My Kid Brother’s Running the Marathon!

Nearly three years ago when I ran the marathon in Phoenix, my brother was there to cheer me on. He flew all the way from Boulder, CO to drive around in a car all day with our parents and Husband. The idea of the marathon was still eccentric to all four of them; they considered my endeavor a flukey one-off (indeed, so did I when I first started training). I remember him there, at Mile 20, jumping in and running a few miles with me and KM–he made all the difference and transformed what could have been twenty dreadful minutes into one of the most unforgettable moments of the day.

A couple of years ago IK sent me an email in which he told me I was his inspiration to begin training for triathlons. Nuttiness! Me, the family clutz who until a few years ago thought the only activity worth sweating for was sex–how could I possibly be an inspiration for someone to set athletic goals? And yet, there it was. And this year, he had his most challenging year, competing in multiple triathlons which culimated in a strong performance at the Boulder Peak Triathlon this July.

So last year I persuaded him to put his name in the lottery for the ING New York City Marathon and wouldn’t you know it he got in! (Shocker, since he’s from out of state and all.) Due to various yadda-yaddas he decided to defer his registration until this year, which ultimately worked out just perfectly since it meant I would be able to cheer him on. He flew in Friday night. On my way to the airport to pick him up, I got all teary and choked up thinking about how hard he’d trained, what he was about to undertake, and about all that I’d forsaken this year to my injuries. It was a scratchy combination of excitement, joy and pain; I couldn’t wait to just hug my little brother so hard and make it all even out. (NB: I say “little” brother but you know he’s six inches taller than I am with these nice broad shoulders. He’s 19 months younger than I am, that’s the thing.)

I tended my brother as best I could, doling out pasta dinners and pre-race bromides like some strange mother/coach hybrid. He had a touch of a cold which had been brought on by the sudden dry, cold weather in Lafayette, CO the week leading into his big race. On Saturday I left him to sleep in while I went for my marathon weekend run, a 10k over the 59thStreet Bridge and back during which, for sentimental reasons, I paced myself for the speed I ran in the 2008 NYC Marathon (8:59).  Soon enough IK and I were headed into the city to the Expo (I drove him in because there was too much walking involved with the subways). During the drive, we’d spot the occasional group of people dressed as vampires, naughty nurses, or Michael Meyers–funny reminders that the rest of the city would be partying while 40,000 marathoners would be doing their best to sleep up good. Finally we were queued up to get Lil Bro his bib and race packet. As perky as I sometimes am is as mellow as my brother is (if you can imagine such a thing), so he just stood there grinning down at me as I alternated between hugging him and ping-ponging around like Tigger; I was so excited for him! Soon enough he had his packet and we were strolling the floor of Jacob Javits. Talk about mood swings! Disappointment hit me like a hammer, and as I stood with the Asics store in sight I felt my face get hot and tears well up. I remembered the perfection of last year; I cursed my adductor brevis and my hamstrings. I imagined 2010, I summoned up my brother’s race, I thought of all the elites in the field, and my excitement for my favorite day of the year (well, after my birthday) returned.

Back home, I whipped us up a tasty lunch (arugula salad with turkey breast, dried cranberries, sliced fennel, chopped tomato, slivered almonds and with a big hunk of French bread on the side) . He went out for an easy two-miler around my Sunnyside Loop; he watched Kill Bill and Napoleon Dynamite. I hovered over Lil Bro, urging him to drink more water, helping him pin on his number, ink his name on his shirt, pack his bag for the morning.  How he didn’t strangle me I have no idea; he and Husband both were laughing at me as I kept blurting out bits of advice. I gave him the list of the three points where I’d be with Mom and Dad to cheer him on–he could memorize them while he waited to go to his corral.

I can tell you what he was feeling–nervous, tired, a little concerned that he was still feeling sick from that cold, and crazy-curious about what exactly 26.2 miles would be like. But I saw none of that. I just saw my kid brother (appropriately, a little skinnier than usual), who in my eyes had already won the race. I was so proud of him and he hadn’t even run the damn thing! I knew he could do it; I fell asleep hoping he believed it too.

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