When you ran your first marathon during the Reagan Administration there is a tendency to lose track of many of the races in between. The medals are stuffed in a carton inside a closet somewhere in the house you moved from years ago, someone snickers at a shirt you are wearing from the 1997 Broad Street Run, and you find a picture a kid in ridiculous looking track shorts and say, “Who is that fool,” and the answer is, “You.”
So why am I excited about the Bucks County Marathon that I’ll be leaving for in half an hour? It will be about my millionth race, and my fourteenth marathon. I can’t remember being this excited about my qualifying marathon in Steamtown, or even Boston. Maybe my introspective gene is hyperactive this morning, and I have a premonition I’ll solve one of life’s great mysteries on the trail, or even my own mystery. Maybe it was the rhythm of my early morning runs, or my long run, the company.
My fan club is usually the hundreds or thousands of spectators who show up at a race to cheer their runners. But today my own fan club is coming–my wife, daughter and son. I’m excited, and I hope it’s contagious.