Running is mainly a solitary sport - this is why I love it but also why I inevitably seek out the support of other runners and crowds by racing.
Yesterday I trained in Wissahickon Park with Students Run Philly Style.
www.studentsrunphilly.org
This organization mentors Philly youth through marathon training and promotes a big dream with reachable milestones along the way. It is an organization rooted in courage, effort and respect - for each other and the journey. In that, it embraces the use of hard work to get somewhere tangible with less focus on the destination and a necessary emphasis on the method.
We started with warm-ups in Saylor Park along Wissahickon Creek. My group of runners was introduced to the 100 kids staring back at us and welcomed with cheers and clapping. This center-of-attention-avoiding-at-all-costs-for-30-years runner chose that moment to find her voice, suck it up and lead warm-ups. Jumping jacks, star jumps, lunges, front and side swings and a few burpies later, the entire group was given a decision to make: Will you run a half or full marathon in the Fall.
Having come close enough to touch a marathon but never run it, the enormity of this decision was a privilege to witness. The kids chose, fell back into their teams with their coaches and headed to the trail head on Forbidden Drive where our course began. We followed.
As a group just starting out on our run, we mirrored the force of the river beneath us and ran together, following and pushing, without aggression and as in sync as 100 pairs of feet can ever be. Soon the crowd spread out and the space drew out in such a way that we were not disconnected from one another; rather, we were pulled forward by it. The loop proved itself beautiful at the turn when you knew the faces to come would be bright, full of support and just enough to meet the next set of eyes.
It is important (for me) to remember that these are kids. A place I am far from. But they possess such respect for this sport and own the understanding that running belongs to no one and everyone just the same, that I trust it is easy to forget that they are short on years.
It was 8 miles with 100 teenagers that showed me if you really do have clear eyes and full hearts, no matter what your reality is, you can't lose. The world won't let you.
We started with warm-ups in Saylor Park along Wissahickon Creek. My group of runners was introduced to the 100 kids staring back at us and welcomed with cheers and clapping. This center-of-attention-avoiding-at-all-costs-for-30-years runner chose that moment to find her voice, suck it up and lead warm-ups. Jumping jacks, star jumps, lunges, front and side swings and a few burpies later, the entire group was given a decision to make: Will you run a half or full marathon in the Fall.
Having come close enough to touch a marathon but never run it, the enormity of this decision was a privilege to witness. The kids chose, fell back into their teams with their coaches and headed to the trail head on Forbidden Drive where our course began. We followed.
As a group just starting out on our run, we mirrored the force of the river beneath us and ran together, following and pushing, without aggression and as in sync as 100 pairs of feet can ever be. Soon the crowd spread out and the space drew out in such a way that we were not disconnected from one another; rather, we were pulled forward by it. The loop proved itself beautiful at the turn when you knew the faces to come would be bright, full of support and just enough to meet the next set of eyes.
It is important (for me) to remember that these are kids. A place I am far from. But they possess such respect for this sport and own the understanding that running belongs to no one and everyone just the same, that I trust it is easy to forget that they are short on years.
It was 8 miles with 100 teenagers that showed me if you really do have clear eyes and full hearts, no matter what your reality is, you can't lose. The world won't let you.
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