Gramma & the Marathon

A little story I shared with family about the Illinois Marathon:

Back in the early 90s, when I interned at The Observer, I took up running for that summer--laps and laps around that wee lil' track in the Hart Center. When I wasn't doing that, I'd be bugging Gramma at J & K Kids (where the consignment shop is on 5th Avenue). One time when I'd come in from a run, she told me I was nuts and that I should put on some makeup. "You look like you've got your period!" (True quote!)

Fast forward to last weekend's marathon, somewhere in the final mile. I was fading and just trying to make it to the finish. I started thinking about prayer and how it didn't feel right to ask for God's help since I wasn't running for a charity and I'd voluntarily put myself there.

Then I thought about Grampa Kroymann and then Gramma and instantly heard in my head, "You IDIOT! What are you doing?!" with the image of Gramma standing by her microwave at East 8th Street, doing a fake little faint and slapping the counter with an exasperated sigh. I smiled a little and then went back to focusing on the misery of this last mile.

The route went under a train bridge and just as I was coming out from that, I started to walk. That's when some guy in an orange shirt came up behind me and said, "Come on Baby Cakes! We're gonna do this thing together! I'll run with you!" So I ran with him a few strides and then told him I had to stop. That's when he grabbed my right hand and started pulling me along. "Come on! You can do this! We're going to finish this with a 4 in front!" (Meaning in under 5 hours.)

He pulled me along for about a half mile. At one point, I said to him "You're so kind." He replied, "Hey, we're all family out here! We help each other out!" I have to admit that A) it was a little weird holding hands with this guy, but whatev, it was super helpful; and 2) Marty was going to think it weird when he saw me run into the stadium all cozy with this guy!

I finally had to tell him, "I gotta let go." And then he released my hand. I don't remember if we said anything to each other, I only remember his orange shirt. With only a quarter mile left, I figured I'd find him afterwards and thank him. But I couldn't find him! ANYWHERE!

A few days later, after I'd been telling everyone about my 'Angel in Orange' it dawned on me that mere moments before he came up on me, I'd been thinking about Gramma, secretly asking for some help....

Even in my idiocy, Gramma continues to watch over me, offering little nuggets of aid in the strangest of places and ways.