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Sidelines Kalani Simpson |
Running in the steps
of an ancient heroLET'S go back to the beginning, back to the battle, back to 490 B.C. when there was a king named Darius who so hated the Greeks he had a flunky remind him of it every night just so the anger would never fade.
He'd already tried to conquer them, the Athenians and Eretrians, for daring to back his enemies. But, much like in our own history in which Kamehameha's canoes could never quite make it to Kauai, a storm turned back his navy. And the king seethed.
So in 490 Darius gathered the armies of his empire -- Africans, Asians, his own Persian troops, everyone -- and headed for Greece to finish this once and for all. He had, they say, almost 50,000 fighters packed on those ships, and soon they took the island of Eretria. Then they headed for mainland Greece.
Can you guess where they landed, on this morning before one of Hawaii's biggest sporting events? That's right. Persia's army anchored at Marathon Bay.
It must have looked like the end of the world.
But somehow Athens' general, Miltiades, had managed to find enough men to cut down his numbers disadvantage to a mere 4-1. The Persians, many of whom weren't really Persian, weren't fighting for their home country, had horses and arrows and bows. But the Greeks were heavily armored with long spears, built for close fighting, built for the charge.
Herodotus, the first historian, wrote, "When the Persians saw the Athenians coming down on them without cavalry or archers and scanty in numbers, they thought them as an army of madmen running to their certain destruction."
But in one of those turning points in history, the inspired Athenians' style of attack was perfect, and the Persians were uniquely vulnerable. Darius' troops took heavy casualties, and ran back into the sea. It was a big fat Greek victory.
One problem. The Persians still had an enormous army, still had their ships. And they decided to sail for Athens, which was left sparsely defended, with all its troops fighting the Battle of Marathon.
Realizing this, Miltiades called on a man named Phidippides to run the 26 miles to Athens to deliver the news. He did so, and when he finally got there, he was so spent from the effort he dropped dead.
When the Persians arrived and saw Athens ready for a fight they turned around and sailed away. The Greeks had won for good.
And years later some lunatic said, That would make a cool sport.
Tomorrow is the 31st running of the Honolulu Marathon, the race which last year was fourth largest of its kind in the world. Most of the rest of us don't understand marathons. I recall speaking with former Olympian Kenny Moore, how he ran through pain so severe his body "bled out." How even one of the sport's all-time greats, Abebe Bikila, once crossed the finish line in an ambulance. No, 26-mile runs don't sound right to us.
And yet we know, in some way we can't quite fathom, it is something noble they do.
In 5 a.m. darkness, the descendants of Phidippides run again. Tomorrow there will be another massive army, this one made of marathoners, all running in a hero's steps.
See the Columnists section for some past articles.
Kalani Simpson can be reached at ksimpson@starbulletin.com