I’m going to kick this blog post off with an eye-opening piece of trivia I heard a few weekends ago while in Washington, D.C.

 Q: Who is the earliest US President to still have a living grandchild?

 You’ll find the answer at the end of this post. Prepare to be just as shocked as I was upon hearing the answer.

The vast majority of my PERPETUAL FOOTSTEPS musings over the last two years revolved around my travels, mostly foreign but a few domestic. The United States-themed posts described trips to various cities around the country in order to compete in road races of varying distances: New York City for the Tunnel2Towers 5k, Minneapolis for the Twin Cities Marathon. A few weeks ago I loaded up my backpack again and journeyed south to Washington, D.C., for the Marine Corps Marathon.

I must disclose that I am fascinated by our nations capital. It is a city built upon so much history that to visit for a few days only allows you to scratch the surface of the museums, monuments and memorials that dot the city. Sandwiched around my 26.2-mile jaunt through the streets of D.C., and Virginia were three highly entertaining, and thought inducing activities: the Monuments by Moonlight tour along with private tours of the Pentagon and the Capitol.

Most people can visualize the major monuments and memorials around Washington, D.C., the slender obelisk of the Washington Monument, Abe Lincoln peering out on the mall from behind massive marble columns, and rays of sunshine reflecting off the domed roof of the Jefferson Memorial. These are all well-known locations that attract thousands of visitors annually. However, it was a different experience altogether to visit these sites after the sun dipped below the horizon and dusk enveloped the city.

The crowds were a little smaller.

Nearby traffic seemed a little quieter.

Bathed in warm spotlights against the dark sky, these structures took on a grandiosity that could only be matched by the men they memorialize…Jefferson, Lincoln, and Washington.

Thomas Jefferson was the primary author of the Declaration of Independence, our nation’s first Secretary of State and championed the rights of the individual during the American colonists attempt to break free of British rule. He was certainly a man finely woven into the fabric of America and his reputation remains in tact since his death in 1826.

It is no surprise that a man of this stature is now forever memorialized on the banks of the Potomac River. John Russell Pope, inspired by Jefferson’s own Monticello and University of Virginia Rotunda, drafted the blueprint for the marble structure. Construction began in 1939 and the memorial was officially dedicated on April 13,1943, Jefferson’s 200^th birthday.

After a slow walk through the interior, I walked down the marble steps to a nearby body of water. The Washington Monument stood before me rising from the National Mall to penetrate the night sky. Its well-lit reflection glinted off the Washington Channel tidal basin. My thoughts drew back to the words of the tour bus driver who shuttled me around that night. He informed us that a memorial is designed after the individual it is to honor has died while a monument is planned while the individual is still alive. Hence the difference between the Lincoln and Jefferson Memorials and the Washington Monument.

After brief stops at the FDR and Martin Luther King Memorials we continued to the Lincoln Memorial, our final stop of the night. Beginning in 1901, it took six congressional proposals before a bill was agreed upon to allot the funds needed for a memorial honoring Abraham Lincoln, the 16^th President of the United States. Construction finally began in March 1915 under the watchful eye of William Taft, who at the time was Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Project engineers avoided any major hurdles and completed the Lincoln Memorial in 1922.

The memorial itself measures 189.7 by 118.5 feet and soars 99 feet into the D.C., sky. I slowly walked up the marble steps that lead into the main chamber. Thirty-six, fluted columns stood before me – one for each state in the Union at the time of Lincoln’s assassination. While the crowd was slightly larger than at the Jefferson Memorial, the atmosphere was no less awe-inspiring. I am still left speechless at the oversized statue of a seated Lincoln peering from behind those thirty-six columns out onto the National Mall. I find it quite significant that a man who played such a large role in our nation’s history is honored on such a large scale. Original plans called for the statue to measure ten feet tall from head to foot. However, sculptor Daniel Chester French later increased the height to nineteen feet in hopes it would not be overwhelmed by the large chamber in which it resides.

