Be Authentic

(originally published November 15, 2015. My original blog, on Wordpress, was hacked in early 2016. All of the original posts, through January 2016, have been re-posted here on Blogger.)

I ran the Athens Marathon and lived to tell about it. Not everyone is so lucky. Certainly not Pheidippides, the Greek messenger who ran the original route 2,500 years ago.  Pheidippides (try saying that three times fast), so the legend goes, ran all the way from Marathon to Athens, a distance of some 25 miles, to announce that the Greeks emerged victorious over the Persians on the Marathon battlefield. Pheidippides reached the Athenian assembly, proclaimed, "We have won," and then promptly collapsed and died.

Not an auspicious beginning for what has become the world's most popular long-distance race. In fairness, Pheidippides had several strikes against him. Unlike most modern marathoners, he hadn't trained for such a long run. He started the run immediately after having fought a battle to the death with the Persians. He didn't get to wear a dry-fit t-shirt, shorts, and specially designed running shoes. In fact, he ran the entire distance in full battle gear.

Even worse, he had no water stations along the route, no isotonic drink, no energy gel, no medic stations, and no cheering fans to urge him on. It's hardly surprising that he didn't survive the run. What is surprising is that he managed to complete it at all.

Compared to Pheidippides, I had it pretty easy. Just one week ago, I followed the same course he did. The modern marathon is about 26.2 miles (or 42.2 kilometers), just a bit longer than the original route. It was hard enough with the energy gel, water stations and my favorite running shoes. I can't imagine how he ran it with no training, no support system, and weighed down by a heavy uniform.

The organizers have entitled the modern incarnation the "Athens Authentic Marathon." "Authentic" perfectly captures the feeling of this race. There is, of course, the sense of history. Not unlike Israel, everywhere you turn in Greece you will find reminders of a glorious past thousands of years old. When I ran the Jerusalem Marathon in March, I also encountered history with virtually every step.

At the starting line in Marathon with 17,000 other runners

The difference with the Athens Marathon was that the history I encountered with every step was all about the marathon itself. I started off – along with about 17,000 other runners – just steps from the Marathon battlefield where the Greeks fought the Persians over two millennia ago.

Each kilometer I completed was the same kilometer Pheidippides had run. When I started running uphill at kilometer 20 only to discover that the hill kept going and going and going until around kilometer 32 (approximately 7 1/2 miles), I imagined what it must have been like to do that in an ancient Greek military costume (Ultimately, I couldn't imagine; I had enough trouble in shorts and a t-shirt). As I came to the end of the race after several hours of running – or torture, depending on one's perspective – I crossed the finish line inside the Panathenaic Stadium, the site of the first modern Olympics in 1896 and reconstructed from what had remained of an ancient Greek stadium.

After Athens, any other marathon is just a 26.2 mile/42.2 kilometer distance that happens to take place in one locale or another. But Athens isn't a marathon – it is the marathon. It is the course. All the others are copies. Athens is, as the organizers say, authentic.

When I run a marathon, many thoughts dart in and out of my head. After all, traversing 42.2 kilometers offers lots and lots of time to think. At some point around kilometer 25, I started reflecting on what this course represented, and how it felt different – more authentic – then other marathons. Suddenly, I remembered a slogan I had seen on someone's t-shirt while running the Geneva Marathon back in May:

RUN YOUR OWN RACE

In running and in life, "run your own race" sums up what it means to be authentic. Athens feels authentic because it is not like any other race – it just is – and it came before all the others that copied it.

While pondering how essential it is to "run your own race," a guy well into his 70s barreled past me, and then sped off into the sunset with no sign of slowing down. For a second, I felt annoyed and a bit defensive. How can it be, I thought, that a guy at least a quarter century older than me is running that fast?

Coming in for the finish
at the Panathenaic Stadium

Then I remembered: run your own race. I wasn't running his race. I was running my race. Maybe I'll learn to run faster someday. Maybe I'll improve to the point that I'll be running that fast when I'm in my 70s. Or maybe not. Whatever my pace, my job isn't to be him, but to be me.

That's what the Athens Marathon is all about. That's what authenticity is all about. Too often in life, we are trying too hard to be like someone else, or to be the person we think other people want us to be. We forget that our job is to be who we were meant to be – as authentically as we can.

Run your own race. At that moment, I realized I wasn't running the same race as that guy in his 70s. I wasn't even running Pheidippides' race, even though I was taking the same route. I was running the race that only I could run. Maybe slower than some, faster than others, but uniquely mine.

Think of the people you know in any field who are the most successful. It's a good bet they are running their own race, living their own life – being authentic.

_________________________

I am running these five marathons for the amazing children and adults at the Israel Sport Center for the Disabled. We have set a goal of $5,000. Every donation of any amount makes a difference. Click here if you want to help us get to the finish line!