My wife and I have two daughters, who were born four minutes apart. Almost from the moment we left the delivery room, more than three decades ago, rarely have one or both ceased to surprise me.
Like a few months ago, when I learned they were planning to run a half marathon. “A half marathon?” I said when daughter Sarah announced the news via a FaceTime chat. “Wow.”
“Yeah. Rebecca’s going to do it, too. We just decided. It’ll be fun.”
The daughters are fit, active and healthy but had never displayed a strong interest in running—especially the 13 miles, 192.5 yards that a half marathon requires.
“When is this marathon?”
“It’s a half marathon, Dad. It’s in October, I think.”
Author Gary Garth with his daughter, Rebecca, after cycling and running, respectively.
“Isn’t a half marathon about 12 or 13 miles? That’s a long way.”
“It’s 13.1 miles. And it’s not that far.”
For those of you who do most of your running in the woods, that’s roughly the same distance as the Moonbow Trail near Cumberland Falls State Resort Park or about six times around the Hematite Lake Trail at Land Between the Lakes.
Some online research revealed that the upcoming run is the Louisville Urban Bourbon Half Marathon presented by Jim Beam and scheduled for Oct. 8. The Running in the USA website calls it “a 13.1-mile experiential destination event that celebrates and promotes 200 years of Louisville and Kentucky distilling history, combined with a two-state half marathon route that celebrates Louisville’s river heritage and provides a distinct downtown running experience.”
Due to the booze sponsorship, runners are required to be 21 or older by race day.
The race will begin and end somewhere on Main Street, and the route includes a trot across the Big Four Pedestrian Bridge into Jeffersonville, Indiana, then a mile or so along the Ohio River to Clarksville, then back across the Big Four. From there, the foot tour will pass through Louisville’s Butchertown neighborhood and near Beargrass Creek and along River Road.
The daughters live in different time zones, so aside from working via coordinating phone calls, they are not training together. But they are training. That’s where I come in.
I’m not a distance runner, nor am I likely going to become one. But I do bike occasionally (primarily for editorial projects). A couple of months ago, Rebecca, who lives nearby, reached a point in her training program requiring a boost in her running distances. She decided to move that part of her training outside and invited her mom and me to bike along with her. We were happy to do so.
Unfortunately, that was about the same time the summer’s heat arrived with blast-furnace intensity. On the first Saturday, we agreed to start at 7 a.m.
“We’re only going 8 miles today,” Rebecca explained when I suggested that 6 a.m. might be a more temperature-friendly starting time. She then smiled and added brightly, “We’re doing 12 miles next week.”
This training activity is taking place on a local college campus, which—thanks to the summer schedule—is mostly devoid of students and traffic. It is eerily quiet at first light.
I occasionally bass fish at night to escape the sweltering summer heat, but something evil happens to my casting after dark, so I’ve moved most summer bass pursuits to the first hour or two around sunrise. I was surprised to discover about the same number of sunrise runners on campus as sunrise anglers on the water.
Both are small but devoted fraternities.
Rebecca finished the first 12-mile Saturday with a measure of exhausted elation. “I never really thought I was a runner,” she said between swigs of water, “but I guess I am.”
Yes, I guess you are. Another surprise.