Early on a recent Sunday morning, I walked to the train station. It was a beautiful day, and I was meeting my son Will in the city. I carried a big plastic bag with me; in it were handmade pieces of love.
I was on my way to watch Will’s girlfriend, Holly, run the Chicago marathon. I had crafted posters in her favorite colors, red and green, (with feathers no less!), to hold when she ran by. They were rolled up in my bag, along with posters for my nephew Alex, who was also running.
I have lived in the Chicago area for all of my adult life, but I’d never been to a marathon. I’ve known friends who have run it, friends who have volunteered at it and friends who simply went to watch the spectacle. Finally, it was my turn. Holly, Alex, and Will gave me reason to go.
It was awesome. So many people lining the streets, on the “el”, in Grant park. So much energy, everywhere. It was a little overwhelming, but I loved it.
We were able to track Holly and Alex by using an app. Will had discussed with Holly where he thought we might watch her run past, and we tried to find her as many times as we could. It was not easy!
The course was a circuitous route through every corner of the city. We walked from el station to marathon spot to el station to marathon spot, rinse and repeat, several times. I loved every minute of being with my son, having him shepherd me to the designated cheering site and tolerate my enthusiasm when we caught glimpse of Holly. It was exciting and I was proud. But also, as I mentioned, a little overwhelmed. So many people!
(Unfortunately, my nephew Alex was too speedy for us to catch; we just couldn’t find him. But he knew we were trying our best, fighting the crowds and cheering for him nonetheless.)
I had several friends with family members and friends running. My phone was ablaze with texts updating us on locations, runners’ status and cheering locations. I felt like a part of something iconic, something Chicago, something “bucket list.” And I wasn’t even running.
Holly did great. She finished her race running. When we found her afterward, she was wrapped in a tin-foil blanket, medal around her neck, smile spread ear to ear. I was so proud of her and of my son, for supporting his girlfriend with so much pride and love, and for allowing me to share in this moment.
The marathon was overwhelming, and I didn’t even run it! I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
— Kelly Abate is a contributing columnist. Readers can email her at [email protected].
