Witness to the human spirit in action: marathon runners

After weeks of cold, rainy weather, Ottawa delivered a hot, humid day under a vampire-like sun for the Marathon this Sunday – every runner’s worst nightmare.

The Marathon is, in my opinion, absolutely the best spectator sport. I don’t watch it to see the “winners” – I watch it so I can get to see up-close the depth of the human spirit, the capacity of mere mortals to endure prolonged agony so they can achieve their personal goals. These are not short-term gratification types: these are true athletes.

I watched from the 37km mark – just 4km from the finish line. Just about everybody is suffering by that point.

I stood on the side of the road snapping pictures of the runners and smiling at them. The Marathon can be a deeply moving experience. I felt like a big marshmallow out there, cheering and smiling and at times choking up, fighting back the tears. Last year I saw a blind runner running with a guide who gave him verbal cues, such as “the bend in the road is starting now,” and “there’s someone 7 feet in front of you to the left.” I was not only impressed with the blind runner, but also with the guide, who not only was running a marathon but doing it while concentrating for somebody else. I saw a man running in his socks and carrying his shoes because his feet were so blistered. I saw runners interrupt their own run to help strangers in trouble.

This year I saw men with bleeding nipples (you’re supposed to tape them before the race so the friction doesn’t rub them raw) and a couple of people overcome with heat exhaustion, staggering and collapsing on the side of the road, where they lay there shaking and vomiting and unable to communicate. I saw paramedics hooking an unconscious girl up to intravenous.

Most of the runners at the 37km mark are completely focused on their own personal struggle to reach the finish line, their own pain, their own breathing. A few, though, looked at me and smiled or spoke to me on their way by. One man just said, quite simply, “Ow.” A middle-aged woman said “This is crazy.” Another woman smiled back at me and said “Thank you – that was just what I needed.” I think she was thanking me just for smiling at her.

I wished I could have stayed longer, because I would have loved to have been there for the determined souls who can’t do it fast but are still determined to do it – the ones who finish after all the spectators have gone home, the ones who miss out on all the cheers and encouragement along their lonely route. But I had somewhere else I had to be, so I left around 12:30 – 4 and a half hours after the Marathon started, and 2 hours after the Half-Marathon started. All the runners I saw still had another half hour to run under that blistering sun.

I was thinking about Terry Fox too: he ran a marathon a day – on one leg and a stump – for 145 consecutive days. There isn’t a runner alive who would advocate doing anything so crazy and painful and so bad for you. But sheer determination trumps everything else.

Here are a few of the 168 photos I took. The ones with the orange bibs are Marathoners, and the ones with the blue bibs are Half-Marathoners. I am in awe of every last one of them.

This is my friend Bev, who muttered “I’m dying” as she sailed past me:

This girl’s pretty cheerful despite the ice pack on her bum:

Everything’s in kilter:

She’s gotta be hot:

A happy pace bunny:

Running through blood:

As if running a marathon weren’t enough of a challenge:

Here comes a front-running Half-Marathoner through the Marathoners:

Another elite Half-Marathoner:

Fast Women:

I have many more photos, and if any of the runners happen across this page and would like me to check to see if I happened to get a photo of them, please let me know.