1. The Marathon (Part one of my Grecian Epic)

Often on some of my longer runs the thought would cross my mind that running a marathon is something inherently contradictory to the American psyche. I realize how cliché it sounds to typify Americans as impatient, always on the move, short attention span, in need of quick results, etc. In fact, maybe this is just the predicament of modern man, regardless of nationality, trained to expect an ever quickening world thanks to our technological improvements. The true reason is of little consequence though. All I know is my mind is not apt to this kind of thing. It’s wasn’t just the distance of a singular run, but the length of training, 7 months in total, and the numbing repetition of the same route and the same lengths, day after day. I got impatient and bored on my long runs, and I became sick of training. My legs came to be able to withstand the physical difficulties, but my mind had trouble running for three and a half hours. Due to my circumstances, I was unable to follow conventional wisdom and “change up my route”. Moldovan villages are one road towns. So my only option was to preserve. Towards the end of training I began thinking about how I could literally run this route blindfolded. I knew how to mark tenth’s of miles by tree branches and personal markers. Aside from the ever changing landmines of animal waste, I knew every crack in the road, every incline and decline and what followed it. I knew how much time I had left simply by what clustering of trees I past. I had gained an intimate knowledge of the process and all it entailed.

What a marathon truly is is the kung fu of running. Kung fu is often a term synonymous with martial arts, however this translation is not exactly correct. Kung fu actually translates to skill through hard work. Kung fu can truly be anything; the kung fu of cooking, the kung fu of knitting, the kung fu of running. Kung fu is achieved through daily repetition of certain activities until one becomes skillful, or well versed in that particular activity. Variety may be the spice of life, but without numbing repetition is hard to truly become good at any one thing.

Many times throughout the training process I came back to a particularly thought. The only point at which I may truly enjoy the Peace Corps and Marathon is after the fact. There were definitely moments of extreme satisfaction, often fleeting, after completing a project or having a particularly good run, but those were spaced between a chasm of days filled with monotony, minor setbacks, and tons of doubt. Now, I am unsure of that thought. Gratification may come at the finish, but the satisfaction comes from mastering the process. Having completed the Marathon, I am starting to feel that these types of achievements are the only things really worth doing. It’s hard for me to adapt my mind to this. My curiosity instinctively has me reaching out to all matters of disciplines and hobbies. I often want to try too much, but only do so in a superficial matter. I need more kung fu in my life. I need to learn to be selective in finding a few things and just doing them exceptionally well. This is the lesson of the marathon for me. This is a lesson of Peace Corps. For me, the reward was not crossing the finish line; that was the result. The reward was learning to build a body of work, day by monotonous day, ignoring the setbacks and failures and accepting what I could achieve.