How earbuds have changed us

ETIQUETTE

What have we lost? Earbuds have changed the way runners cheer each other on

BY GINGER BROCKMAN

I ran Grandma’s 41st marathon this year. It was a wonderful time. I have decided that this would be my last (and eighth) full marathon. I have run seven other marathons, but that was over 15 years ago. For me, training for a full marathon is just too much time consumption at my “level of maturity.” It is a huge time commitment to do it justice. Everything revolved around my running schedule for at least three months minimum. Besides, my heart is in the half marathon.

The marathon was a great ending to a great start. The conditions couldn’t have been more perfect. It was a cool, sunny morning after a light rain. There was a nice breeze off the lake as we all ran. I met a few nice people before the race, but there was something missing from 15 years ago and it didn’t take 26.2 miles to figure it out.

I ran Grandma’s Marathon in 2000 and 2001. They were both very enjoyable events where we ran, talked, shared and encouraged each other through the event. They were wonderful times. There were many running in costume and lots of celebration. So much has changed. We all used to encourage each other on the course. We’d all tell each other they were doing great and to “work that hill”. I learned more about running from others while running than I ever did in any book or blog. It was a 26.2 mile social event.

The 2017 Grandma’s marathon was a huge number of runners all tuned into their ear buds. They didn’t cheer each other on. They didn’t encourage one another. They ran in their own isolated world between their ears. To me, it was a horrible tragedy. They missed so much. There were spectators who came to wish us all well. In fact, that was the reason some were there, not to cheer on anyone specific, just anyone and everyone. There were countless children along the route just waiting for a high five or a fist bump from one of the “amazing” marathoners. Bands were playing. There were musicians of all kinds along the route. It was a celebration of community for us all. They were there specifically for us. It was very humbling for me.

I tried to strike up conversations with fellow runners and it worked a few times. We had a few nice chats. Other people were so isolated into their tunes they never even heard me say hi. If all we are going to do is run in our self-induced isolation, why even bother to run an organized run? I could have stayed home in Nebraska and run 26.2 miles alone in the quiet Sandhills. That’s what those long training runs are for.

I think I now know why the MDRA membership numbers are dwindling. Community is almost gone. A lot of people just run in isolation, even in a group of 9,000 other people. It’s absolutely tragic to me. We have lost so much.

Who is going to tell the new runners to run relaxed and look way down the road to improve their time? Who will take the time to explain why they are wearing compression sleeves and what they eat for breakfast the morning of the marathon? Who is going to share how to handle “stitches”, shin splints, sciatica and other maladies? Who will encourage the next generation of runners if we don’t? Will there even be a next generation of runners?

I had a ballet teacher who once said, “Art ceases to be art when it is not shared.” Most of us will never win a marathon, or even place. Our biggest competitor is our personal best. We compete with ourselves. Why not spend that time on the course helping another? What are we giving back to the sport that has given us so much?

Fifteen years ago we were a community of runners from a few hundred in Rochester to 35,000 in Chicago. We were all there for each other. We laughed, we talked, we exchanged information and we made new friends. Is it too late, or because this is in the MDRA magazine, am I just preaching to the choir? See you in the half marathons. I’m the one talking, laughing and waving to the crowd. This is life, get some on ya’.