I meandered slowly through the three interior chambers. I was most fascinated by the minute details: the folds in Abe’s clothes and carved inscriptions of his second inaugural address and the Gettysburg Address etched into opposite walls. After a few moments I turned to exit and took in the National Mall from Abe’s perspective. Ahead of me rested the long, reflecting pool whose clear waters by day now sat ominously black and motionless. On it reflected the Washington Monument, a hallmark of the Capital skyline from almost every vantage point. At the base of the monument stood another spectacular memorial, one that honors the Greatest Generation, the veterans of World War II. Two other memorials emerged from the dim shadows of the Mall, the Vietnam to my left and Korean to my right. Just behind the base of the Washington Monument, lit in all its glory sat the United States Capitol. Its brilliant dome stood in stark contrast to the empty night sky.

Rather than walking down the stairs, I turned left and proceeded along the outer portico. The far corner looked quiet and away from the crowds that gathered inside snapping selfies. I walked to the end and sat down between two of the large columns. I cannot describe how peaceful it was to sit there. Doing nothing but taking in all that spread out before me. My mind pondered the history and stories that could be told about the entire city. I wondered how the Capital Hill area came to be as it sits today. What magnificent planning I thought to myself. I looked to the large marble steps that lead visitors to and from the Lincoln Memorial. Martin Luther King stood on those exact steps and orated his “I have a Dream” speech. The history. The stories.

 I was also lucky enough to get a private tour of the Pentagon from a relative who currently works there. I have said many times that I regret not enlisting in the military or pursuing ROTC during my undergraduate studies. I think I would have excelled in the military ranks. Perhaps on my next go-around. However, I have many relatives who served and continue to serve today. As a result I have a great affinity for the military and all they do to defend our freedoms around the world. When I got word that a tour of the Pentagon was a possibility I was excited to say the least. It’s the Pentagon!! The military and civilian brainpower that reside there and the decisions made can alter the landscape of the globe.

I took the yellow line from the L’Enfant Metro station in DC to the Pentagon stop in Virginia. My instructions were to pass the necessary security protocols and wait in the reception area for my escort – a.k.a. my relative. I stepped into the visitor area and waited in line until I was called forward to the first available window. I handed over my passport and was instructed to enter my social-security-number into a keypad that rested before me. The man on the other side of the glass clicked his mouse and keyboard a few times and instructed me into the nearby security screening area. I noticed an x-ray machine and metal detector and followed similar protocols common in American airports.

After passing all the necessary equipment I was ushered into the reception area. This room featured a gift shop, rows of empty chairs and a bank of receptionists assisting other visitors. A few minutes later my escort arrived and the tour began. I was aware of the immense size of the Pentagon but looking at a floor plan put it into greater perspective. The floor space measures over six million square feet and laid end-to-end the corridors within the Pentagon measure over 17 miles. It is made up of seven floors, five of which are above ground. Five concentric rings lettered E-to-A, from largest to smallest, work inward toward a center courtyard. Ten spoke-like corridors connect the rings.   Due to its immense size, it can be quite a task to find a particular office or conference room. Each room is given a floor/ring/corridor/room designation. For example, room 3B1075, is located on the 3^rd floor, B-Ring, corridor 10, room 75.

We proceeded down a number of corridors following the itinerary laid out for the public tours. I was surprised to learn that the Pentagon displays a wide variety of military artifacts from all generations. These items – uniforms, scale models, artifacts – are laid out in glass cases that line the hallways. The Pentagon is as much a museum as it is a military nerve center. We traversed hallways dedicated to POWs and those Missing in Action, the 3,460 recipients of the Medal of Honor, Douglas MacArthur, along with each branch of the military.

We walked down the corridor that houses the offices of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Joseph Dunford, along with the Chiefs of each branch of the military. A few minutes later we strolled past the offices of the Secretary and Deputy Secretary of Defense. I’ll admit that I glanced in every office with an open door curious as to whom I may see.

