Long months spent courting a marathon,
The most serious of long-distance relationships,
With gifts I earned and gave without hesitation;
Miles like I have never been able to offer,
Surely bringing my goal within reach.
Effort days filled the motivation tank with
Optimism, no matter the outcome.
Easy days provided time for reflection on
The journey that is distance training.
Tempo runs, at surprisingly strong paces,
Were a kiss on the cheek, enough to
Keep me going until my head or
Heart asked for another to stay the course,
Stoking the fire for another long-run weekend and
Enhancing the vision of a successful race day experience.
Success is not guaranteed, and yet:
I invest miles in the bank with earnest.
I stay focused to remain on task.
I don’t waiver and stick to the plan.
I re-commit to the goal daily.
One lap, one mile, one workout at a time,
Training shapes my days and owns my heart, while
Providing much needed confidence as I
Stretch my goals and expand my boundaries,
Confirming to my inner self I am ready.
Pouring myself into training like
Wine into a cask, knowing time spent,
Albeit in the dark and on my own, is
Soaking me with hope, health and humility.
My eyes see the physical progress,
My heart feels the emotional progress,
My mind understands the opportunity of
This race day fitness I must maximize.
Weeks before race day, I stumble mentally,
Not knowing, not feeling it will all come together.
As the race of my dream approaches, I look for guidance.
Desire turns to ask Honesty for the answer;
Have I done all that I can?
Race day morning held no surprises;
Car ride, train ride, bus ride, follow the herd.
The pre-race gathering spot is jammed, so many
Runners at the ready and hungry to start.
Yet I am alone on this day, a solo marathoner
Among the tens of thousands set to
Run from Hopkinton to Boston.
Crossing the start line, most famous of all,
GPS watch beeps to life, it’s go time!
Thoughts focused on my goal, imprinted into
My brain for months, I know what I have to do.
Pacing, so much concern about pacing.
I track my early speed, reeling in the
Tendency to bank precious seconds while
Rolling through the downhill sections.
Runners everywhere, pulsating energy
Each step, each swing of their arms.
Tucked together on a two-lane road,
Fluid form of runners bodies bobbing,
Brings the Road to life in vivid color,
Trimmed at the edges with spectators clamoring with cheers!
This energy pulls the runners, taunting them to
Run faster, run harder, too early in the race.
Falling prey to the well-meaning fans will only
Bring runners pain and suffering later in the race.
For now, I ignore the encouragement.
Later on, my mind will beg for every bit of
Support the spectators will throw my way.
As I settle into pace, I think only of
Sticking to the plan, of proper execution.
Nothing else invades my thinking, not the gentle uphills
So early in the race that bandit pieces of my allotted time.
Not the silent assassins that crept into the race,
Cloaked in diversion before I knew they were even a factor.
Overt in its simplicity, covert among my thoughts,
Heat and Humidity blanketed the course with an
Invisible fog that would pull double duty.
Humidity sucking the moisture out of my body.
Heat cooking my inside from the outside.
My thoughts had been diverted for miles,
So much to consider on marathon day.
The sunny, sticky, assault by Heat and Humidity
Hit me at mile 8, but did not register it’s full
Effect until mile 16, just before the hills of Newton.
I am wounded, but not done.
The hills, I tell myself, just get through the hills.
The battle is on, and I reason to myself,
Do not overextend any further,
Red line and there will be no finish line.
Thoughts of a DNF float through my head, and serious,
Consideration is knocking on the door of options,
Asking for a decision, which is quickly rejected.
Today will not be pretty, but today I will finish.
Pace slows, then downshifts again, I am
Relegated to walking portions of the hills.
Shivers, as if chilled on a winter day,
Come and go, trading place with radiant heat
Bouncing off the pavement, and the constant
Feeling of running inside a greenhouse.
Signals alerting me my body is in overdrive trying to
Cool off, to regulate, to inform my mind
Something is not right.
Aid-station to aid-station is my strategy to survive.
I accept my fate and peel away pride all the way
Down to my most humble running self.
Volunteers are my First-Responders,
Handing me cups of elixir to refresh my low levels and
Keep the motor running, their encouragement as
Important as the carbs and electrolytes I gulp down.
Watering my head with a full cup of water, at times
So cold it takes my breath away. I pour a second on
My neck and back, sometimes a third upon my quads.
Passing runners, being passed my many, I know the
Fate of others is also tough, some much worse off.
I pray for myself, I pray for them, I pray to get to the finish.
