Sunday morning in Chicago. Usually a pretty quiet time to head downtown on the "El." I'm a devoted Red Line girl myself. I stay with friends up in Rogers Park and get on the train at Sherwin---the next-to-the-last stop before the end of the line, at Howard in Evanston. With sentimentality I rarely experience anywhere else, I relish the view of Lake Michigan, the gorgeous skyline as it appears around the corner; the great people-watching, and above all, pulling in to the Addison platform, right across from Wrigley Field. In Chicago rarely enough that the ride never becomes drudgery, those train rides are part of my "total sensory experience" whenever I'm in the city, and I groove on it! I often ride during rush hour, both ends of the day. But this Sunday morning, I'm meeting my friend Carla downtown for brunch at one of our favoriate restaurants. We're going to spend the day catching up on business and personal matters. I'm excited.
It seems to be a typical Sunday morning in Chicago, with very few people on the train. But then, as we pull in to the Belmont station, the platform is so crowded, it looks like 8 a.m. rush hour on a weekday morning. The passengers pile on to the train. They are in groups of three, four, seven, eight. Each group wears a matching t-shirt: "Where's Jamie?" (bright, electric orange). "See Jane Run". Pennants, balloons, flowers. Fullerton stop. More t-shirts, more noisemakers, a megaphone, "Go Kevin!" The joy, excitement, and yes, LOVE are absolutely palpable. These are the friends, loved-ones, and co-workers of people who are running in the Chicago Marathon today.
Friday when I flew to Chicago from Houston, I got a little taste of the marathon. I sat next to a few people who were traveling to run. They were animated, yet laid back at the same time, reading their running magazines, poring over technique columns and shoe evaluations, talking about where they were staying, plans to rendez-vous afterwards. Other runners on the plane were easy to spot by their physiques and by their very cool sporty gear. As people disembarked, it became obvious that everyone on the plan had had a conversation with a stranger about the Chicago Marathon. "Good luck!" "Run well!" "Have a great race!" Such well-wishing after a commercial airline flight struck me as highly unusual, and I savored the great feelings well past the baggage claim.
But this morning, on this train---unbelievable. Crazy hats, wardrobe evolving to the level of theatrical costuming rather than just simple team unity. I hear the clanking of cowbells above the din of the train-noises and the conversation--a whimsical rural noisemaker in this urban setting, it makes me giggle. Each get-up more over-the-top than the last. Excited conversations. The woman sitting next to me was in from St. Louis. She and her friend had hoped to cheer their husbands at an earlier checkpoint, but had missed them. They were taking the el to try to intercept them at another checkpoint on down the line. People were on and off the train, well before downtown, apparently doing the same thing. Strangers talking to strangers, a lady from Delaware. "My son." "My girlfriend." "My best friend's brother." Laughter, smiles, appreciation.
OK, so now I'm going to make a really corny statement. The ENERGY on that train, and probably every train rolling on this morning, was so overwhelmingly positive, cheerful, loving, giving, and expressive without concern of foolishness (in fact, that sort of seemed to be the point). Every one of those people was doing what they wanted to be doing, had made an investment in attire (or regalia, as the case may be), and were spending a Sunday morning focused on celebrating the achievement of someone else. No resentment, no martyrdom, no competition, no worry or concern. Just love, fun, acknowledgement, and support. It was a demonstration of selflessness and joy that was so PURE, people just seemed to be shining. Who knew that the Transfiguration of humanity was happening on the CTA?
I feel such pleasure, joy, and appreciation whenever I am in the presence of groups of people--even LARGE groups of people--who are all gathered to have a good time, to laugh, to cheer, to appreciate. (The Art Car Parade in Houston is one of my favorite events for that reason.) Those are the occasions--the mile-markers-- when I feel most intensely alive, and deeply grateful for it.
My friend and I met for a fabulous brunch, and we sat in a window seat which allowed us to see more folks making their way to be at the finish line. A riot of color, humor, creativity. Our conversation centered around more serious matters--contemplated decisions, transitions, preparing for change, preparing for growth. We share a lot of laughs, and a few tears. Later in the day, I spent a beautiful few hours cuddling 6-month-old Nick, the son of dear friends, as they went out on a rare movie date. Upon their return, as Nick and his mommy romped in the floor. his giggles and chortles turned into belly laughs of the deepest delight. The fullness of life, and this particular day, overflowed through my tear ducts. I am not nearly done.
