A Probably Unnamed, Definitely Unnecessary Story

FickShun21751 · 2024-11-10T20:00:57-05:00

1 I checked the Scranton Times-Tribune’s homepage for the story one last time before shutting down my laptop and leaving Penn Foster’s offices. Today is a run commute day. I slide my laptop into my running pack and head to the bathrooms to change. “It’s Mr. Olympian! How many miles today, Jared?” My boss, the head of the Customer Service Department, Chris Ryder was exiting the men’s room as I rounded the corner to enter. “Just a short one. Maybe 5 miles or so,” I said. “5 miles! That’s more than I drove today!” said Chris, visibly pleased with his wit. I forced a laugh back. This was the ritual I seemed to have with my coworkers. They’d ask—almost daily—how much I had run or planned to run that day. No matter the answer—five miles, 10 miles, 20 miles—the reply would always involve some comparison to distances they drive, or their lifetime miles they've run. I don’t find the ritual annoying exactly, but it is certainly words to fill space in a more obvious way than traditional topics like weather or traffic or The Game that I probably wouldn’t know had happened. “Been checking for that article. We’re going to get one framed for right there.” Chris pointed to a series of framed pictures that lined the lefthand wall of the lobby as you entered Penn Foster. The first half of the wall was six portraits of the first six presidents of the school. The four pictures that followed successfully lost the theme. A picture of the original building before the addition was put on. A scenic skyline view of the Poconos. A very amateur group photo from the company cookout in 1992. And a picture of the Governor of Pennsylvania, Ed Rendell, holding a large pair of scissors at a ribbon cutting ceremony to celebrate the opening of the new addition on campus. Thinking of the anticipated 11th picture made my stomach feel like a hole had blown open below it and all the air from my upper body sucked out the bottom as if vacuumed. “I don’t know. Haven’t heard when it’ll be out yet,” I said. “I’m sure the Times-Tribune hardly registers on the radar of sports star,” Chris said, impressed again with his wit. I forced another laugh as I flipped a goodbye wave and pushed into the men’s room. Yesterday at lunch I had met with a Times-Tribune reporter on my lunch break. They are doing a story on my having qualified for the 2024 US Olympic Marathon Trials. Ten days ago I ran 2:17:51 at the California International Marathon, just under the qualifying standard of 2:18:00. Qualifying had been a dream of mine since watching the 2008 US Olympic Marathon Trials one hungover morning in my college dorm back in 2007. Over the last 17 years this dream has been a source of hope and heartbreak, keeping me engaged with the sport at a level I once held as almost impossible, but breaking my heart each of the attempts before this one. A DNF in the 2011 CIM would be my first post-collegiate marathon and my first taste of defeat in this pursuit. At the 2016 Houston Marathon I walked the last two miles in 42 minutes after watching splits slip further and further from the goal from mile 18 through mile 24. At CIM in 2019 I would miss qualifying by only nine seconds. It's no secret to those closest to me that I’ve held this dream on the highest possible pedestal for approaching two decades now. As a younger and more arrogant runner I talked about the goal openly quite a bit, almost trying to speak myself into the type of runner that “deserves” this. My reactions to failure in those early years of the marathon were more public displays of disgust to really emphasize “what I am running here is so much below me.” As I got a little older and a little more mature the lesson to respect the distance and respect the effort really began to take hold. Over the last few attempts, though my aim has been better and results only growing more and more consistent, the local fanfare I artificially drummed up in the earlier years hasn't been there. The motivation to stick out a goal—for myself—became the only stimulus necessary. Carl Bellingham, the Times-Tribune reporter they sent, is known mostly in the area for covering high school sports. He must be in his late seventies now. We’d crossed paths several times while I was running in high school as a West Scranton High Invader and a handful of times after high school for stories I always found embarrassing, like my 85th place finish at the Boston Marathon the year of the tragic Boston Bombing. I always felt they wrote that with a weird angle like I was a hero for running a race. I guess hometown papers are for that kind of thing. Carl sat down across from me in the back corner booth of Five Guys and pulled out a small pad and a pencil from his bulging beige vest that he was famous for wearing around town. This thing must have at least 30 pockets on it and there’s a non-zero chance this is the same vest he was wearing back when I thought winning the Eastern PA League Championships meant I’d be swatting away shoe contracts in a few years. He placed his large aviator glasses on the table next to the pad and looked up. “So, you did it,” he said, calmly and grinning. “I always knew there was something special about you. Let’s get into it.” We sat and I answered Carl’s questions for over 90 minutes, recounting everything from how I fell in love with the sport to the many missed attempts to how being 38 affects my training approach today. We went into detail—mile by mile—of the race. The fall I took only three miles in that ended up being more of a positive adrenalin boost than a hinderance. He asked some absurd questions like if this means I’d pursue running full time (I couldn’t) or if any sponsors had reached out (I wasn’t waiting by the phone). There’s an interesting line to walk in these situations to not sound like you’re belittling the importance of the effort to yourself individually and not taking a hacksaw to any readers’ accomplishments that fall on the slower side of the effort but also making sure to put a hard stop to any misleading language that this somehow compares to what’s happening on the professional end of the sport. I’ve always hated those who lean too much into accepting praise and especially those who flat out exploit it. One of my other ongoing transformations in the sport seems to be a growing cynicism towards all the Main Characters in the amateur running world. I’ve yet to determine if these feelings are fair or not. “I’m going to try and get this piece out as quickly as possible. I got your photos you emailed last night. I’m going to use the finish line shot for the cover page and that massive pack you’re running with for a photo mid article.” “Cover page?” I said. “Well, Sports Page cover, but yes. This is a cool story! A feel good story. Lines up nicely headed into the holidays and celebrating the community. Ya know, all that home town pride stuff. It’ll be a popular one,” Carl said as he was cramming his small pad and pencil back into his wearable filing cabinet. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Thanks, Carl,” I said, standing up to shake his massive, calloused hands. Yes, this will be a popular one. I’m sure come Christmas we’ll still be all talking about it. I’m actually nearly certain of that – that this story will find some legs to walk around town for more than a few days. But there’s this thing about this race that no one knows - not Chris or Carl or my parents or my club mates or my coach. Well, no one other than myself and the United States Anti-Doping Agency agent who sent me an email the night before meeting with Carl. No one knows I doped.

