A few years back, quite a few, when I was in my thirties I played another guy in a singles tennis match. He was maybe 19 years old and it was brutally hot and while I was clearly the better player I lost. I lost because he was 19 and seemed impervious to the heat, while I was 35 and just got gassed out there on the 140 degree F concrete. And that led me to take up a new discipline, running.
I started slowly running only as far as I could comfortably, maybe a quarter mile, and then walking until I felt I could run again. I did that for a solid month on the streets around our house and by the end of the month I was running 2.5 miles continuously with no rest breaks. I kept that up four times a week for the next few years, moving to town when the horseflies and deerflies became too intense. In town I ran at a track where a running club also ran and they eventually adopted me into their group.
They scoffed at my short 2.5 mile runs and within a couple of weeks they had me running ten milers and eventually introduced me to marathons. We had a great time road tripping to marathons all over the country and it really did help my tennis a little so I kept it up. Today I want to tell a story about the single most moving thing I ever saw on a run, something that makes me misty eyed now, years later just to write about. I did include a paragraph about this in a previous post but I thought it was worth revisiting in a little more detail so here it is.
The Marine Corps Marathon is held in the Washington DC area every year. Some 30,000 people from 50 countries participate in the event and much of the organization and volunteer staffing is provided by service men and women. It circles around DC and Arlington VA and takes in some historic sites and has a very patriotic feel to it that is unique among the marathons I’ve run.
As is common among large marathons there is a wheelchair class that starts prior to the runners and at some point if you are fast enough you will pass some of the competitors in that group. And this is my story.
As usual with any big race there is quite a lot of milling about and standing around before the start as everyone is herded into position. But finally we were off and I settled into my mindless trance of thinking about anything but how far I had left to run. I was looking at the scenery, the other runners, anything that kept me from obsessing about only being six miles into a twenty-six mile run! I was not well trained, and that is a big mistake in long distance racing and therefore my attitude starting out was one of feeling sorry for myself and a little dread as to how much this was going to hurt and whether I could finish the course. But other than having a pretty sorry attitude I was doing OK.
Then up ahead in the distance I saw a…formation? You see a lot of things in a marathon, people in costumes, people juggling while running and even people running barefoot sometimes but I had never seen this. I was intrigued! As I got closer I could see it was four marines clad in full battle gear running in formation with a wheelchair racer in the center. While the four running marines all had big heavy packs on, two of them also had something else strapped to their backs but they were far in the distance and I could not make out what this unusual collection of men represented.
I was thrilled to have a target ahead of me and a puzzle to solve because with any luck I would be able to go a couple of miles figuring out what this meant and oblivious to the monotony and pain involved in the race. Runners are faster than wheelchair racers so I steadily closed the distance until I was running right behind the Marines. And I still have tremendous difficulty talking about this or even typing it right now because I was so swept with an emotional wave that has stayed with me for the ten years that have passed since this transpired.
The wheelchair racer was a Marine who had lost his legs in an IED attack in the Iraq War. The four Marines were fellow members of his platoon and the two objects I had not been able to recognize strapped on their backs were his prosthetic legs.
Up to this point I had been lamenting my situation, poorly trained, already hurting six miles into the race, no chance at a personal best time. Twenty more miles to go and my attitude was awful and childishly self-centered. Poor poor me! And yet here was this young man in his twenties, no legs, but proud to be representing his Corps and his country with nothing but his arms to propel him the extreme distance. He was resolute and focused and not whining like I was. And here were his brothers carrying not only 40 pound packs but also…his legs.
I am not a crier. OK maybe if I’m watching a sad movie and I’m all alone I might, but if no one sees it, did it really happen? But I cried, I ran and I cried because it hit me hard what he had lost. He would never run again, he would struggle to do simple tasks in a world designed for fully mobile people and he was only in his twenties. He had no doubt been as fit as the manly men running at his four corners in formation. And those guys, running in so much gear and in military boots and carrying huge packs, and his legs, carrying his legs. Running for him, for their brother, for the ideal that their service represents to them and to this country. I just have no words for this, it was too real.
