When my husband Scott submitted his name in the lottery for a slot in the 2005 ING NYC marathon, I thought nothing of it. He mentioned it in passing, probably not wanting to get his hopes up as his chances of securing a spot were slim (there are approximately 90,000 applicants to only 37,000 slots- fewer still when you count the elites and the various celebrities who probably don’t have to do anything as undignified as enter a drawing for an opportunity to race). Even slimmer was the chance of both him and Ben winning the lottery, so to speak. Well. Maybe it was just the luck of the draw, or maybe it was fate, or maybe it was truly divine intervention, but on the day that both were informed of their guaranteed spots in the marathon, the Running Rabbis organization was born. Back then it wasn’t so much an organization as simply two friends, two Rabbis, deciding to train and run together. And so it began. The weekly runs. The obsession over the training regiment. The hundreds (thousands?) of dollars spent on new running shoes, appropriate running clothes and accessories, a subscription to Runners World magazine, membership to the New York Road Runners Association. Then came the trips back and forth to physical therapy (oh yeah, that was another expense). The aches. The pains. The fear of injury and the fear of permanent bodily harm (okay- that last one was my own fear- I tend to be irrational at times and Scott has not run competitively since high school). But with all that angst- physical, mental and emotional- came the motivation, the sense of accomplishment, the pride, the joy, and also the notion that this endeavor can be used as inspiration for others and as a way to raise both awareness and much needed funding for the HUC-JIR soup kitchen. They were not just running for fun (fun???), they were running for a cause. They were proving that social action can be accomplished in creative ways; that Tikkun Olam (repairing of the world) can be achieved one step at a time (figuratively and, in this case, literally). As human beings, they were being charitable and kind, but as Rabbis, both of whom lead congregations and preach from the bimah every week, they were leading by example. They were influencing hundreds of others to follow in their footsteps- maybe not by entering marathons themselves, but by participating in various, creative ways in the important duties of charity and social action. As a fellow human being, I was humbled and inspired. As a wife, I was proud of him and excited for him. And so began my involvement, and I imagine Lisa’s as well, in our husbands’ NYC marathon experience. First, I had to get through the few (long) months of training. His excitement became my excitement; his enthusiasm became my enthusiasm. His aches became my aches; his pains became my pains. His nervousness became my nervousness; his fears became my fears. I worried when he went running in the extreme heat and I worried when he went running at 5:00 a.m. in the dark to avoid the extreme heat. I was worried that he would get injured and would not be able to see this venture to the end. I listened to his training accomplishments and woes; I helped log miles and routes into various training websites. I heard stories about Ben, and how the two of them would pass the time on those long 20-mile runs on Thursdays in Central Park (high school girls would have envied the time they had together for some quality gossip and to share life stories)! I heard about things they witnessed running through the streets of New York City. I heard about ideas that were hatched and sermons that were born. I watched, I listened, and I tried to support even when I had to question why he kept at it when it seemingly hurt so much.

Then came marathon day and it all made sense again. I will never forget that day and feel that we, as spectators and loved ones, experience it in a way altogether different from the runners, but in a way not any less emotional and exciting. Lisa and I, and a contingent of friends and family, zoomed around the city on foot and by subway, holding balloons, signs, beads, and various supplies that were to be passed to our husbands at very specific meeting points along the route. My anxiety was getting the best of me. Will we make it to each stop in time? (We did in Brooklyn, yet still missed them running by). Will I be able to complete the hand-off of Gu without dropping it so that Scott doesn’t drop before the of the race? Will they both finish, or will one have to drop out after all those months and miles logged together as a team? But as soon as we got out on the road, we were swept up by the crowd and the runners. New York, while always on the move, seemed to stand still that day. It became all about the runners- not only the ones we knew and were looking out for, but the strangers who all became family that day. (I propose that going forward, it should be a requirement for every runner to have his or her name written somewhere on their bodies- it really does make it so much easier for us to cheer them on properly)! I am truly convinced that the NYC marathon is not about the elite athletes (that’s what the Olympics are for), and it’s not about the celebrities (Lance who?), it’s for the amateurs who pour their souls and soles into a very unforgiving hobby. It’s for the teachers who inspire students to achieve their goals; it’s for the waitresses; it’s for the investment bankers; it’s for the firefighters, lawyers, students, Achilles Club volunteers, average Joes and of course Running Rabbis who make it their mission to train and compete. And it’s for us- the wives, the mothers, the siblings and friends of those running. As anyone who has ever loved another knows, it’s almost harder to watch from the outside. You hold your breath as you wait to see their faces in the crowd, to ensure that they are meeting their goals. You cheer at the top of your lungs; you wave and hope that they saw you, that they heard you, that you helped propel them forward. And then you wait for them at the finish line, relieved that it’s over, giddy with the anticipation of seeing them to tell them how pleased you are, how inspired you are, how you can’t ever put into words the pride you feel at that very moment, whether they finished in four hours or fourteen hours. It’s all worth it when you see them walking (limping?) down the street, medals around their necks, tired yet triumphant smiles on their faces.  

I thought that this year I might be less nervous, less anxious as Scott was now a pro. But I was wrong. As a loved one, you never stop worrying, waiting, supporting and cheering. As a spectator, you can’t help but get caught up in the excitement, in the thrill, in the feeling that you, along with millions of others, are out there supporting strangers, helping them take that next step, complete that next mile, sprint to the finish line. On 5^th Avenue and 112^th Street at mile 22.5, I bumped into three of Scott’s congregants. They were there with signs for Scott and Ben (“Go Running Rabbis- less than four more Mohels to go!), obviously delighted to be out there spotting their Rabbi out on the course. After the marathon, Scott relayed to me that one of his favorite moments of the day was seeing another congregant, a doctor who works at a hospital on 5^th Avenue, running down the street in her lab code, stethoscope and heels, trying to get his attention and ensure that he heard her words of encouragement. It must have been quite a sight! But more than that, this kind of support from congregants sends a message. It proves that they are listening, that Scott is having an impact, that they are watching him participate in Tikkum Olam and they are joining in his efforts. Much of the funds Scott raised for Team for Kids (an organization that raises money for after school running programs for at risk youth), came from congregants. And this year, there seemed to be even more at stake. Scott and Ben “went public” with the Running Rabbis organization. They recruited another member. With the help of another Scott (Hertz), they started a website, posted stories, and fundraised for another important cause. They created a logo, made large banners and ordered t-shirts (thanks, Lisa). They raised more money than last year, ran faster than last year, and finished feeling even better than last year. Yes, an organization was born. They are already talking about next year, about the featured charity, about how they will recruit additional rabbis, think of new and different ways to fundraise and raise social awareness through runningrabbis.com. As for me, and all other spectators and loved ones out there, we will continue to support, to listen, to be inspired, to get involved. See you on the course next year. I will be the one cheering from the sidelines.