That is beautifully written! I have stood elbow to elbow at a start line well over a hundred times. I love the collective energy and anticipation that you describe. Now as an older runner, I get in “mom mode” by telling the shy but clearly more fit younger runners behind me or at my side, “Go on, get up front more, you belong up there,” and they always smile and seem grateful for the encouragement. Last year, I also felt this start-line power at a Green Day concert, standing close to others near the stage. Somehow, during adulthood, I stopped seeing live music. But oh my god, this Green Day show was transcendent, because of the shared experience and the power of the band, so many times greater than what we’d see and hear if watching the show alone via a screen. So one of my New Year’s resolutions, along with running goals, is to go to more concerts. Thank you for this ode.
Thanks so much, Sarah. I edited out a little chunk about comparing a race with concerts because of the obvious comparisons with mass audiences. I’m super envious of your Green Day experience. Would love to see them live some day!
I Loved this issue. When I read the last sentence of this section I laughed out loud!
Such congregations in public space feel rare.
Street parades hardly count—too orderly. Protests? Maybe. Political rallies of the totalitarian sort are passé, though with autocracy on the rise goose-stepping brigades might make an appearance again. I doubt it though. Americans lack the hamstring flexibility.
That hamstring tightness only gets worse with age. I also really appreciated the classical references.
I recognize everything you say so well here (it's all true), and it makes me really, really want to like starting lines, but after 80+ races they're still one of my least favorite parts of the sport. I'm sure being an introvert is part of it, but mainly it just feels so joltingly different from the rest of my running life. (Finish lines, on the other hand, always feel magical, crowd and all.)
An exception: the Hellgate 100k start... ~140 runners gather at midnight in a small clearing at the Hellgate Trailhead, wait for Dr. David Horton to lead a group-sing of the national anthem and countdown to the 12:01am start, then launch into the darkness and weather of December in the Shenandoahs (I've been back for that one many times, and it always feels special).
Oh my gosh. Love this story, Jeff. Oh I would love to go running in the Shenandoah sometime(although maybe not at midnight). I’ve never had the chance to explore.
That is beautifully written! I have stood elbow to elbow at a start line well over a hundred times. I love the collective energy and anticipation that you describe. Now as an older runner, I get in “mom mode” by telling the shy but clearly more fit younger runners behind me or at my side, “Go on, get up front more, you belong up there,” and they always smile and seem grateful for the encouragement. Last year, I also felt this start-line power at a Green Day concert, standing close to others near the stage. Somehow, during adulthood, I stopped seeing live music. But oh my god, this Green Day show was transcendent, because of the shared experience and the power of the band, so many times greater than what we’d see and hear if watching the show alone via a screen. So one of my New Year’s resolutions, along with running goals, is to go to more concerts. Thank you for this ode.
Thanks so much, Sarah. I edited out a little chunk about comparing a race with concerts because of the obvious comparisons with mass audiences. I’m super envious of your Green Day experience. Would love to see them live some day!
Beautiful. Thank you.
Thanks so much, Sean.
I Loved this issue. When I read the last sentence of this section I laughed out loud!
Such congregations in public space feel rare.
Street parades hardly count—too orderly. Protests? Maybe. Political rallies of the totalitarian sort are passé, though with autocracy on the rise goose-stepping brigades might make an appearance again. I doubt it though. Americans lack the hamstring flexibility.
That hamstring tightness only gets worse with age. I also really appreciated the classical references.
Strong work! Sam
MDR
Thanks so much, Dad! Glad you enjoyed it. Was great rereading some Homer for this.
"It's a beautiful day".... Do you they still play that at the start of the Chicago Marathon? Great piece Sam!
Thanks so much, Marty! It was a long time ago when I started Chicago, so I’d have to find out!
No worries Sam... I ran Chicago 3 times, 2001, 2006 and again in 2008 (I think). it was always there... : ).
I recognize everything you say so well here (it's all true), and it makes me really, really want to like starting lines, but after 80+ races they're still one of my least favorite parts of the sport. I'm sure being an introvert is part of it, but mainly it just feels so joltingly different from the rest of my running life. (Finish lines, on the other hand, always feel magical, crowd and all.)
An exception: the Hellgate 100k start... ~140 runners gather at midnight in a small clearing at the Hellgate Trailhead, wait for Dr. David Horton to lead a group-sing of the national anthem and countdown to the 12:01am start, then launch into the darkness and weather of December in the Shenandoahs (I've been back for that one many times, and it always feels special).
Oh my gosh. Love this story, Jeff. Oh I would love to go running in the Shenandoah sometime(although maybe not at midnight). I’ve never had the chance to explore.
Thanks for this, Sam. This one hit.
Thanks so much, Gus! Glad it landed.