Pounding the Ground

I STARTED RUNNING as a hobby thirty years ago, when I was thirty years old. Its been great, and it may have contributed much to my health and happiness. Other runners would probably say the same thing. My longest run ever was between ten and eleven miles, and I only did that to impress a girl I was training with. She was preparing for a marathon, I was impressing. Other than that, I've had a nine miler, a pair of eights, and then, thousands of shorter ones.That's good enough for me. I have never seriously considered running twenty six miles and three hundred eighty five yards. That last three hundred and eighty five yards is just too much. They say anyone can run a marathon, with enough motivation, and I tend to agree. Everyone, that is, except me. I just can't see it. Why bother? The fact that dude ran this great distance to deliver a warning to the folks in Athens concerning the imminent arrival of the Persian army is insufficient reason for me, I guess. If I go an hour, maintain a decent pace, I am happy, and feel like I've had my exercise. The tens of thousands of people who actually run marathons are, in my mind, freaks of nature, every last one of them. Dude on National Public Radio was talking about being over the age of fifty, and having an eighteen year old daughter who was majoring in engineering, hoping to become an astronaut. She needed to be fit, and daddy needed to help her. Several marathons later, he's live on the radio, chatting into a microphone, as he enters mile ten of his daily work out. I just don't see it. A seventy six year old retired military man has run in every Marine corps marathon ever run, since the first one in 1976. He is among the few remaining "ground pounders", meaning those who have run 'em all, or, those who serve in army infantry. We are a culture of extremes. Extreme wealth, extreme entertainment, bigger house, more miles per runner, more hot dogs per contest. Me? I'd rather serve in the infantry, or, for that matter, in prison.