Sometimes it’s the little things that become big things just by igniting a spark.
You've probably read some of the stories and seen some of the videos. Someone running a marathon on their back deck, training on a 20 foot long balcony, running endless laps on a small rooftop or climbing the equivalent of Mt. Everest on a small flight of stairs. Despite the ways some of the world has shut down, runners and humans are finding ways to keep doing what they are doing and in the midst of a pandemic, discovering a new dimension of mental fortitude.
I consider myself lucky to still be able to run many places that I enjoy. My gym may be closed, but the trails and mountains are near.
However, as an act of solidarity, I felt the need to put myself in the shoes of those less fortunate that none the less are still pressing on. One. Step. At a time. I've had the idea of running a marathon on the upper level of my work's parking deck for several weeks now. It was important to incorporate UVA in some capacity into the run, so using our parking deck as a venue added a brief, but familiar place for those that came to watch. The parking deck was large enough for the laps to not be too cruel on my joints, but repetitive enough to still be a decent mental hurdle. Each lap was exactly 0.12 miles, just enough to be comfortable, and the abundance of space allowed for safe social distancing, should people come to watch. I actually bailed on the idea the previous weekend, but forced myself to inform my coworkers five days before this particular run to establish some accountability.
In reality, it was just an informal invitation that if the dozen or so members of my work team got bored enough, they could come watch me run circles, 219 of them to be exact, and leave whenever they got tired of the monotony. There wasn't much pomp and circumstance to it. I honestly figured there would be mild interest, but before I knew it the thought of getting out of the house, seeing coworkers for the first time in five weeks and doing something together, became the most exciting thing people had done in weeks.
“Race” morning finally arrived and I decided to have some fun and made a custom race bib. Afterall, you've got to make it official, right? I decided to go with the number 2420, which is the street address to our building. Coincidentally, it also represents the two classes at UVA most influenced by covid-19, the incoming class of ’24 and the graduating class of ’20. How about that unintentional symbolism for you?
So, I’ll keep the recap short. I started my run at 9:57am on April 18, 2020. It had just stopped raining and the parking deck was wet with several small puddles that I had to navigate around. 2 miles into the run my supervisor arrived and was the first one to cheer me on. Throughout the morning additional coworkers came with their children, spouses, with signs, snacks and goodies. The sun came out, the wind began gusting, but the energy was starting to grow. Familiar faces seeing familiar faces, and even with mouth coverings, you could still make out the huge smiles. People got to catching up, sharing their quarantine stories, and then that turned into singing, then dancing, then pure laughter.
I had completed 5k, then 10k, then 10 miles, then halfway done. What I had planned to do as a casual 9:00 minute pace quickly derailed with the extra energy and enthusiasm brought on by my UVA family. The pace dropped to below 8:00 and then held steady in the 7:40’s for the next 20+ miles. It was suprisingly easy, it was conversational, and most importantly, it was fun. At mile 18.4, my coworker's husband, David, joined me, and despite hitting a few of those small “walls” and fighting a 25 mph gust around every turn, that last hour breezed by quicker than any final hour of a marathon. By now, I had memorized every slight change in camber of the parking deck, every drain, every little crack, that one pebble in the South West corner, that one puddle that still hadn't dried yet. With the end in sight, my pacer and I talked about doing a kick to end the run strong, so when my gps ticked over to 25.2, with one mile to go, I started to press a little harder. With music blasting from the car of our marathon “DJ”, I got a little boost of energy and knocked out a 6:50 final mile. My coworkers even put together a finish line, so despite the fact it was just a made up event, it’ll go down in my history books as a marathon finish. Believe it, or not, that last mile of 6:50 was the fastest final mile I have ever run during a marathon, despite being 14 minutes off my personal best. Still, who can’t stop and smile at running a spur the moment 3:21 marathon of the top of a parking deck.
When it was all said and done, the day had very little to do about marathons and running. It was about not allowing the challenges in the current world stop you from doing the things you enjoy and despite all the social distancing barriers, we can still come together as a community to rally behind a unified cause. I believe that cause was less about cheering on a guy running laps around a parking deck and more about being in all of this together. My supervisor and teammates all agreed that our three hours together on a random sunny Saturday was the most fun they have had since this all began five weeks ago. That, in itself, was worth more than any official marathon medal.
As the days went by, the story took off. That spark grew. I’m glad people felt inspired and that in a time of such uncertainty and fear, that I could do something small for the betterment of morale, to make people smile, and provide the momentary comfort of our old normal. I’m nobody special, and that’s proof that anyone can be a bright spot in seemingly dark times.
Lest we forget. I’m just a regular dude that sometimes runs and shamelessy eats Taco Bell and Digiorno pizza. UVA is the home of many heroes during these times. They include the University leadership, medical staff, doctors, surgeons, nurses, engineers designing 3-D PPE, our donors, our medical students, first responders, facilities management, fellow Virginia Medical Reserve Corps members, and countless others.
“Only in the darkness can you see the stars” – Martin Luther King Jr. (Mountaintop speech, 1968)