Paying homage to the course, the race, the history
That is Boston, I resolve to make it up Heartbreak Hill
Without a stop. It is slow, it is painful, it is accomplished!
I am encouraged, my spirit is lifted, and the downhill that
Follows brings me new hope that the day will see me
Cross the line I have come to honor. I begin to ride the
Emotional roller-coaster that is a combination of
Gratefulness, Happiness, Joy and Thanks. And
Pain, lots of pain to remind me life can change in an instant.
Along the remainder of the course, the
Runners mood is one of high anticipation.
Knowing the finish line is near, participants and
Spectators sense the coming excitement of
Right on Hereford, Left on Boylston.
You see those that can, begin to pick up their pace,
Others show a resolve not to slow down, to stay steady.
Spectators are more encouraging now than ever, and
There is more to come!
At the sighting of the Citgo sign, hearts are lifted, even mine!
I cross a street patterned with cobblestone and nearly
Twist my ankle not more than a mile and a half from the finish.
Slowing, re-grouping, I steady myself and draw upon the crowd
For support. They do not let me down, they are incredible.
Under the blue one-mile overpass, Boston Strong in bold gold.
I am so close, I am soaking up the last miles as if I may never be back.
I turn to the crowd as I come up from the last underpass, and
Show my B.A.A. 5k shirt, it’s logo universally known.
They cheer for me and I am lifted again, I am going to do this!
As I turn right on Hereford, the buildings guide runners to the
Hallowed left on Boylston, and the sidewalks are packed with
The best race fans I have ever encountered.
Goosebumps run up and down my arms, I am floating now,
Ready for the finish I look around and take in the moment.
Rounding the corner, onto Boylston, I feel as if in a dream.
Cheers from the thousands of spectators bounce from side to side,
Historical buildings taking in another year of Boston Marathon finishers
Reverberating the new and old spirits that have passed this way before.
The rush is intoxicating, I am on a runners high like no other.
I slow my pace, I let my mind imprint these moments to savor another day.
To bring me back to this exact moment, this euphoria that is Boston on Boylston.
Nearly to the finish, I look for the monument.
2013 will forever live and Never be forgotten.
I slow to a walk as I pass the monument, hand over my heart.
In 2012, I was a week away from running Boston in 2013, I wonder,
Would my family have been standing there that day?
Once again on my way, emotions get the best of me.
Tears form at the edges of my eyes, the glossy view even
More overwhelming, more meaningful.
Over the line and I stop as soon as possible, not a step extra today.
Grateful, thankful, I know there were many
Lessons taught to me this day, and I know
I will be better for the experience, however it
Will take many weeks to fully appreciate the race,
The battle, the opportunity to know defeat and
Rise again to the challenge that is the Marathon.
Brian James Siddons
2019 Boston Marathon
from "Free As The Wind"
Clarity and focus, perfect partners,
Fully engaged for another session.
Energized by the warmth of
Solar rays upon my skin.
Motivation filling my heart
As I envision reaching goals
So recently out of my grasp.
This is my favorite time,
Morning dawn or evening set,
The golden hour of the day.
All other pieces of life lay aside,
For the moment, of no matter to me.
I’m lost within the run, and yet,
I find my true self,
Each and every time.
from "An Unexpected Running Experience: The 2017 Lake Wobegon Trail Marathon"
Marathon training is a love affair with the running life. We run with tunnel vision, looking the only direction we can, forward, to the light of race day. The blinders we proudly wear keep us safe from distractions that would otherwise impede the progress we desire, that of inching closer to the escape hatch known as the starting line. We plan, we adjust, we sacrifice, we prepare. We chart our course like a salty ship captain returning to a cluster of islands known for coral reefs, rough seas and unexpected swells. When we break through the trials of training and into the light, race day can be its own master.
The best laid plans may need to be discarded when the winds of marathon day rise. Some days we must go where the breeze takes us, for to battle the wind is akin to fighting an invisible enemy you’d never see attack or regroup. You will be left flailing until you fall, overcome by your inability to admit this particular day is not for winning, but for surviving. And sometimes, if you are lucky, I mean really lucky, you are presented with a life changing experience.
from "Upon My Return to Running"
Upon my return to running.
Savoring each stride, this
Delicious dance of
Motion and movement melds
Physical effort and
Soulful energy into such a
Contained excitement
I can barely restrain myself.
Upon my return to running.
My heart bursts forth short
Twinges of joy.
My legs fire signals of
Refreshed muscles to my brain.
My lungs carry the load, allowing
Potential hours-long runs
To nestle in my thoughts.
