Growing Up Over 26.2

Finding the Best in Yourself and in Others

De: Ben Cober

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

In the winter of 2007 at the age of 23, I began to train for Cincinnati’s Flying Pig Marathon with TEAM in Training and the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Shortly after training began, a biweekly magazine known as CiN Weekly put out a call for marathon trainers to blog about their training and experience on the magazine’s website, and subsequently in a few of the print editions. I, along with three other trainees, was selected from the dozens of applicants to log my journey twice a week. To my growing surprise, my blog posts were far more popular than I had assumed they would ever be, landing many followers, shares, donations, free medical treatment, and additional appearances on local media. At the blog’s conclusion, a number of people told me that I should compile my posts into a book and publish it. I took it as a generous compliment, but never took it seriously. Why would anyone care about my marathon experience? First of all, I’m no trainer or nutritionist, nor have I completed countless marathons, so why should any of my advice be valid? Second, I don’t have a narratively-dramatic, terminal illness like cancer or HIV, nor was I a highly-sought after minority with a voice or cause that needed to be heard. I’m a white, middle-class, Midwest guy with knee problems and asthma: nothing headline-snatching. After eight years of reflection though, I came to a realization: It’s worthy of publishing; and it’s worthy of publishing for these three reasons: First, the “every person” story needs to be told. The great majority of marathon runners aren’t ultra-marathoners, professional athletes, nutritionists, nor do they have a particular affliction or personal cause that inspires their run. They’re the everyday folks you see in the office, walking along the sidewalk, bounding along on the elliptical at the gym, working the checkout at your neighborhood grocery, or sitting in gridlock traffic. They’re not superheros; they’re you and me. And their “normalcy” doesn’t cheapen their stories at all; they’re just as important. Second, this story is a valuable reflection on that bright, bubbly, invulnerable period in life between youth and adulthood. This is a time that is so defining for all of us, when we’re old enough to understand how valuable the generosity is that surrounds us, but young enough to feel unwaveringly optimistic in spite of the negative forces that may begin to wear us down in our later years. It is interesting, even insightful, to recall who I was eight years ago: fresh out of college, full of optimism, hope, determination, and few responsibilities. The entire world was an opportunity for me, and everyone had good in their hearts. In some ways, I think 23-year-old me may have been one of the best versions of myself, and I find sometimes that I wish there were days where I had his counsel. Lastly, when you reach the last page of this journey of feet and print, this story is one of an inexperienced, ragtag group of strangers coming together to overcome insurmountable odds in the fight for what is good and what is right. And we, as a society and as individuals, love a good underdog story. I think this is because for most of us, on most days, we all feel like underdogs. We located that parking spot just in the nick of time; our boss finally told us “good job;” our child actually told us about his or her day, rather than just saying “it was fine;” or we ran .1 miles farther than we did yesterday. Every day we write our own underdog stories, and it inspires us to see other “underdogs” rise to the status of “regulardogs.” This is also a story of a young man making sense of the world after academia, and finding beauty in almost all of it – and finding his place amid that beauty. It was a formative time of putting things into perspective, learning about love and cherishing what truly matters. This is not a work that will necessarily help people train for a marathon, but may help them train for life.