Going the distance?

Marathon Man

By Rick Horowitz

I know what you're thinking: You're thinking there's a letdown. You're thinking I'm so thoroughly immersed in the ups and downs of presidential politics that my post-election existence must be one great big empty.

You're wrong.

I appreciate the concern, but there's more to life (even my life) than strategies and policies and polls. In fact, that was true even during the campaign, even during the last frantic weeks of the campaign. I read a couple of good books. Watched a movie or two.

And I ran in the Chicago Marathon.

No, really! I ran in the Chicago Marathon. This was back in October, but I'm still kind of proud of it. I'd never run in a marathon before, in Chicago or anywhere else. I won't tell you I finished -- 26 miles, 385 yards is a long haul for anyone. But I ran farther than I ever expected to run. And I was really pleased with my time.

Thirteen seconds.

Especially since I hadn't figured on running in the marathon at all. But it seemed like the only way to get my cell phone back.

See, I'd lost my cell phone in Chicago. (That's not nearly as romantic as losing my heart in San Francisco, I realize. It's also a lot less convenient.) I'd lost the phone during a business trip a few days earlier; somebody found it and actually called me -- after I got back to Milwaukee. It had turned up in the John Hancock Building; that's where she works, the woman who called, in that enormous tower right on Michigan Avenue, in a little restaurant downstairs. (Not that I'd been anywhere near the John Hancock Building, but that's another matter -- apparently my phone is better at roaming than I ever imagined.) Anyway, she said she'd have her boss put the thing in safe keeping for me, and I arranged to drive back down to Chicago the following Sunday to pick it up.

It was a perfect day for a drive -- wonderful weather, hardly any traffic, and I made great time all the way in. Until I got near downtown. Suddenly, there were all these police cars blocking the streets, and lots of wooden sawhorses. I figured it was road construction. I figured I'd ditch the car a few blocks west of Michigan and go the rest of the way on foot.

The problem was 80,000 other feet. That's right: 40,000 runners pouring down Wells Street. Just my luck: I'd merely stumbled across the largest marathon in the United States! (That's what the policeman told me, anyway.)

This was near the 11-mile mark, it turns out, and there were plenty of other people on the sidewalk, too, cheering for their friends, cheering for total strangers. An endless stream of total strangers. It was very inspiring -- but I needed to get my cell phone. I needed to get to the Hancock Building.

"How long is this going to go on?" I asked the policeman.

"Another half-hour at least," he said.

I must have looked the way someone looks who's just driven all the way from Milwaukee to Chicago in a real hurry, and finds out he has to stand on a street corner for a long time watching a bunch of highly motivated skinny people go by.

Finally, the policeman comes back over to me.

"Are you a runner?" he asks.

"I run," I say. (That's not a complete lie.) "I don't run marathons."

"Look," he says under his breath, "Don't do it near me, but if you see a break in the pack, and you can kind of angle your way across..."

I thanked him -- quietly -- and moved a discreet distance away from him. Then I watched, and I waited. And I made my move. In my khakis and my sport shirt. In my street shoes. A few heart-pounding seconds later, I was on the other side of Wells. I hadn't tripped over anybody. Nobody had tripped over me.

In ten minutes, I had my phone back. Ten minutes more, and I was back at Wells -- where the runners were still going by! By now, though, I was an experienced marathoner; if I could cross the street from northwest to southeast, I could certainly cross it again, from northeast to southwest, and that's just what I did. I even cut a second off my time.

Next year, I think I'll try Boston.

Posted 11/18/04. Rick sets the pace with award-winning commentary twice every week -- tell the neighbors!

Rick Horowitz is a syndicated columnist, TV commentator, writing coach and public speaker.

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