Wednesday, October 10, 2018 || By Michael Romain || @maywoodnews
Featured image: Quantrell Priest after completing the Chicago Marathon on Sunday. | Courtesy Chris Smith/Facebook
Galen Rupp, last year’s winner whose father grew up in Maywood, missed the mark this year at the 41st Bank of Chicago Marathon.
“My goal was to win,” Rupp said, according to the Chicago Sun-Times. “I ran the best I could today. I will go back and learn from it.”
That’s a lesson I took from another Maywood native, someone much closer in emotional and physical proximity — my longtime friend, Quantrell Priest. On Saturday, he completed his third Chicago Marathon, a feat that may have seemed foreign to him five or 10 years ago.
I still remember watching him run on our high school track team in shoes better suited for a pickup basketball game — and beating out the more appropriately dressed competition.
Countless miles later, he’s still running; nowadays, however, he’s only in competition with himself.
And aren’t we all?
I don’t run but as a writer and natural isolate, I take stock in its metaphors.
“Running day after day, piling up the races, bit by bit I raise the bar, and by clearing each level I elevate myself,” writes the novelist Haruki Murakami.
As he closed in on three quarters of the way to the finish line, and as I sat immobile at a desk, I text some inspiration to my good friend, and returned to looking at a white computer screen.
“Thanks bro calves on fire,” he text back, some moments later, teaching me a lesson through his pain.
Some paragraphs through a story, I felt the urge to show my gratitude and took to Google for an expression.
“No pain, no palm; no thorns, no throne; no gall, no glory; no cross, no crown.” VFP
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