Finish line is pinnacle of runners’ satisfaction

Marathons are perhaps more about life than any sport. There are countless layers to them, all with different emotions and story lines and reasons to train for 26.2 miles of protracted suffering.

Unless you are Kenyan. Then it’s just another leisurely jog in mile splits not of this planet.

You have to figure Phidippides would have loved the Las Vegas Marathon. Any nutcase who would run 140 miles over a mountainous route in 36 hours, run back 140, then agree to run 26 more after fighting in heavy armor all morning would find it somewhat comforting navigating a course alongside Elvis impersonators carrying inflated guitars or men wearing large red dragon heads.

Phidippides dropped dead of exhaustion, of course. All for some message about a military victory and approaching Persian ships.

I’m guessing weather conditions in ancient Greece weren’t as ideal as those Sunday, when you could fill volumes with the various sensations those who crossed the finish line at Mandalay Bay felt, none more significant than the next.

How can anyone claim men’s winner Christopher Cheboibich or women’s champion Silviya Skvortsova experienced a higher level of personal satisfaction (OK, other than those checks worth thousands of dollars) than someone like Sharalyn Edmunds?

Edmunds is a 32-year- old mother of three from Dallas who accepted her participation medal, took a few steps to the side, dropped to both knees and began sobbing, alone with her thoughts and the kind of unparalleled fulfillment only this kind of moment can present.

“I made it a personal goal a year ago to run under four hours, 30 minutes,” said Edmunds, whose official time will ultimately be clocked several minutes faster than her target. “It was for myself. I’ve never done anything for myself my whole life. This is what I wanted.”

It’s a good standard — finishing a marathon in under 4:30 — by which to truly measure how far you can push the average human body. Elite runners like Cheboibich and Skvortsova are extraordinary machines capable of times thought impossible by most of the world’s population. Those who run sub-four hour marathons tend to have a higher physical and mental athletic capacity than the person standing next to you awaiting their Big Mac.

But this is what makes training for and finishing a marathon so different and inspiring, that really anyone with enough physical ability and mental stability can push through barriers always considered too imposing. It is such a strong and remarkable thing, the human spirit.

It is Kenny Herriot, who fell off a motorcycle going just 15 miles per hour at age 38, severed his spinal cord and competed in his first wheelchair race the following year. He is 45 now, won Sunday’s wheelchair division and has about 60 marathons to his credit.

“I had no depression after (the accident),” said Herriot, from Aberdeen, Scotland. “Just a few tears like anyone else. But then I just got on with it.”

It is Mike Barrowman, who owns a pub in a small village north of London and has logged over 30,000 miles of feet hitting pavement since 1991. He is 60 and ran his 50th marathon Sunday and ninth this year. His T-shirt claimed this was his final one. His T-shirt lied.

“It’s the last one this week,” Barrowman said. “I do it because I’m stupid, because I’m a nut. I started because my game of squash wasn’t very good, so I went for a run and it kind of stuck with me.”

It is Brittney Bergeron, the girl who was brutally stabbed and left paralyzed in her Mesquite trailer in 2003, competing in the wheelchair half-marathon at age 15. It is the man who limped across the half-marathon finish in the 2:45 range wearing the colors of Mexico and appeared not a day older than 140.

It is my friend Amir Feinsilber, who ran his first marathon Sunday in 3:31.22, who a year ago couldn’t do 15 sit-ups and can now do something like 600 without stopping and has adopted an incredibly healthy diet and has lost 50 pounds and has the body fat of a greyhound and becomes more annoying the more I think of him.

It is all the squints of agony and excruciating hobbles crossing that finish line. It is the mother of three from Dallas dropping to her knees and sobbing tears of private accomplishment.

“You know,” said Barrowman the pub owner, “I know someone who has done 400 of these and others who have done 150 and 175. Me doing 50 is small by comparison.”

Doing one is unbelievably noteworthy, unless you are Kenyan. In which case it’s like a jog to the mailbox and back.

Ed Graney can be reached at (702) 383-4618 or egraney@reviewjournal.com.