My relative mentioned that over seventy foreign military leaders were due at the Pentagon that day and the following to meet with our military leaders. We stopped outside one office as it appeared those inside were preparing to exit. Out walked a number of individuals. I noticed two in Army dress uniforms. On the shoulder boards of the first sat two stars while three stars rested on the shoulder of the second – a two-star and three-star general. Some people may shrug their shoulders at that fact; but a general is a general and that’s impressive in my opinion!! Among this group walked a gentleman in a foreign military uniform I did not recognize. I looked at his uniform closely as he strolled past and saw a tab with “Latvia” on his shoulder. I did a little research later that day and it turns out that Latvian soldier was Major General Leonids Kalnins, Chief of Defense for the Republic of Latvia.

We carried on with our self-guided tour and perused through another few corridors. We made our way to the first floor of E-Ring where we entered the section dedicated to the Attacks of September 11^th. Drawings from school children around the country adorn the walls as do quilts hand stitched by other patriotic Americans. In one particular room sat a book listing the 125 victims who perished at the Pentagon that morning. Each victim is also memorialized with a simple bench outside the Pentagon. Time did not permit us to walk through the memorial park. It was nearing one p.m. and I had an early afternoon appointment at the U.S. Capitol. I thanked my relative for the tour and told him how lucky I was to have walked around the Pentagon learning a great deal as we strolled the corridors. We parted ways and I descended back to the Pentagon metro station for the return trip to L’Enfant.

I must confess that my girlfriend Elizabeth joined me down in D.C., for this weekend. She was excited to cheer me on during the marathon and just as eager to take in all the sights on offer. While my connection got us into the Pentagon, it was her connection that opened up the doors to the Capitol. I don’t want to brag; but combined, “we have quite the Rolodex” {sarcasm intended}.

Just to the south of the Capitol reside the three House
office buildings, home to the offices of the U.S. Representatives. Her relative, now working for Representative Steve Womack of Arkansas 3^rd Congressional District, instructed us to arrive at the Rayburn Office Building, pass thru the normal security protocols and take the elevator up the 4^th floor. We pulled up in our taxi and climbed the exterior flights of stairs. We passed through the normal x-ray and metal detectors and walked to the bank of elevators.

The elevator doors opened onto the 4^th floor and we proceeded down a wide hallway lined with large sets of double wooden doors. An American flag stood on one side of every set and the state flag of the representative bordered the other.   Next to the flag was a plaque with the Representative’s name and home state. We arrived outside Representative Womack’s office and the plaque indicated we were in the right place. Nervous to turn the knob and waltz inside, Elizabeth texted her relative and asked her to open the door for us. Moments later the door opened and she smiled with a puzzled look as though questioning why we were afraid to open the door ourselves. It’s Washington DC after all! And we’re inside the Rayburn Office Building! We don’t want to be the ones to interrupt some high-level meeting.

She led us inside and we made small talk for a few minutes about her role on Representative Womack’s team. She indicated there was a possibility he would be free to meet us later that afternoon. Or so we thought. My mind quickly jumped back to attention as the door opened again and in walked a gentleman in a finely pressed shirt and tie. He strolled with purpose followed by another younger-looking fellow. The man in front stopped, turned and I could tell he was wondering who was in his office. He stuck his hand out in my direction. Wait, I’m not ready for this…I thought I had a few hours until I met the representative. I filled his hand with mine and then Elizabeth shook his hand as well. Elizabeth’s relative introduced us and indicated we were in town because I had run the Marine Corps Marathon the day prior. We made small talk about running and he asked how I did. I told him I did all right and that I was happy I finished. He was not satisfied with that answer and asked for my finish time. I begrudgingly told him. He indicated it was surely faster than he could run a marathon. He shook our hands once again and excused himself to his private office.

It was also time for us to begin our tour of the Capitol. Since we were escorted by a staff-member of a congressman we were permitted some leeway on where we ventured. We did not have to follow the strict set of guidelines laid out for general tours given to large groups. We took the elevator to the lower level of the Rayburn building and walked through the underground tunnel that links the office buildings to the Capitol. Through another set of the x-ray and metal detectors we passed and our tour officially began.