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1 year ago 11/22/2024 6:33pm EST

re: From a Journalist

From a Journalist wrote:
I always and still have the question, why would anyone want to run a marathon unless you knew you were going to win it?

Doesn't the same apply to any distance? Why call out marathon?

1 year ago 11/22/2024 9:29pm EST

re: FickShun21751

Malcolm Gladwell trolling all you Idiots!

1 year ago 11/22/2024 10:41pm EST

re: More More

I think (and hope!) that you're right.

1 year ago 11/23/2024 6:58am EST

re: FickShun21751

1 year ago 11/23/2024 8:21am EST

re: FickShun21751

For the next draft move most of the action to Tucson where you can meet a16-year old runaway at the motel pool (you think she is 18). The resultant infant will need surgery which you can't afford. So you go to Nogales to score EPO with motivation to win prize money. You win enough and then confess your sin... but surprise... you test negative cause the dope was counterfeit! But wait another surprise! The infant turns out not to be yours. So you get involved in some kind of violence and tell it all in the Pulitzer-Prize winning "EPO Meridian"

1 year ago 11/23/2024 6:00pm EST

Also I really loved the bit where he went on D3 Glory Days and incorporated Stu and Noah. Would’ve loved for the guy to login to Letsrun.com where he weighed in on like a Coach JS thread or something

1 year ago 11/24/2024 10:20pm EST

re: FickShun21751

It didn't make sense at all to give the interview to the local paper. Yes, he hadn't been busted yet, but he knew it was coming. Without the interview, they don't do the story and no one in his town really knows except for his coach and his girlfriend.

11 months ago 06/30/2025 12:25pm EDT

re: FickShun21751

I finally finished reading this today, after having the tab open for 7 months. Nice story, kept me engaged. Good job!

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