Philadelphia Marathon
Morris Klein

The 2002 Philadelpha Marathon was special for me for a lot of reasons, but two stand out in my mind.

I spent the night before the Marathon with my old high school friend, Adil. We hadn't seen each other in years and it was lots of fun catching up with him and reminiscing about the good old days. We watched old, beloved Dr. Who episodes together and also quizzed ourselves in SAT vocabulary.

Adil's brother, Ibrahim, was away at college so the family gave me his room for the night. As I was preparing for bed, I noticed a white yarmulke on the nightstand. When I looked on the inside of the yarmulke I read:

"In honor of the wedding of Sharon Smith and Mordechai..."

I remembered Sharon really well because we had both been members of our high school's Model United Nations club. We had even been chosen by our team captain to represent Japan on the "Security Council" during one session held in Princeton (we had placed third out of thirty or forty delegations). Now she was married and probably a bio-engineer, and I was waiting tables and running marathons.

The second thing I liked about that race was running through my old hometown, Philadelphia. I actually grew up in an obscure suburb with an unpronounceable Welsh name (think of 'yydych' and you'll get the idea), but Philadelphia was always my home city. I rooted for the Eagles and the Phillies and mourned with the rest of the city as they lost, and lost, and lost- year after year.

A famous runner once said that there's something magical about the streets of Philadelphia. I guess he's right, because I've never run a marathon as fast as I did that year. I felt that the city itself was gently pushing me to go faster, to run lighter and more freely. When I ran past Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell, I felt such joy. Here's where it all began- the essential idea of human rights that was so powerfully articulated by Thomas Jefferson in his great Declaration.

Philadelphia is a city of such stark contrasts- beautiful skyscrapers next to cardboard shantytowns, gracious museums and gardens sitting next to blocks and blocks of industrial fossils. It's a strange, haunting place.

Philadelphia marathon watchers are so encouraging and kind. At mile nineteen I slowed to a walk, exhausted and sad. I took an energy bar and ate half of it and immediately felt strong again. When I resumed running, a family of spectators roared with approval. I smiled at them and they smiled back with such open admiration for me.

The Philadelphia marathon was a wonderful chance for me to connect with both my own past and my country's history. And I was so happy to have had the opportunity to offer homage to my home city, ever-remarkable in its understated beauty.

Morris Klein Philadelphia - USA

About the author:

Morris is a member of the Sri Chinmoy Centre He works at a vegetarian restaurant and is an aspiring runner.