From the outset I was surprised how many different nooks and crannies exist within the capitol. Elizabeth’s relative indicated the oldest section, which lies directly under the dome, was completed at the turn of the 19^th century. Soon after it was decided that more space was needed and the building expanded out from the original structure. If you stand on the Mall and gaze upon the Capitol, the Senate chambers are to the north, your left and the House to your right. Additional expansion and restoration occurred well into the 20^th century.

Our first stop was the Crypt, located on the ground floor, directly beneath the rotunda and dome. Built specifically to support the weight of the Rotunda above it, designers later hoped to inter George and Martha Washington in a tomb below the crypt. Washington refused this offer believing that his burial inside the Capitol would portray him as a deity rather than a President, whose role it was to serve the populace. The crypt now houses the statues of thirteen individuals; one for each of the first thirteen colonies. Directly in the center of the room lies a marble compass and designates the center of Washington, D.C. It is from this point that street names earn their directional suffix – Webster St NW, New Jersey Ave SE.

From there we proceeded towards a staircase that sat just beyond a “No Tours Beyond This Point” sign. Once again it pays to know someone. We casually strolled past this sign and continued down the flight of stairs. Moments later we came upon a set of bars that resembled the front of a jail cell. No, they were not meant to house Ted Kennedy after a few too many nightcaps, but were the intended entrance into Washington’s Tomb. Resting on the floor of the room was another marble compass. We were directly below where we had just stood in the crypt. Sadly, this room houses nothing more than Christmas decorations and other odds and ends.

Back up the flight of stairs we climbed and onward we walked. So many pieces of information were passed to us during our visit that I regret not carrying a tape recorder. We passed by the hallway that leads to Speaker of the House Paul Ryan’s office. Another “No Tours Beyond this Point” sign sat ominously and it was one of the few that we did not ignore that day. Congress is in session so we were unable to access the Speaker’s private patio. Rumor has it the view from the patio is unlike anything you will experience while in D.C.   Just beyond his office is the Capitol Rotunda.

Constructed between 1818 and 1824, the Capitol Rotunda rises just over 100 feet from ground level to the canopy of the dome. Eight, large historically themed paintings line the walls and represent scenes from the American Revolution, periods of exploration and the colonization of America. Although large groups of tours cycled through; it was still a magnificent experience to stand there and think about the historical figures that strolled along the very floor I stood on. I tilted my head back and my eyes climbed the walls until they reached the dome. They locked on to the Apotheosis of Washington, a 4,664 square foot painting of George Washington sitting among the heavens. Painted over the course of eleven months by famed Italian emigrant Constantino Brumidi, the piece also features six national concepts, each represented allegorically (War, Science, Marine, Commerce, Mechanics, Agriculture).

My eyes descended from the dome and returned to ground level.
They bounced between the eleven statues that line the outer wall of the Rotunda. An 1864 Congressional bill allowed each state to donate two statues to the National Statuary Hall Collection representing individuals historically significant to that state. The collection expanded over time as additional states were added to the Union. New Mexico’s second statue, donated in 2005, completed the set of 100. Six of the eleven statues in the Rotunda are permanent (George Washington, Andrew Jackson, James Garfield, Dwight D. Eisenhower, Ronald Reagan and Gerald Ford). The remaining statues are cycled between the five other positions in the Rotunda and those in the Crypt.

It was nearing 2:30 in the afternoon at this point and our guide had to return to work and Elizabeth and I had to begin trek to Dulles for our evening flight back to New England. We were told there was one more spot we needed to check out. It was in one of the lower levels of the Capitol and rarely visited on public tours due to its location. In fact, Elizabeth’s cousin was told about it when she began working for Representative Womack but was not divulged its location. She searched high-and-low through the Capitol until she found it. And now it was her turn to bring Elizabeth and I into the fold.

