Not Quite the Penn Relays; but Close.

Franklin Field is the University of Pennsylvania's stadium for, well, everything, including graduations, lacrosse, touch football, cricket and the upcoming Penn Relays.  It was built for $100,000 and dedicated, in 1895, for the first running of the relays that have become a cornerstone in any young track athlete's life.  It was formerly the home of the Philadelphia Eagles, housed Penn's first baseball field and provided the backdrop for FDR's acceptance of the 1936 Democratic Party's nomination for a second term as president. It is rarely, if ever, open to the public and never, ever, open when I sprint past it at 5:00AM on Winter mornings.  Until the day it was.

It was early-March and I was on the last long (18 miles) run of my impromptu marathon training.  It was dark, cold and, quite frankly, miserable.  I'd already been around the Art Museum, through Graduate Hospital, around an ever-growing Toll Bros. development and a power plant that's a little beautiful and a little scary in its size and simplicity.  I'd gone up Spruce to 48th, come back down to CHOP's hidden city, stopped to stretch back there in the scrubs-clad world the hospital creates, and set back out again up Locust to 48th and back down toward Franklin Field's beacon at the bottom of the Penn hills.  And, just like that, coming around a blind curve and barely awake at Mile 15, I realized the gates were open.

Not only were the gates open but there was no one around because it was, after all, barely dawn and 35 degrees.  Initially, I ran past the gates and only stared inside, afraid to break any rules.  That lasted about 45 seconds because I realized I would never be back in this moment again and so I decided to live it.

Crossing through those huge iron gates and onto hallowed track lanes, I ran a lap with the sun coming up, completely alone with my footfalls and my breath.  On that quarter mile, I was an 8th grader trying hurdles for the first time; a 1st grader losing to her best friend at a fun run; a Sophomore puking before the 4 x 400 relay; and a Senior walking off for the last time without looking back.  The crunch of my feet on the last turn brought me back to the majesty of my surroundings and with a kiss to the sky, I passed back through those gates to complete my run and tuck the memory down into my gym bag for the next time.