In Massachusetts, it’s the third Monday in April, Patriot’s Day, the day of the Boston Marathon. Since I moved to Boston almost three years ago, I’ve been amazed at the community support this event garners. It’s a municipal holiday, and many folks get the day off. The entire race route is lined with ordinary people who come to cheer the athletes on, and to offer high-fives, thumbs-ups, and water.
My favored spot for this purpose is at mile 19, at the foot of Heartbreak Hill. (The name speaks for itself; imagine running 19 miles and then having to gallop up hill!) For various reasons, I got there a little late this year. The race had already been won, but there were still a lot of people determined to finish the course for their own satisfaction and, in some cases, to raise money for charitable causes. I arrived just in time to see a man running the marathon on crutches. Why? He had only one leg. I can only imagine the physical and emotional pain he’d endured, but he still managed a smile when the crowd cheered for him. Then there was the woman with multiple sclerosis: it took her 36 hours, walking with a cane, to complete the course.
A friend of mine who runs marathons has talked about the gamut of emotions he experiences while running the course: elation, depression, everything in between. Sometimes when the crowd cheers, he thinks he’s superhuman. Other times, he can’t even hear the cheers because of the excruciating effort he has to expend simply to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
It’s got me to thinking how much this is like being a musician, any kind of artist, like life itself. We set our hearts on a course, to become the best singers we can be. Many of us have concrete goals which help us define whether or not we’ve succeeded, and sometimes circumstances point us toward very different ends. Along the way, we have periods of intense productivity and inspiration. We also have periods when we can barely remember why we’re doing this, and are certain (well, almost certain) that we’ll never enjoy it again. Even in those hard times, we keep going and eventually we do experience joy and pleasure in our music making.
So…to anyone out there who’s discouraged at this moment, take heart. The race is long, but you will find satisfaction again. And, to anyone who sees a colleague in a state of disillusionment or frustration, go to the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Just stand there and be a part of that 26-mile standing ovation the runners receive.
