Pat O’Connor
The Mind of the Middle-Aged Marathoner
Saturday, August 14, 1971

My brother, Mike, successfully completed the Portland, Oregon Marathon last October. Running 42 kilometers nonstop is a notable achievement for any 42 year old, but it may be more notable for the effect it is having on his siblings. Ginny, our eldest sister who is turning 49 in December, called and said “I’m thinking about running a marathon.” It didn’t take long for me to be convinced that my mid-life crises would only be enhanced by joining Ginny in hers. It also would be significantly cheaper than buying a convertible BMW Roadster Z3 like my buddy Rod did. Beyond that, I can’t let Mike have bragging rights for too long. Why? Well, I am his older brother (by 360 days). Moreover, while I haven’t run a marathon in more than 20 years, I have always been considered the marathoner in our family.

In 1971 I finished my first marathon, the Paavo Nurmi in Hurley, Wisconsin. I was 13 years old. I remember it as a great experience for three reasons. First, I had never been that far away from my home in Saginaw, Michigan. Second, I finished the race and my friend Paul, who beat me in races of every other conceivable distance, did not. Third, and most importantly at the time, I was on TV! I now think my 30 second interview on the local news as the 1970’s equivalent of a 1990’s appearance on the Jerry Springer show. At the time, even a one mile jog was considered peculiar. Talk about helping TV viewers feel good about themselves by presenting a human oddity. Their comments were probably along the lines of “Honey, look at this – at least our Billy will never be as strange as this child marathoner.”

Well that strange child is now an adult, and he is planning to win back the family’s marathon bragging rights. All that remains is for me to finish a marathon one second ahead of Mike’s time which, come to think of it, was run on a very flat course in cool weather. Wish me luck. I’ll need it!