I am a runner. I always have been.
I find solace and challenge in the rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement. It's just me, my playlist, and time to think.
Admittedly, I have fallen off the wagon in recent months, but rest assured, I will be back running the streets again soon.
To be clear, there are sprinters, and there are runners. I am most certainly the latter and not the former.
If you were to race me in a sprint, you would undoubtedly win, as my short legs and slow-twitch muscles almost always leave me in last place, even when racing a parked car.
However, if we were to run anything more than a mile, you would be hard-pressed to keep up. I have a small frame and an unending motor that can run for hours without much drop-off. I have completed five half marathons and countless 10Ks, but I have yet to attempt the Holy Grail of long-distance running—a full marathon.
At some point in my life, I was in good enough shape and could knock out 15 miles or more, but I never went the final distance and attempted a marathon, which still haunts me.
There's still hope.
Dubbed "everyman's Everest," long-distance running, once a niche and grueling sport, has exploded in popularity over the past few decades. The most interesting thing is not how many people are running, but who is running.
According to a New York Times article, "Many of those who run marathons today are middle-aged or older, and some are less fit and less experienced. As a result, the average finish time in American marathons has slowed considerably, even as the top runners keep getting faster. It's a sign of how popular marathons have become."
This article states that the average finish time in the Boston Marathon 1924 was just under three hours. However, in the recent race held on Monday, the average finish time was nearly four hours, representing almost a 33% drop off. Interestingly, despite this trend, speed course records are set yearly.
The article suggests that many races are becoming less strict about entrants' credentials to attract more participants. This was the case for Andy Sloan, 36, who registered for his first marathon in Honolulu last year. Although he finished last, completing the course in 16 hours 59 minutes 39 seconds, Sloan found more meaning in the support from the cheering crowds than in hitting a specific goal time during his training.
"To feel supported the whole way, even though I was the last person on the course, felt really, really good," he told me. "Knowing that I took the time to set a goal, and worked really hard to achieve it, it did mean a lot to me."
Running is a unique activity that brings professional athletes and amateurs together on the same course and day. It's an opportunity for enthusiasts to stand alongside the pros and push toward the finish line, even if their times differ significantly.
Music and marathons share this quality in many ways. Although we may all play the same instruments and music, our performances are vastly different. Whether gifted or not, professional or amateur, we all have reasons for playing.
However, too often, we celebrate only the most accomplished musicians, forgetting about the rest of the ensemble. It's similar to how we only remember famous runners like Jim Fixx while overlooking other participants. We must remember that, as with marathons, the goal of music-making is not always to finish first but to persevere until the end.
As music educators, we often prioritize those who successfully cross the finish line of a program or graduation ceremony. While we take pride in those who have persevered and achieved, we should remember that over half of those who start do not reach the end. Moreover, we mistakenly treat graduation as the ultimate goal, when in reality, it is more comparable to a 10K race - a notable milestone but not the end of the journey towards a lifetime of musical creativity.
During an open forum with renowned marathon runner Jim Fixx, an amateur runner approached the microphone and marveled, "I can't comprehend how you can run so fast for three hours." Mr. Fixx responded with his own question, "I have no idea; how can you run for six hours?"
In athletics, as in life, there is a tendency to remember the professional who answers the question rather than the amateur who asked it.
Instead of solely celebrating the top ensembles, players, and performances, we should also focus on the youngest ensembles, weakest players, and worst performances. By doing so, we can equally recognize an ensemble's musicality and longevity.
As music educators, we excel at celebrating the best. However, we should also strive to remember to celebrate the worst and to encourage them never to stop trying to reach the same finish line.
Why not?
Wishing you a wonderful week ahead.
Scott