Marathon column - From the Bench

Loving the Little Rock Marathon for So Many Reasons

Robert Shields

For the first time in eight years, I did not participate in the Little Rock Marathon in anyway except for being an observer. It saddened me. I had setbacks this year in my running, and it’s been difficult to get back. Instead I picked up lame biking. Bikers who I used to curse on the River Trail, I now understand their plight on their level.

I hope to be back to running one day, and my goal is a half-marathon by next year. We will see, but it’s time for me to stop the self-loathing for this column and rehab properly.

I love the marathon on many levels. The biggest reason, though, is getting to see ordinary people do an extraordinary thing for themselves. To many of the marathoners, the goal seemed improbable if not impossible when they embarked on their quest of completing the 26.2 miles (why the extra .2 miles, ancient Greece?).

I witnessed one man crying at the end of his adventure. I was not sure if it was tears of joy or tears of pain. I felt for the runners in the last mile who had to stop because of cramps. You know they wanted nothing more than to run that last mile, but their body had failed them at the end. Yet their will to finish brought them across the finish line against their body’s demand.

The third phase of the marathon is probably the most challenging. You have finished the climb up Kavanaugh hill, and you’re sent out on the River Trail heading west. It’s straight and flat. The wind is ever present along the river in any direction (but at least no bikers to put up with for one day). The crowd, to a great extent, is nonexistent and it tests the mental will of many runners. You finish heading back east down Cantrell to LaHarpe. You have to make a final ascent up a hill at the Dillard’s headquarters. It is a tough climb for that late in the race.

The pacers amaze me. I cannot tell when I might finish within 15 minutes. But one after another, the pacers come in right on time. Not to mention they are carrying a sign with their pace. I hate carrying my watch. The four-hour pacer gets a round of applause for his outfit. He was dressed as the Thriller character, Michael Jackson.

I love the sights of the marathon, like the person along the route dressed as a shark who looked as though he had eaten a runner. I have to give kudos to the woman I saw running in the bikini top. I also saw a Flash, Captain America, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, and women dressed as fairies wearing wings.

I saw a man who looked well into his 80s running the full marathon. His bib number was 1871, and my son asked if that was the year he was born. I said no, but he’s running it better than most 18-year-olds could.

There is the jubilation for some runners. A friend of mine ran his first marathon and wanted to be under four hours. He finished in 3:57. He was very happy. He was followed by others sprinting behind him to get under the four-hour mark also.

There are those who finish with an immense sense of accomplishment. At the end of the half-marathon, I saw several women well over 300 pounds finishing it by walking the remaining distance.

Then the race for some is more than just fun. It’s a sense of existence and living. As one runner’s shirt said, “Chemo is over. It’s time to run.”

Well, until I my return to running, it’s time to get back to mowing down little kids and yelling at people with strollers to move over with the rest of the speeding bikers on the River Trail. See you out there.

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In Razorback news, the basketball team keeps redefining the term lackluster. Football is right around the corner with spring practice. The expectations on Tyler Wilson will be high. Maybe even higher than were on Mallett. I look forward to seeing him practice this spring and getting good e-mails from those close to him.


Send why the .2 miles is tacked onto the end of the marathon to fromthebench@yahoo.com.

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