Cue the 1908 Olympic Games in London. The marathon course for that event began at Windsor Castle, which as you may have guessed, is 26 miles away from the finish line at Olympic Stadium in London. Initially, the runners were supposed to enter Olympic Stadium through the royal gate and then dash to the finish line from there. But noooooo. Her Royal Highness Queen Alexandra decided ending the marathon in this manner would give her an inadequate view of the finish. Apparently, the Queen decreed the runners should enter the stadium through the other gate, run counterclockwise around the Olympic track and finish right in front of the royal viewing box. This would add another two-tenths of a mile to the already long run, but c'est la vie. It's not like HRH was running anyhow, so what did she care? The race went off according to the royal requests and, fortunately for Queen Alexandra, she had a VIP view of a dramatic finish between American John Hayes and Italian cannoli-filling pastry chef Dorando Pietri.
My favorite author of all time, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (of Sherlock Holmes fame), was a journalist for the Daily Mail of London during the 1908 Olympics and was assigned to cover the marquee event for those Games: the marathon. Doyle described the palpable anticipation in the stadium that day when he wrote, "Every eye in the great curved bank of humanity is fixed upon the gap. What blazoning will show up on that dust-stained jersey-- the red maple leaf, the blue and yellow, the Stars and Stripes, or the simple numbers of the Britons?" However, it wasn't a Canadian or a Swede who entered the stadium first: it was Pietri, an Italian. Doyle recalled, "Out of the dark archway there staggered a little man, with red running-drawers, a tiny boy-like creature. He reeled as he entered and faced the roar of the applause. Then he feebly turned to the left and trotted around the track." This is some of the best- and most hilarious- sports reporting I've ever read. Ever. Suck it, Rick Reilly.
Pietri was apparently so exhausted and disoriented toward the end of the race that he collapsed five times after he entered Olympic Stadium. Rather than have an athlete fail in front of the Queen, race officials rushed to Pietri's aid and helped him cross the finish line in first place.
Sweet hat, Dorando.
John Hayes, from the United States, crossed the finish line soon after Pietri. Unlike the Italian, though, Hayes completed the race without being having to be held up like a drunk college girl leaving a bar. Hayes protested the results and was eventually awarded the gold medal.
The parallels between Pheidippides' original marathon and Pietri's run in the 1908 London Games are uncanny. Both were unexpected victors of sorts. The Persian army far outnumbered the Greek forces at the Battle of Marathon, yet the Greeks prevailed. Similarly, Pietri was the lone Italian to finish the race in London. In contrast, there were five Americans who completed the 1908 Olympic marathon and seven others that dropped out of the event somewhere before reaching Olympic Stadium. Pheidippides made it all the way from Marathon to Athens only to collapse and perish. Pietri ran two miles more than his Greek predecessor, but still met the same fate: the ground. (Well, Pheidippides wound up six feet under. Pietri just fell on the turf a few times. That's probably a distinction I should clarify.)
Maybe there's a lesson to be learned from both Pheidippides' and Pietri's marathon runs. The obvious takeaway is that running a marathon is fucking nuts and you will either die, or come damn close to doing so, if you attempt the race. I mean, that's certainly a logical conclusion based on our evidence here. But I don't think that's it. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote about Pietri, "...little red legs going incoherently, but drumming hard, driven by a supreme will within.... It is horrible, and yet fascinating, this struggle between a set purpose and an utterly exhausted frame." Running a marathon is indeed fucking nuts. However, accomplishing such a feat is also a prime example of the power of the human spirit. People are not built to run for 26 miles. (Maybe some Kenyans are natural marathoners, but everyday, normal people? Not so much.) Perhaps the draw to training for and running a marathon is what Doyle saw in an exhausted Pietri: the determination to achieve something seemingly impossible.
