A Firsthand Account of the Portland Marathon

Photo courtesy of Maggie Feinberg

The Portland Marathon took place last Sunday, with more than 3,000 people getting up early to start running the streets of Portland at 7:00am. The route went by many of the sights of Portland including the riverfront, the Moda Center, OMSI, Chinatown, and the ever-famous Portland sign. At 18 miles in, the runners passed through Reed College, where Reedies could observe and cheer on the runners as they ran past Eliot Hall, Old Dorm Block, and Kaul Auditorium. 

At around 9:30am, I put on my running clothes and followed the echoes of cheering to the race. The participants, well into their excursion, were lathered with sweat and breathing in a soft off-tempo chorus. Many had capriciously thrown their shirts to the wind as the perfect sunny mid-fifties weather started to feel rather warm. I tagged along with the runners as they made their way back out of Reed. The organizers of the Marathon made sure to take care of the runners, speckling the streets with frequent water stations, which, upon drinking from, I realized contained electrolytes and sugar with a light, lemony taste. Porta Potties were also available, something not to be understated considering the plights suffered from a high metabolism rate for four or more hours. But the real support came from the onlookers. 

Around every corner were families clanging cowbells, cheering, and holding up signs. Some signs said “tap here for a power up” with a picture of a Mario mystery block or mushroom, allowing runners to connect with their supporters by tapping their poster, acknowledging their encouragement. Other people decided to make some humorous signs such as “Just finished my Netflix marathon!” and “You make a quarter-life crisis look HOT!” Kids were handing out snacks and drinks. One girl had a lemonade stand-esque table set up with an assortment of pickles. A runner in front of me veered his path as if magnetically drawn, and snatched one up to have a good munch. Other people offered beer instead of water for people who needed something extra to get through this behemoth. For a couple seconds I ran through the Rocky theme song, another few a live drum performance, then just the ambient footfalls of perseverance. 

Groups of people each had their own ways of helping the runners. I was traveling through a patchwork of the community, each patch different but coming together to create a complex collage. A collage of love and kindness that empathized with the work the runners put into the marathon long before the start gun was fired. A community that knows the long hours of training during the week and weekends, through rain, snow, sweltering heat, and dark skies, and that understands the strength of will to decide to run 26.2 miles and to stay by that decision for months of preparation. As the finish line grew closer, onlookers became more and more dense, packing along the borders of the race, and each runner crossed into the arms of Portland.