I have come to the conclusion that elections are like marathons: They force you to endure long stretches of misery and inflict interminable pain.
This week I am testing that theory/cliché by running a marathon — the Rock ‘n Roll Marathon in Savannah, Ga. — just a couple days before the presidential election.
Heaven help me!
I do this knowing that the stress of the two within the same week could be too much for my poor body. I could spontaneously combust. I could go insane. I could vote for the green party or write-in “Bette Midler” for president. Nobody knows what will happen.
But I endure it for you, America!
I’ve found many similarities between running 26.2 miles and a presidential election, especially THIS election. For instance, feelings and emotions change over time. When I signed up for the marathon all those months ago, I was giddy, excited and full of optimism. Four months later I am racked with uncertainty, self-doubt, fear and the sense that I have made a horrible mistake. (Plus, I could lose some toenails in the process!)
I have paid hard-earned money for the luxury of enduring pain, and I’ve come to the sad realization that while SOMEBODY will win the race, it certainly won’t be ME.
As I search my feelings about the presidential election, SAME EXACT REACTIONS!!! Even down to losing toenails!
In both, I’ve worked my way through the five stages of grief — denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance. I have “accepted” that I never should have moved beyond “bargaining.” I could have cut a deal to get out of this.
But I accept my fate. That I have done this to myself. And that there is only one way through it: death, or to keep going. Many people ask how you run a marathon (I’ve run two before), and the answer sounds utterly obnoxious: put one foot in front of the other.
That’s all it really takes. If you do that for 26.2 miles, you will finish the race. Nothing else matters. Nothing else will help you through it. Nothing else will bring it to a quick end. It’s sheer willpower — not physical strength — and the knowledge that at some point it has to end.
This is the same advice I am giving myself for the election — one foot in front of the other … will yourself through it … at some point it has to end.
Mercifully, both will finally be over. The sun will come up the next day. The country will move on. And if your candidate doesn’t win, just have faith and begin training for the next one. Start putting one foot in front of the other.
Or be like me: swear off marathons and elections for the rest of your life! (At least don’t schedule them within days of each other. There aren’t enough toenails for the both of them.)