Columnist Benjamin Grove: Marathoners take patriotic journey

Benjamin Grove

Friday, Nov. 2, 2001 | 5:11 a.m.

Benjamin Grove covers Washington, D.C. for the Sun. He can be reached at 202-628-3100, Ext. 269, or by e-mail at grove@lasvegassun.com.

WASHINGTON -- The annual Marine Corps Marathon held last Sunday offered runners a 26.2-mile tour of a capital city attacked by terrorists and besieged by anthrax -- but proudly defiant.

I had been training for my first marathon and was relieved that officials did not cancel the 26th annual run. In the end, race organizers decided that -- being the U.S. Marine Corps -- they could handle event security.

Runners in the starting area nodded greetings to machine gun-toting soldiers and bomb-sniffing dogs. We smiled at a patrolling helicopter hovering over the course. A support contingent of 2,000 Marines and civilians from Quantico Marine Base guarded the course -- and passed out water to thirsty runners.

A few minutes before the start, the Marine Corps band accompanied a soloist singing the "Star Spangled Banner." A runner near me dabbed a tear as she stretched.

Washington Mayor Anthony Williams fired the start cannon and we were off, sort of. I was near the back of the pack, and it took me five minutes to get to the starting line.

In the first mile I lost my fiancee Denise -- also running her first marathon -- in the crush of 15,000 runners. I was alone -- but not really.

Crowds of noisy race fans lined the route -- at times five and six people deep -- despite worries that a marathon that winds through the nation's capital makes for a ripe terrorist target.

Spectators waved U.S. flags -- a few runners carried them, too -- and people shouted encouragement.

I even heard one, "Way to go, G899." That was my bib number.

The race started in Virginia and by mile five had wound past the blasted side of the Pentagon. Viewing the destruction with the naked eye stirred emotions for many runners in a way that seeing television images cannot. The sight of the military fortress's bombed-out innards were horrifying and infuriating.

Some runners chanted "USA! USA! USA!" as they passed.

For the second time I saw runners dab tears. It's hard enough to run 26 miles with weary legs; harder still with a heavy heart.

We crossed the Francis Scott Key Bridge over the Potomac River and into Georgetown, mile nine.

Tourists looking to do a little shopping likely were irked to find an impassable river of runners. But it was reassuring to see the trendy, upscale area bustling, even with runners and boisterous race fans. Like Las Vegas, this city has been fighting to get tourists back.

By mile 16 the race, also dubbed "Marathon of the Monuments," had followed the north edge of the National Mall, past the Lincoln Memorial and near the White House. The race route also snaked near the Washington Monument and FDR Memorial, tributes to past presidents who led a troubled nation through war.

By mile 19 we had run around Capitol Hill and near the congressional office buildings where investigators have found traces of anthrax. Several buildings are still closed for testing.

By mile 20 the race had my knees in a vise. But spectators were screaming encouragement. And still waving flags.

I tried to tune out the rest of the race to keep my mind off achy joints.

To complete the Marine Corps Marathon, runners must conquer one final hill and circle around the Marine Corps War Memorial, which depicts the flag raising at Iwo Jima.

I finished in four hours, 26 minutes.

The race took me two hours longer than it took winner Farley Simon, a 46-year-old retired Marine sergeant. The world's elite runners avoid the race because the Corps offers no prize money. "The People's Marathon" is another race nickname.

The marathon metaphor is often used these days in Washington. Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld has said the war on terrorism is not a sprint but a marathon. Recovery for this city is a marathon; the nation's road back to "normal" is a marathon, our leaders say.

Now I know what they mean.