Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes: The Poetry of Running

(Photo taken today at 9:45am by Nicole Speulda)

This morning I witnessed the 34th running of the Marine Corps Marathon, 26.2 grueling miles from Arlington, VA through DC, back across the 14th street bridge and ending back in Arlington. I did not run, but was a part of the overwhelming fan base that amassed around 9am for the pre-running activities, which included cheering on the early-to-start racers, most of them soldiers who have lost limbs and pump their arms using sanctioned hand bikes. You want inspiration on a Sunday morning? Watch people without limbs complete a marathon with their hands and some small help with wheels.

But this marathon isn’t closed to people who have served our country. The MCM, nicknamed “the people’s marathon,” is open to all top runners and those among the general public who are gung-ho enough to scramble to get a bib number before registration sells out, (trust me, this rivals concert ticket sales to any Hannah Montana/Miley concert). It’s one of the hottest tickets in town, to be part of the tens of thousands to start the race, and to be among the 21,000 to finish the race, especially when thousands don’t finish the race. It is fun to watch, to clap, to cheer on the masses, especially when someone you care about is in the fight.

The sheer size and numbers of people involved is a little overwhelming, but it’s only fitting given the origin of the marathon in the first place. Named after a town in Greece, which was the site of the battle of the Marathon in 490BC, this insane distance commemorates the efforts of a messenger, one guy named Phidippides who ran all the way from Marathon to Athens to report that the Athenian army had defeated the Persians. What I’d like to note here is that history has it that after running that distance, poor Phidippides keeled over and died right there on the spot, which is pretty much what I imagine my body would want to do were I in his—probably not so comfortable, air filled shoes.

I ran a half marathon once and it was back in the day I ran more and had a lot of scenery to carry me through, oh and my body was younger…but I digress. That said, cheering today and watching the effort people put in and knowing firsthand what people do over the course of many months to prepare for this day, I am in awe of the runners today who put in the physical and psychological effort to get through hours of enduring this course.

Today’s poems are dedicated to running or poems after running. The first is from Pindar, who wrote so beautifully about running in his “Victory Odes,” which were songs in praise of athletes. The second may surprise some…two small offerings from Kay Ryan, our current Poet Laureate. I didn’t know much about Ryan, especially since the Washington Post cut its “Poet’s Corner,” section, which used to be one of my favorite parts of the Sunday paper, but I was utterly shocked to see her featured on the back page of Runner’s World magazine’s October issue. This spot is usually dedicated to famous or semi/famous people who actually like to run. I have a newfound interest in her as a poet today and hope she continues to spread the news that running, like poetry can be good for the heart and mind.

Pindar’s "Olympian Ode 12", 460 BC

Great runner, four times victor at the Games,
But for a war you would have known no fame.
Though exiled from the bubbling springs of home,
Your swift pace made a new land's fields your own.

Kay Ryan, U.S. Poet Laureate

"Deferred Silence"

There is a
deferred silence
which only follows
a deferred sound.
As when an oak falls
when no one is around.
The violence waits
for someone to approach
to have just stopped.
There is that ozone
freshness to the aftershock.

The second Kay Ryan poem is based on her impressions after another trail run..

“Crown"

Too much rain
loosens trees.
In the hills giant oaks
fall upon their knees.
You can touch parts
you have no right to?
places only birds
should fly to.

The "Duck Boat" leading the motorcade that will guide runners through the course.  First racers are just behind.  This is where the spectators start cheering and the next hour gets exciting...