The Stories I Hear by George Sheehan III

"There's a great chapter on suffering, " I hinted to the wanderers passing my booth at the New York City Marathon Expo.

My only item for purchase was my father's best-seller, Running & Being. People familiar with the book offered their praise and stories of changed lives. But the New York crowd can be a tough sell.

I needed a hook to interest the visiting internationals. Especially, the Europeans. For some reason, the name "George Sheehan" rings a louder bell south of our border, than across the Atlantic.

In any case, my tagline seemed to intrigue a pair of female British marathoners. "The chapter is about my father's marathon experiences," I explained, " some good, some not so….and how he was able to 'win,' despite the outcome."

The smaller of the two picked up the book and considered the possibilities. "I'll take one," she said. And when asked what her likely time would be the following day, she predicted something around three and a half hours. I told her I would give her a yell.

To my surprise, while cheering the finishing runners near the 25 mile mark, I recognized this same women amidst the striding mob coming up Central Park South. "Go Great Britain!" I yelled as she was already past me. I didn't know if she heard me. But I smiled realizing she was right on time.

I smiled again while walking back to a friend's apartment. There approaching me, wrapped in a space age aluminum foil blanket was my British heroine. "Where's your friend?," I asked.

"Oh, Neve will be another half hour," she said. "I did read the chapter on suffering," she told me in a distinctive British tone, and then, with an appreciative smile, she added, "And it did help."

I knew it would.

Through my travels I've heard and met the living stories. People who have read George Sheehan, and found he was speaking their language. And it doesn't matter where they are from.

I met a deeply tanned middle-aged gentleman at the Boston Marathon Expo. I figured he was from the Southwest. He leaned over the table and whispered, "I am from Espana." Spain, I agreed. "Your father often quotes my favorite philosopher, Ortega," he said. He proceeded to produce a tattered original copy of Running & Being. The Spanish version. Opening its pages I saw paragraphs underlined and highlighted in yellow. "I keep this on my bedroom table," he told me.

Such stories I found were not uncommon. People of all ages and backrounds. I even once remember getting a letter from a man in prison. He wrote my father asking for advice. He wanted to train for a marathon, but there was one problem. It seemed he was serving his time in solitary confinement. He wrote of doing 10,000 laps a day in his cell! As my father's favorite, William James, once wrote, "To what extent does man have energies."

Set up a table and they will come. So, it goes when I'm at these race expos. The tales are touching and humbling. And some are stranger than fiction.

While at the Philadelphia Marathon Expo, a couple approached my booth. They expressed their love of my father. "We just got married," they wanted to tell me. "And our service was a brief one," they said, "but we wanted you to know that we took all our readings for the ceremony from your father's book, Running & Being." I could almost hear my five sisters in a collective gasp from miles away.

Many offered that they simply missed his monthly column. "I like the quote, but I miss the columns," refering to dad's monthly contribution to Runner's World. If you could hang out with me at one of these expos, you'd find out just how much his writing changed lives.

This website will hopefully suffice as a place where you can find your inspiration from his life's work.

Thanks for stopping in.