The Real Reward of Running

All but numb from the 47-degree chill along Carefree Highway outside Phoenix, Arizona, we welcomed the salubrious sun as it finally broke through the scattered morning clouds. Nervous chatter filled the cold air among the throng of runners, ranging the gamut from seasoned veterans to the anxious first-timers like me. Yes, December 5, 1978, had finally arrived with the starting gun about to fire for the beginning of the Fiesta Bowl Marathon. From the moment I had spotted that ad in the Arizona Republic's sports section in October for this athletic event, a compelling self-confidence began to well up within me that drew me to the challenge of entering and completing my first marathon. So, there I shivered, awaiting the bang to begin what would be one of the most cherished days of my life.

Suddenly, the shuffle began. Flopping shoes. Pulmonary panting. Light conversation. These are a few of the sounds one hears as committed runners begin a pilgrimage of the pavement that will eventually separate the 'I-hope-I-can's from the 'I-really-did-it's. Random thoughts race through the mind during such an undertaking...

"Oh, I shouldn't have eaten so much this morning!"

"I could have stayed in my warm bed this morning!"

"What in the world am I doing here?!"

"Are we there, yet?!"

However, they plod onward in search of the Holy Grail of personal achievement, something that a marathon can and does provide every finisher.