Giving Thanks is a Marathon Not a Sprint (Katie)

 “Try not to let the Race adrenaline trick you into going faster than you should in the beginning. Go slower than is comfortable and let runners pass you by. The point is to have something left in the last several miles, in order to finish the Race.” Rob, a friend, is telling our daughter Laura as they discuss their NYC Marathon strategy for the next day.

 “Huh, funny, I guess that’s why they say, ‘It’s a marathon not a sprint’,” she replied, smiling.

Rob knew what he was talking about since this was his 6^th Marathon. Both Rob and Laura were coming off injuries that prevented them from being fully prepared, so the advice was especially important. Expectations needed to be adjusted.

As my children well know, I have always loved the marathon metaphor: staying constant and steady, focused on the bigger picture, the long term outlook or ultimate goal, at your own speed, living in the present, while being true to yourself. A tall order in general, but especially when constantly confronted with a culture consumed by the need for speed, even in our access to information and the immediate gratification we’ve come to expect. Faster is better, finishing first is tantamount and as the holidays approach “beating the rush” is more than a marketing slogan.

It’s not a leap for me to apply the metaphor to Thanksgiving. We have all been at a Thanksgiving table at one time or another, maybe every year, where the suggestion is made: “Let’s go around the table and say what we are each thankful for…”

I admit I have never felt comfortable when the question is posed because I’m not quite sure what to say or where to start. Somehow, a sweeping, general statement seems in order, about love and family togetherness or friendships that have stood the test of time, but this glosses over countless specific kindnesses and characteristics of each person at the table or the myriad of small details that add up to events that mark milestones in our lives during the last year. The question favors a sprint mentality, getting to the finish line, no time to notice the scenery along the way. Real, sustained gratitude feels diminished.

The truth is I haven’t actually stopped long enough to appreciate all the small kindnesses and efforts that have come my way; I’d need to prepare ahead of time in order to do justice to giving thanks in the moment. Maybe focusing on noticing the small stuff is so important to me because I’m not very good at it. As Meb and Joan point out, “…the bottom line…” is at the beginning of a lot of my sentences.

There’s also the “problem” of an embarrassment of riches: too many blessings, a blessing in itself. The perspective from which many of us give thanks is built on a foundation of abundance. Ken Woodward, writer and editor, said about miracles that they “…are gifts freely bestowed and altogether unmerited.” And so it is true of many of the gifts of our lives. The country and circumstances of our birth give way to the ripple effect of opportunity that follows, for education, jobs and financial stability. We don’t have to look further than the daily newspaper to feel that “…there but for the grace of God (or luck, or the cosmos, depending on your point of view) go I.” In this context “I’m thankful for…” feels a bit understated. What is the vocabulary for the big game changers we fortuitously stumble into?

And yet, there is another perspective most of us also come from. Good fortune has never inoculated any of us from the difficulties, sometimes tragedies, of the human condition. It is here at the crossroads of knowing how good life can be and how challenging it is at times that gratitude especially flourishes. Anyone who has come out the other side of a long illness, or seen a small light at the end of a long tunnel of grief, or overcome other trials has experienced this.

Jim and I spent much of Marathon Sunday watching runners from various vantage points.  We saw the elite runners as they approached the finish line in Central Park.  Then, we moved to see the masses of runners as they turned up 1^st avenue after crossing the Queensboro Bridge. At this point they had been running seventeen miles and were met with a 20 mile an hour head wind. The crowds, three and four deep up and down the avenue, cheered them on - by name if they had one on their shirts somewhere - screaming encouragement. “Keep it up!” and “you can do it!” filled the unseasonably cold air. Occasionally a runner would spot a friend in the crowd and come over for a hug and a high five. Rob and Laura intersected at this point with Rob giving Laura a pep talk to get her over the hump.

A fleeting thought of Boston crossed my mind as we squished into and stood with the crowd. Nearly half the runners were to have run the race last year when it was cancelled in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. We spotted runners from countries around the world and wounded veterans participating in the hand cycling division of the race: 50,000 runners, all connecting around a common and lofty goal, one step at a time.

While he probably had more than marathon running in mind, GK Chesterton said “…gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder,” a sentiment many of these runners must have experienced at the end of the race as they looked back across twenty six miles and the hours it took to finish.

The point is the journey itself, of course, and those we are privileged to travel with. This Thanksgiving, I’ll have given more thought to the depth and detail of the appreciation I really do feel. When the last person finds her way to the table and we raise our glasses in thanksgiving, though a simple “thank you” seems inadequate, I’ll recognize better my own happiness and wonder in the bounty that surrounds me. 

May each of you, enjoy a Thanksgiving filled with blessings and surrounded by those you love. (Katie)