On Oct. 6, I ran my first marathon. Over 26.2 grueling miles, I kept asking myself why I set out to conquer this challenge. What was it about pushing the limits of my endurance that appealed to me? And how could I connect it to the person I am when I’m not wearing running sneakers, high-tech performance shirts and (too) short shorts that I would have laughed at two years ago? Over the four hours, 43 minutes that it took me to reach the finish line, I did not have much else to do besides think. And somewhere in between “I’m tired” and “I am really, really tired” (at which point rational thought largely ended), I came to a realization that at least somewhat answered my questions.
Marathons—the dedication, patience and sometimes outrageous hours they require—are a lot like the practice of law. Even the words “trial” and “trail” are separated by only a couple of transposed vowels. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that a marathon is a pretty good metaphor for the life of a case and the course of a legal career.