I was torn between admiration for these young men and shame over my weakness and pathetic lack of grit. I quickly passed them and ran on the rest of the race. And rather than a two mile distraction that experience became a ten year inspiration because since then, anytime I feel like I can’t finish, that my particular problem of the day is too hard, I think about that Marine, and his brothers in arms, and I shake my head in wonder at myself. Of course, I can finish this, he did. They did.
This community of people who are seeking to make sense of their finances, to escape regimented unfulfilling jobs, to travel, to be frugal, to live unconventionally but to fully live, remind me of those marines quite often. There are so many who prove by example, like the wheelchair Marine racer, that no matter the mountain of debt towering over you there is hope and there is victory that you can grind your way through to if you have a plan and if you persevere. And like the Marines running alongside there are so many here who will inspire and encourage you when you are tired and sore or maybe just need a good thump on the head because you are not facing reality.
I hope you see that this is not an exercise in equivalency. What wounded warriors have given to this country is in a class of its own and we aren’t their equals in any shape or any form. But using great people to make good examples does not cheapen their sacrifice. We need extraordinary people to inspire us in life and that is all I am doing here, honoring them. And to the many of you who have served this country, thank you for your service, we so appreciate it.
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Awesome story and the message of brotherhood, perserverance, and sacrifices is so true for these guys. That’s a great experience to have and it’s awesome you shared it. Thanks
Thanks so much Josh, it was just one of those “right place, right time” moments that life hands you sometimes that are unforgettable.
Extraordinary post Steve.
During my one and only 10k many years ago, I passed a guy strapped in a wheelchair who could only use his toes to propel himself. I would guess he had severe cerebral palsy.
He inched along at less than 1 mph. I remember
waves of people engulfing him, cheering him and then moving on with a smile.
Amazing, there is real courage on display in life and I think it is very fortunate when you get to witness it. It puts what I think of as major discomforts and disappointments into perspective when you see people heroically triumph over huge impediments. Thanks for sharing.
Very inspiring story. When you put what most of us complain about in perspective to others it seems like the things we worry about our trivial. I might be wishing I had a newer smartphone for instance when there are people who would be happy with any phone at all.
The financial journey is not a competition but your own path. I could be jealous of people who are way ahead financially than me and I know others would love to be in my position. If you keep comparing yourself to others you won’t be happy. And know there are others who would gladly trade places with you.
That is very true. I have never envied my billionaire friends. One is almost exactly my age, has a devastatingly beautiful and brilliant wife, good kids, great health and athletic ability and his own jet of course. But all that comes with a huge load of responsibility. On balance I like my life better than his and he feels the same way about his life. I think a good measure of contentment is whether you can think of anyone you would rather be than yourself. If not then you are there!
He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother is playing in my head now. A song that makes me weep. 🎶
Such a sobering experience. I’ve never known the hardships these men have endured, financial or otherwise. But I do appreciate how good I’ve got it, even if I have to remind myself of it once in a while.
Thanks for sharing.
Sure Mrs. G, it is beyond comprehension. I didn’t do the moment justice because I don’t have the words or the talent to touch what that looked like, or felt like. Few things in my life have ever overwhelmed me like this did. Always an honor to have you stop by!
you’re a good writer, steveark. “i cried because i had no shoes until i met a man with no feet.” – unknown.
This is an awesome post. It reminds us of the sacrifices others have made for our freedom and how his squad buddies standing by him is a shining example of how there are good people around us, something to admire and also be sure to enact into our own actions. Feeling very inspired. Thanks
Thank you! It was so hard to write, I wanted to do those guys justice, to honor them. And I felt I honestly did not have the words or the talent to do it right.
Thank you for sharing your experience. It’s easy to get trapped inside our own problems; it’s harder to look outside ourselves to see what others are dealing with and to realize how good we have it. I’m moved by your account, and how you brought that inspiration back to what we do in the PF community.
No question, sometimes life just kind of grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you. As much as I do not particularly like running it has taught me a few things and put me in a place to observe things I otherwise might not have.
I’m inspired, because I completely agree about how actions from others have a great impact on us and our finances. I remember the time I was cursing my parents for doing the opposite of what I had suggested them about money issues solving, but then years later, it all worked out in my favor. They were looking at my future…
Parents can be so much smarter than we give them credit for! Thanks Jill.