There's A Place On The Starting Line For You
You just need to take it
I’m back from Chicago. It’s raining here in Portland. I’m taking that as a sign that PDX is pissed that I was gone for a few days and is now sulking. Makes sense to me. It’s also how I deal with the incessant rain that starts to fall in mid Autumn and continues to fall all Winter and doesn’t stop falling until early Summer. I humanize the weather. It’s easier for me that way. This way I get to be upset with the PNW weather for acting like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh if Eeyore was not only always negative but also passive aggressive. I mean how can you rain for 8 straight months and not hook us up with some rolling thunder once? No lightning? Are you serious? What’s wrong with you? Do you enjoy being a curmudgeon? Do you? Is that your thing? Oh… look at me… I’m the weather in the Pacific Northwest. I’m so emo.
What just happened? How long was I out? I remember writing about coming home from Chicago and then… nothing. I see words on the screen. Did I type those? Sometimes a ramble just happens. I disappear and the ramble takes over. I’d apologize but you knew what you were getting into when you chose to read what I wrote.
Anyway, back to the newsletter.
I’m back from the Chicago Marathon weekend. And it was a doozy. Yes, I said doozy. You should say it too. Say it. Yes, now. Doozy. Now say… it’s a doozy. Hilarious, right? Doozy. Ridiculous word. Perfect word. And Chicago was a doozy. For a few short days the world was better… assuming you basically limited the world to Chicago. 40,000 weirdos were preparing to run 42.2K in the streets. Tens of thousands more were arriving to support those 40,000 weirdos. And hundreds of thousands more were getting ready to wake up early Sunday morning and stand on sidewalks and cheer on 40,000 weirdo strangers. It’s a recipe for something beautiful.
I did a whole bunch of events all weekend long. I gave and got hugs. I shook hands. I high-fived. I fist bumped. I laughed. I listened. I talked. I talked some more. Dear god, I spoke even more. I ate spaghetti and meatballs three days in a row from the same place. I stopped and took pictures. I stopped and made videos wishing luck to friends of strangers or saying hello to family of people I just met. I was inspired by just about everyone. Well, except for that one guy at the O’Hare airport while I was waiting for my taxi. The guy was smoking and when his ride arrived (before mine) he threw his half finished and still burning toxic chemical stick on the ground. It just sat there and smoldered. Smoker and litterer. So, I wasn’t inspired by him. Actually, he inspired me to continue to not smoke and do a better job cleaning up after myself. Okay, so, I was inspired by everyone!
All weekend long I was making my way through a seemingly endless stream of people that were trying to do something extraordinary. (Taking on 42.2k is extraordinary you know.) Everyone was excited. Some would say they were nervous. There’s a fine line between excited and nervous. Sometimes there is no line at all. Besides, being nervous just means you care. It’s badass to care. And Chicago seemed like the caring capital of the world for a few days. So, you want to hear about the epic marathon that took place? Great. Here is something I wrote for the Nike Running group on Strava. Yes, I will link to the group later. Actually, let’s just get that out of the way now… tap this to check out the Nike Running group on Strava. Okay, now we can get into what I wrote:
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HOPE ON THE STARTING LINE
I'll start with an admission... I wasn't at the finish line for Kelvin Kiptum or Sifan Hassan. Yup. I missed Kiptum set the marathon World Record. And I missed Hassan run the second fastest women's marathon ever. Wasn't I in Chicago? Yes. I was. While Kiptum and Hassan were running themselves into history I was frantically trying to hail a ride to the airport a few blocks away. Poor planning on my part. I didn't see them cross the finish line. It still stings.
But I saw them cross the starting line. Focused. Determined. Relaxed. Eyes looking ahead. Understanding that what lay in front of them was 42.2K of running. And knowing that laid out behind them was thousands of miles already run. There was something in the air. You could be excused for calling it electricity. Electricity is after all just a form of energy. And there was definitely energy on that starting line.
You could see it in both Kiptum and Hassan. It was a contained energy as they awaited the sound of the gun and the excuse to release the 40,000 runners. Starting line crossed. Race begun. 26.2 miles to go. They both took flight. I'm not exaggerating when I say it was a emotional. Here were two people trying to do something not only better than they ever had before... but better than anyone ever had before. Inspired, I ate the donut I held in one hand and drank the coffee I had in my other hand with a passion that wasn't there only moments earlier.
