from the Houston Chronicle

The attached article was in the Chronicle. It's nice to the spectators, at least this one, knows how much they are appreciated!!

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I came, I saw, I was heartened
Marathon was a first for this man, but it won't be last

By GREG FORD
Copyright 2008 Houston Chronicle

I will never forget my first marathon — the 2008 Chevron Houston Marathon.

For the record, I did not run the 2008 Chevron Houston Marathon.

Furthermore, I have never run a marathon before, and in fact, before this year, I had never even been to a marathon for spectator purposes. Once, in 1984, I watched the Chicago Marathon at a favorite watering hole at Rush and Division streets. As my associate astutely observed Joan Benoit in the final mile turning in ridiculously fast mile times, he accurately pointed out, "If we were to jump in the race right now, we would still get beat."

As a rehabilitated runner from the '80s now running six days a week for health and fitness at Memorial Park, I decided in December that I wanted to apply for the ING New York Marathon when applications are open for acceptance. My thought: Maybe I'll get in, maybe I won't. Whatever happens, I'll continue to run for health and fitness. It just makes me a better human.

However, after experiencing the Chevron Houston Marathon last Sunday as a spectator, I have amended my first marathon application. Just hours after the Chevron Houston Marathon was complete, I applied for the 2009 event in Houston. I am sold on Houston's marathon event.

Here's what happened:
This year my wife and I decided to go check out the marathon on Jan. 13. We looked at the map route in the Chronicle the day before and over lunch decided upon an intersection near our home at approximately mile 18.
On race day morning, we arrived early so we could see everyone. We watched and cheered on the elite, the near-elite and the mortals for more than three hours. By the time we left, it felt like about 20 minutes had gone by. We cheered individuals on — calling out their names and offering words of encouragement like, "You're looking great, Bill," or "Great job, Barbara." We were really pulled into the race by these magnificent humans. By the end our voices were raspy, and our hands felt a little bruised from all the clapping. People had warned me a marathon would be painful.

Now I am not typically emotional — at least not overly emotional. Like many a fellow man, I learned a long time ago in my youth how to man-up and keep a stiff upper lip. However, as a newbie cheering spectator, I was not prepared for the feedback from the strangers running past us at mile 18. The response to our clapping and encouragement from the runners just about overwhelmed me — I had to hold back tears and high emotion several times at the beginning because the runners (of all levels) caught me off guard and got into my heart.

Some said, "Thanks, man." Some glanced back with the most genuine look of gratitude for calling out their name and encouraging them and gave a big thumbs up. Many just lit up and smiled when they heard their name.
It was beautiful to witness the incredible human spirit in each of these runners — just absolutely pure and authentic human spirit in the context of an extreme human achievement, 26.2 miles. I felt like every runner that ran by us was no longer a stranger.

It struck me very early on that this is exactly what life is supposed to be like — whereby we cheer for one another — sincerely encouraging each other to hold our heads and posture with our eyes on the horizon, racing to the finish. It is so simple, that it is profound: authentic, genuine encouragement. It reminded me that a kind, sincere word of encouragement has tremendous, albeit understated, power. I am ashamed to admit that I have forgotten that from time to time.

The elite, the near-elite and the mortals who ran the marathon in the city I love most, individually and collectively re-educated me on the magnificent human spirit each of us has — and the power of that internal strength to motivate us to carry on through intense pain and adversity in light of achieving that which we set out to do.

Even though I do not know the runners we cheered on personally, I can no longer consider them strangers. They are now my heroes and friends.

Ford is an investment banker in Houston.