The tension between physical limitations and mental bravado is something an athlete of any caliber needs to tackle. For me, when I first started running, I would get tired and that was it. My body would win and my run would be over. But the more I ran, the more I found myself negotiating between what my body was telling me (stop running) and what my mind was pushing me to do (keep going). Now that I am running upwards of 18 miles at a time, I find I am more like Pietri now than I was back when I was running only a mile or two. The length and speed of my runs are now determined partially by my physical fitness, but mostly by my mental disposition. Of course it's difficult to run 18 miles and I'm not prepared, at this point, to go much farther-- but I will be, soon. The last few miles of any long run are always challenging. Things start to ache, joints start to tweak and you get really, really, really hungry. (I can't be the only one who has end-of-run burrito fantasies, right?) But you keep your body in a steady rhythm and push the aches and tweaks and burrito dreams out of your head in order to make room for the motivational thoughts you'll need to finish the task at hand. I got this fills my brain at about Mile 10 and I know I can achieve whatever goal I set out to conquer on that particular run. Call it cocky, but I'd like to think it's that "supreme will within" Doyle saw in Pietri as the Italian was collapsing at Olympic Stadium.
After watching Pietri cross the finish line in London, Doyle remarked, "The great breed is not yet extinct." The most remarkable, most awe-inspiring people I know of are not marathoners. They are teachers. They are rock climbers. They are single mothers raising strong and independent daughters. They are people who fall down and get back up with a vengeance, because what is a handicap anyhow? These great people, Pietri and Pheidippides included, seem to have one thing in common: determination. Regardless of their set purposes, the humans I admire most push themselves beyond their own limitations and far beyond mediocrity. They are all so incredibly dedicated. These amazing, everyday people have taught me success is a habit. It's not about who gets to the finish line first, but rather success is the character traits you develop with each and every step you take towards achieving your goal. Success is determination. It's persistence. It's the commitment to creating a better version of yourself each and every day.
Have no fear, Sir Doyle: the great breed is still very much alive.
By the Numbers:
Distance Tuesday (01/28): 4.52 miles (with Tayvian from Sole Train youth running group)
Time Tuesday: 50 minutes (11'01" splits)
Distance Wednesday (01/29): 10.16 miles
Time Wednesday: 1 hour, 25 minutes (8'21" splits)
Distance Thursday (01/30): 2.51 miles (with Sole Train youth running group)
Time Thursday: 31 minutes (12'18" splits)
Distance Saturday (02/01): 18.01 miles (PR distance!)
Time Saturday: 2 hours, 37 minutes (8'43" splits)
Distance Monday (02/06): 7.18 miles (on a treadmill)
Time Monday: 1 hour
Distance Tuesday (02/07): 2.17 miles (with Sole Train youth running group)
Time Tuesday: 25 minutes (11'20" splits)
Distance Wednesday (02/08): 3.5 miles (on a treadmill)
Time Wednesday: 30 minutes
Distance Saturday (02/08): 16 miles (with James from Tenacity Marathon Team)
Time Saturday: 2 hours, 17 minutes (8'32" splits)
Cumulative Distance Since Blog Started: 341.09 miles
Cumulative Time Since Blog Started: 54 hours, 18 minutes (2 days, 6 hours, 18 minutes)
(Post Script: At about Mile 13 of my run today, I accidentally stepped on a ball of ice and twisted my ankle. It hurt. It hurt a lot, actually. But I kept thinking about Pietri and what Doyle wrote about him in the London Daily Mail. I could have quit my run at that point, but I kept going, determined to reach the 16 mile goal I set out to achieve. I kept thinking If Sir Doyle were reporting about me, what would he write? I wanted to make sure he would see me persevere instead of succumb to injury. Yes, I am motivated by a guy who's been dead since 1930. That's probably pretty weird. I'm icing my ankle now.)
(Post Script: At about Mile 13 of my run today, I accidentally stepped on a ball of ice and twisted my ankle. It hurt. It hurt a lot, actually. But I kept thinking about Pietri and what Doyle wrote about him in the London Daily Mail. I could have quit my run at that point, but I kept going, determined to reach the 16 mile goal I set out to achieve. I kept thinking If Sir Doyle were reporting about me, what would he write? I wanted to make sure he would see me persevere instead of succumb to injury. Yes, I am motivated by a guy who's been dead since 1930. That's probably pretty weird. I'm icing my ankle now.)