I was not racing. I was spectating. No. I was more than a spectator! I was a fan. And I was a cheerleader. And I was a support crew. I was a roadie and a rally organizer. Because after Kiptum and Hassan took off to take on the marathon there were more runners that wanted to do the same. For what seemed like an hour a seemingly endless stream of people made their way to the same starting line that Kiptum and Hassan crossed. People from everywhere came together here to cross this thin white line painted across the road. They followed the lead of Hassan and Kiptum both literally and figuratively.
I just stood there. The donut was done. The coffee was cold. And still I just stood there and watched. Tens of thousands of people making there way to the starting line. Walking until they could run. Heading to the beginning of the challenge that was circled on their calendar so many weeks ago. They had made it to this place that was right in front of me. The training finished so they could start... finally.
Laughter. Crying. Cheering. Nervous. Joyful. Clapping. Silence. Confidence. Relief.
The starting line is unmatched for the range of emotions to be found in one place. But there is one feeling that is shared by all that make their way to that line... a line that is so much more than just a line painted on a road. And that one shared feeling? Hope. Everyone hopes that on the other side of the line they will be who they are meant to be. They hope that they will answer the challenges that await them on the other side of that line. They hope that they will be better for this leap of faith that is the crossing of a starting line.
Hope. It's a contagious thing. I made my way from the starting line to the finish line. My journey was 41.2K shorter than the runners. Just a little walk. But I too made my way there full of hope. Hopeful that Kelvin Kiptum and Sifan Hassan would know before they crossed the finish line just how inspiring they were... are... to so many of us. Hopeful that they would know that their extraordinary running gives everyone the freedom to dream bigger. Hopeful that they understand how brave it is to try and do something better than you've ever done before. Hopeful that Sifan and Kelvin know that by crossing one finish line they inspired so many to cross their own starting lines. Hopeful that even though they saw no one in front of them they knew that we were all behind them.
I'm also hopeful that everyone that ran the marathon or the 5K or the shakeout runs on Saturday or their first run this weekend or just another run today know that you give me hope too. You inspire me too. You motivate me too. You give me the freedom to dream bigger too. I hope you know that you all have more in common with Kelvin Kiptum and Sifan Hassan than you have differences. Our paces and times on our watches may be different. But we all carry our hopes and dreams and fears across the starting line. That's why we come out with a coffee and donut on a Sunday morning and stand and cheer for people we've never met. For a few hours every marathon weekend there is nothing strange about cheering and supporting and celebrating strangers.
That gives me hope too.
And that's why I know I'll be back. Next time though... I hope I have a later flight.
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A LITTLE MESSAGE TO ANYONE CROSSING A STARTING LINE
I recorded this moments before the start of the Chicago Marathon. It’s inspired by everyone that was about to take on the 26.2 miles that morning. But it’s meant for anyone that’s walking up to any starting line in their life. The starting line of a marathon or 5K. The starting line of a long run or speed run. The starting line of a test or exam. The starting line of a new job or new school. The starting line of a had conversation or goodbye. If you find yourself on a starting line in your life… this is a message for you. Just tap the video to start the message.
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NEW EPISODES OF COACH BENNETT’S PODCAST!
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NEW TWO COACH BENNETTS TALKING EPISODE
So much good stuff for you in this newsletter! And it’s always great to talk with coach tammie of the show up society. tammie has also become a weekly regular on the Coach Bennett’s Podcast with her Mindset Minute. You can check out the Show Up Society, the personal coaching tammie offers as well as the community that was launched earlier this month by tapping this sentence.
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NEW AND REFRESHED, RESET, REBORN COACH BENNETT’S MIXTAPE
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Play it loud.
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Until next time… take care of yourself and take care of each other.
Cheers,
Coach Bennett
So inspiring ~ many takeaways, the key word how me is hope! I've started running after a long hiatus, my progress is slow & steady! 😊
Thank you! Starting a new uni course on Monday 💪👍🏻