The marthon's lessons aren't always taught in the race.
Mine came about 20 minutes after crossing the finish line in Heinz Field May 4, marking my return to the challenge of 26.2 miles after an almost 20-year layoff.
Can't teach an old dog new tricks⢠The marathon always wins on that bet. More about that, though, later in this column.
The day was magical on many levels -- weather, enthusiasm, colorful and memorable moments -- for participants and spectators.
If anyone wants a quick overview on the marathon's appeal, why so many are drawn to it as runners or in the vital role of encouragers along the route, they would do well to study the 2003 edition of the Pittsburgh Marathon.
On a day that everything seems to be in sync, as it seemed to be in Pittsburgh, the marathon has to be one of the most remarkable events in sport.
Consider, for example, the logistics -- personal and communal -- of preparing for and staging an endeavor of this size and scope: the months of training for participants, of planning for organizers.
There's the daunting task of moving thousands of people 26.2 miles as safely and efficiently as possible, the recruiting of volunteers and others to hand out water and sports drinks, of ham radio operators to relay messages, of personnel to close streets, the erection and staffing of medical tents (a subject now close to my heart) and so much more.
From a participant's perspective, what a privilege it is to be able to take over a city's streets for several hours, to see a community and its neighborhoods and people unfold mile by mile, to share for a time its music, its aromas, its enthusiasm.
A reason for every runner
For most, a marathon is run against yourself, for your own reasons. Ultimately, even in the midst of a throng, you are running alone. The drama is not so much taking place in your legs and feet, but in your mind.
Each participant must find his motivation for running what is roughly the distance between Freeport and Pittsburgh.
I was blessed with several "carrots" to keep me in motion -- the personal challenge after two decades and too many pounds gained, before losing them again, to see whether I still could go the distance; the blessing of being able to experience this with my daughter, Jamie Donaldson, who flew in from Denver for her marathon debut; and to raise awareness and funds for the Alle-Kiski Learning Center.
I was blessed, too, as were my fellow runners, by the especially giving nature of the crowd that lovely day. The average spectator probably does not realize how much of an impact he can make on the psyche of a passing runner with cheering and encouragement.
Even in poverty-stricken neighborhoods, the people gave what they had -- water, fruit, a high-five. One minister had his enthusiastic Sunday School class out on the curb greeting runners.
My daughter recalled aspectator somewhere along the 18-mile mark who, trying to lift weary spirits, brightened her and others with the comment, "You've come all this way just to give me a smile."
And there was an elderly lady sitting in her wheelchair squeezing a bicycle horn as her way of saying, "You can do it."
Deep into the race, I saw a sign that served as a reality check for me the remaining eight or nine miles: "Pain is temporary, pride is forever." At the finish line, I had the pleasure of being able to thank the woman who was holding it.
Mental scrapbooks
Everyone will have a mental scrapbook of such memories that will last forever.
Highlights⢠One came for me in what is usually, for me and many, the most demanding part of the marathon: the 20-mile mark.
As I reached that point, where they say the marathon really begins, my cell phone rang, my wife, Joanie, telling me that my daughter had just crossed the finish line. And, as a bonus, her time of 3:29:09 had qualified her for the prestigious Boston Marathon.
It's difficult to describe the joy of that moment, having watched Jamie fall in love with running as a child and then being part of the same event in which she, at 28, realized her long held dream to complete a 26.2 miler.
That's all the re-energizing that I needed, as I embraced the last six miles with a confidence that I have not known in my running life, actually increasing my speed, knowing that I would finish.
It would not be the fastest marathon of my life -- 4:50 and change -- but it could have been the strongest of my 11 marathons, in terms of feeling in control the whole way.
And the very best moment of that day for me was to find Jamie, after having completed her race, waiting for me at the Clemente Bridge, mile 25, to escort me to the finish line and ensure that I would break five hours. Only a parent perhaps can really know what that feeling is like.
Cue John Mellencamp
As Jamie led me to the entrance tunnel of Heinz Field, I also knew that this, without any doubt, thanks to her and the support of my wife, was one of the very best moments of my life, in or out of running shoes.
Father's Day had arrived more than a month early, and I'll never need another gift.
Even the four hours that followed that afternoon didn't change that. That's when I fainted for the first time in my life -- 20 minutes after completing the race.
Apparently I did not cool down properly, stopping briefly to rest against a light pole when I should have kept walking to let the blood circulate the way it is supposed to do. I keeled over, half-eaten banana in hand, outside Heinz Field, my head bouncing twice against the concrete.
Luckily, it happened almost directly outside the medical tent. I was scooped up within seconds by the medical team and given the first of what would be that day almost four bags of intraveneous fluids, none of which, unfortunately, contained beer.
Suddenly, with my concerned family watching, the joke I had been making all week about throwing a party in the IV ward after the marathon didn't seem so funny.
The head scan, EKG and other tests at the nearby hospital emergency room, to which I was transferred as a precaution, were not a lot of yucks either.
But the staff was great and the decidedly hip doctor who checked me wrote three of my favorite words on my release form: "Eat big steak."
I did, that very night, and, being ever so health conscious, continued my fluid replacement at my favorite sports bar with my favorite family.
In the words of John Mellencamp, it still was one of the best days of my life.
