Prelude

At thirty-eight, I ran the first of my six completed Marathons in September, 1978 in New York City. The race traverses all five boroughs of the City.  The race begins at Fort Wadsworth Park in Staten Island and immediately crosses the Verrazano Narrows Bridge across New York Bay to Brooklyn.  Through Bay Ridge and downtown Brooklyn and across the Pulaski Bridge to Queens.  Then across the 59^th Street-Queensborough Bridge to Manhattan, north to the Willis Avenue Bridge to the South Bronx, and then the Madison Avenue Bridge back to Manhattan, through Harlem and Central Park and finally to Tavern on the Green Restaurant near Columbus Circle.  (A friend of mine quipped, “I wouldn’t even want to drive that route!”)  The race covers the standard marathon distance of 26.2 miles or 42.2 kilometers!

Here's a cute story I like to tell about that race: “I ran the race with the famous marathoner Bill Rogers!  He is the eventual winner at 2’ 10”….  But when he crossed the finish line in Manhattan, I was still slogging along in Brooklyn!”

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Jomtien Beach

Thailand

Early Sunday Morning

July 20, 2025

Windy and Overcast

Hello,

And speaking about runners slogging (or just walking) along:

 By the time I realize what is happening in my neighborhood this morning, the Pattaya Marathon had been in progress for three hours. The elite runners and well-trained long-distance runners have already crossed the finish line.  Since my location on the route is at 32 kilometers. or about 20 miles, I am watching “the back of the pack.”

First I remember the pain. At twenty miles everything hurts.  Your hair hurts. Your eyeballs hurt.  Your teeth hurt. You’re not sure where your feet are. (I remembered that in New York near Central Park I needed to step up from the street to the sidewalk. The curbstone looked like a small hill!)

Every cell in your body is screaming at you, begging you to please stop jogging and walk!

And then I remembered again: All along the route, the sidewalks of New York are jammed with cheering crowds shouting encouragement.  Shouting and motivating me to find the energy to continue and finish the race.  At one spot they are playing a loud recording of the Theme Song from Rocky!

Now, today, it’s my turn. 

At first, I just smile at the passing runners.  Then I pump my raised fist in “victory” and they smile and do the same and keep on moving.  “Way to go!”  I shout.  “You’re looking good.”  “Go!”  “Go!”  Young men are walking.  I shout out, “Just one more kilometer.  You can do it.  Just one more k.  One more.”  They smile.  They say Thank you and start jogging again.

I spot older men. Walking In pain.  I walk beside them.  How old are you? I ask. They barely understand me. I realize even their thought process is in pain.  It takes a few seconds for them to form an answer.  Sometimes they use their fingers.  45.  55.  One man grey at the temples says 72.  Ha!  You’re a young man!  I disclose my age and even with my stick I jog a few steps alongside and get him moving again!

I’m on the street for two hours.  Cheering. Encouraging. Energizing. Motivating.  Some thank me.  I thank them!  I know. I remember.

It's five hours now.  A few stragglers. Young men.  Young women.  Just walking.  Slowly.  No facial expression.  In a daze.  Just walking. Still miles to go.  I quietly say to them, “You will finish this race.  Keep going.  Do not stop. You will finish what you started today. Guaranteed. 100%.”

Cheering today and remembering,

Jan

PS Oh yes.  That noise from the street?  A bunch of young women dressed as sunflowers.  Cheerleaders.  Playing music. Encouraging the runners.  Mr. Jan, retired now from his track and field career joins them for a photo op.  I’m encouraged.  They cheer for the runners.  And they cheer for me!