Ground Zero

Last night's CBS documentary brought back all the raw emotion of 9/11.

Five years ago, I watched my six-month-old son laugh and play on the living room floor as, on the TV next to him, lower Manhattan burned. That juxtaposition of innocence versus evil always will be burned into my consciousness. I remember being thankful he didn't understand. Still am.

Eventually I had to get away from the news so I took the baby for a walk in the jogging stroller. It was 80 degrees, calm, and sunny and the streets around the park were deserted — perfect conditions for a run but I didn't have the energy. And it was so quiet.

By the weekend it was time for Diesel and I to do our longest run — 24 miles — before the 2001 Chicago Marathon, which was three weeks away. The morning skies were silent except for the constant roar of fighter jets scrambling to locations unknown. There weren't many other runners on the park path. Were we being attacked again? Would the city sound sirens to let us know? We kept running, wondering what the terrorists' next target would be and if the marathon crowd in Chicago would be one.

Three weeks later, in a Chicago bar after the marathon, the crowd went silent as the networks broke away from their NFL coverage to show the U.S. attacking Afghanistan. Later that night, an Afghani cab driver drove me to Midway Airport for my flight home. Weird.

Three years ago in October, in Manhattan for a bachelor party, I rode the subway down to the World Trade Center site. The vast scale of the destruction is unimaginable until you experience it. We could feel the death and grief in the air. Posters showing faces of the missing still were hanging on the fences. Nobody spoke. When a sidewalk vendor's DVD started showing the planes hitting the north and south towers, I was overcome with emotion and had to leave. We found solace over pints of Guinness in a Battery Park bar, surrounded by 9/11 photos on the walls.

Now my two kids have never known anything but life during wartime. And if you believe in the concept of peak oil, which I do, it seems clear the world's countries will only escalate their insanity to fight to the death for this resource. I don't see this battle ending in our lifetimes. Meanwhile, McDonald's still gives the kids Hummers in their Happy Meals.

In two months I'll be back in Manhattan to run the New York Marathon. I'll visit Ground Zero again, think about all the brave people that lost their lives then and who are defending us now, and I'll feel the same overpowering sadness. But it's good to remember — and to keep living the active life.

Back tomorrow with video of German girls racing in stiletto heels.


At the WTC base, circa-1990.