We left the Rotunda and walked through another maze of corridors. We stopped quickly outside a door that seemed to be out of place. It sat flush at a 90-degree angle to a bank of elevator doors.   Just to its left was one of the more ornate doors that are commonplace throughout the Capitol. Elizabeth’s cousin indicated that behind this odd-looking door sat the office of the Vice President of The United States. During one of the later stages of construction it was discovered that the Vice President, who is technically the President of the Senate, did not have his own office. The only remaining piece of real estate sat next to an elevator shaft. Although interesting to learn this was not the interesting place I mentioned in the previous paragraph.

We made our way down a few flights of stairs and away from the large groups of children from around the globe that were being led through the Capitol. We came upon a set of metal doors stamped with “Capitol HVAC” in large block lettering. Our guide knocked loudly and moments later a gentleman pulled open one of the doors ever so slightly. She asked if we could come inside “to see the baths”. He nodded and granted us entrance. In front of me sat another gentlemen wearing jeans and a grey t-shirt. He was glancing at a computer screen and behind him sat a number of hooks each supporting a white hardhat. My intrigue level grew by the minute.

We walked through their “office”, up a half flight of stairs and descended another half. Through another door we passed and before us lay a giant, marble bathtub. Two ornate spigots and knobs protruded from the wall. Elizabeth’s cousin indicated this was one of numerous congressional baths that were at one time found in the Capitol. Installed from 1859 to 1860, each of the six baths – three for members of the House and three for the Senate – were carved from a single piece of Carrara marble and shipped from Italy to the ports of Baltimore and New York before being transported to the Capitol.   A closet to house soaps, towels and other supplies was installed along with a set of swinging doors to provide a sense of privacy for those rinsing off.

At the start of the 20^th century, the present-day Senate office buildings were constructed with up-to-date bathing facilities. Subsequently, the Capitol baths fell into disuse and were disconnected from the plumbing as cracks appeared in a number of the tubs. By 1937, only one tub in each wing remained functional. The two that currently sit in the Capitol HVAC room are all that remain. The other four have been covered up or removed to make room for storage space.

I did not hesitate to climb right in when prompted and sit where so many Senators have sat before me!

There was one more very interesting, and slightly worrisome location we visited. I cannot go into much detail in this post regarding its location out of fear of getting our guide in trouble. Just know it involved the office of the House Majority Whip, Steve Scalise, a trap door in the floor and one of the original staircases dating back to the Capitol’s original construction. I cannot divulge any additional information at this time. Only those lucky enough to take part in a Congressional- or Congressional staffer led tour have the privilege of descending the staircase.

 I’d be remised if I didn’t mention a few other relatives of mine that we were lucky enough to see during our stay in Washington, D.C. My cousin, her husband and their two children live a short distance from the Capitol Hill area and have always been so gracious during my many trips to D.C. over the years. Whether I was in town for job interviews or road races, they routinely opened their doors to me and I have sincerely enjoyed their company over the years. We caught up over dinner and drinks during our first night in town. They filled us with bits of knowledge about D.C., while listing recommendation-after-recommendation of things we should see and places to go, all the while encouraging me to limit my amount of walking in preparation for the marathon. Before departing, they threw out two bars/restaurants, close to the White House, that are frequently visited by high-ranking members of Congress – the outdoor, roof deck bar at The W Hotel and the Old Ebbitt Grille. With a smile my cousin’s husband indicated, “many tourists frequent the Old Ebbitt as well; but they always sit at the tables. If you go, sit at the bar. Walk right up to the bar and you’ll fit right in. You’ll be locals!” The following night Elizabeth and I did just that. We walked along the Mall, past the Washington Monument and up 15^TH Street to the Old Ebbitt Grille. We made our way inside and bee-lined it to the bar like we were locals coming in for our nightly drink!!

That covers everything outside of the marathon that we indulged in during our long weekend in the nation’s capital. As any visitor to D.C. can attest, the list of sights to explore is endless and you’ll have to live around the city your entire life to check them all off; but I am extremely happy with what we explored during our stay and more importantly with whom we had the chance to see.

Now down to brass tacks. The primary reason for my trip to D.C. was the Marine Corps Marathon, my third full-distance marathon. My training began back in May, perhaps a bit early but who’s to say. I followed the Hansen’s Marathon Method, a recommendation I received while at a running store in Melbourne, Australia. The store-clerk indicated he bested his full marathon time by close to 25 minutes after following the Hansen Method. That kind of improvement is a wonderful selling point; I was sold.

My training was going well. I fell into a good routine of waking up early and completing a track or road workout before heading off to my job. I was in bed early on the weekends in order to feel fresh my Saturday and Sunday long runs. I felt strong and pain free, until I didn’t. Beginning in early September I started to feel pain in my left shin that I never felt before. Shin splits I wondered. Those are common in people new to the practice of running. I am far from a newbie and was quite discouraged by this new obstacle. I ran a half-marathon in early September and was wracked by pain the following week, only running a total of six miles. This pattern continued into October. I’d run very limited miles during the week, pound out a long run on the weekend and shuffle along during the days that followed. As any distance runner can attest, this is not a recipe for success. With worrisome thoughts wracking my brain, I boarded that flight to D..C unsure of how my 26.2 miles would turn out. I had a goal pace in mind and I was still going to shoot for it. Let the chips fall where they may.

I stood anxiously at the start line, in the shadow of the Pentagon,
as three V-22 Ospreys performed the ceremonial flyover and ushered in the firing of the starting gun – or in this case a howitzer. I took my first few steps out of the gate and my day was underway. The miles ticked by with relative ease as I stayed within a few seconds of my goal pace. I performed a quick self-assessment of how my body felt after the first few miles. No aches or pains yet. I settled in as the sun quickly rose over the streets of Virginia.

Elizabeth planned to see me at a number of locations along the course. She had her route mapped out with distances between locations and metro train durations from point to point. Her first stop was Mile 10. I picked her out of the crowd just beyond the Mile 10 marker. I felt strong, threw her a wave and did not break stride as I continued onward. Ten miles in and I was still feeling good.

 

This pattern continued at miles 15 and 17. The miles continued ticked by within seconds of my goal pace. As good as I felt, I knew the proverbial wall that always challenges me in full marathons lay just ahead, usually around mile 20. I knew that wall would rise from the asphalt at some point. All through my months of training I tried to build up the psychological toughness to grind through that wall when it inevitably appeared. Even as I glanced in the mirror of my hotel bathroom earlier that morning I told myself that I have what it takes to overcome that wall. Paul, grit your teeth and fight through it. Do whatever it takes.

My cousin and her family walked down to the course around mile 18. They caught my attention and threw congratulatory waves as I cruised by. 18 miles down…still feeling good. By mile 19, Elizabeth’s last location prior to the finish line, the wheels had slowly started to come off. I had run into that wall and was not stepping up its challenge. With every second that passed I could see my pace, a potential personal-best time and months of training slowly slipping into the abyss.

I recently stumbled upon an Instagram caption for a running-related post. In short it described how 26.2 miles will show you how tough you actually are; not how tough you think you are. Distance running is a pursuit unlike any I have chosen to follow in life. Honestly, I don’t think I have been more passionate about another hobby. And I owe that fact to its ability to humble me and every single person that walks to a starting line. Distance running tests you; it grinds you down. It throws up obstacle after obstacle. That is why I love it. It is why I continue to pin on a race bib and lace up my sneakers. I use races as an opportunity to see if I have what it takes to break through those obstacles.

I eventually crossed the finish line, even if it was thirty minutes slower then my personal-best marathon time. A camouflaged Marine placed the finisher’s medal around my neck and snapped off a quick salute. I walked away with a sense of pride that I finished but with a larger sense of disappointment that I still have not built up the inner strength to break through the obstacles. The damn wall won again and that is exactly why I will sign up for another marathon.

For those who even remember the trivia question from the beginning of the post…the answer is John Tyler, the tenth President of the United States. Tyler, who served from 1841 to 1845, has two living grandsons, residing in Tennessee and Virginia. Lyon Gardiner Tyler Jr. and Harrison Ruffin Tyler were both born in the 1920s. They are the sons of Lyon Gardiner Tyler Sr., one of President Tyler’s fifteen children.

 

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