Running for Your Life: Pittsburgh Marathon Lessons

Run 26.2 miles through the neighborhoods of Pittsburgh and get an education in Trump America.

By name, they are:

The Strip District, Uptown, North Side, West End, South Side, Oakland, Shadyside, Point Breeze, East Liberty, Highland Park, Friendship, Homewood, Bloomfield.

Let’s be clear. This is not a knock on Pittsburgh and the way its residents vote in presidential elections. Urban voters north of the Mason Dixon line trend toward Democrats.

Rather, consider:

Not so long ago, Pittsburgh, along with Manchester, England, were considered Steel Capitals of the World.

Yes, upteen square feet of steel mills on the river degraded water quality, the air was fouled.

But workers by the tens of thousands during peak manufacturing received living wages for a reasonable workweek.

They enjoyed union-strong health care, raised their children with a very real sense that these young lives, benefiting from well-funded schools thanks to a vital tax base, could realize dreams of improving upon the financial and educational circumstances of the parents and grandparents.

Enter Realpolitik of Imperial America, extracting concessions for its far flung Pax Americana, most especially seen in South Korea.

Soon, its Korea that is rivaling America in steelmaking.

Both national parties rush headlong toward globalization: free trade deals that all too often did not safeguard the industries like those in Pittsburgh that lived and died on manufacturing.

Germany is a good example of a country that did not follow this path. Indeed, Germany did much to keep a rigorous manufacturing base. One that has changed with the times, upgrading with high tech, and more recently, robotics.

But in principle Germany has kept its hand on the tiller; has not wholesale abandoned the industries in its good job-providing heartland.

You sure feel some of that old proud Pittsburgh in these predominantly working-class neighborhoods mentioned above during the Pittsburgh Marathon which I ran and completed last Sunday (May 5). House bands play on the street in front of dive bars that harken to steel times. Families of all ages flock to urge on all marathoners, some striding purposely by, others struggling to put one foot in front of the other.

I was constantly struck with the pride and spirit of goodness demonstrated by these folks on their main streets that seemed to me, a resident of vastly gentrified Brownstone Brooklyn, as caught in a web of time. I am touched to think of just how many thousands of people came out in the rain, urging us on.

Many on streets that seem to me abandoned by policies that had everything to do with modern politicians, with a contract that they feel was long broken. Promises that never measured up to what was lost.

And so Trump, the non-politician, is president …. Kind of adds up when you think about.

Running for Your Life: Killing Commendatore by Marathoner-Novelist Haruki Murakami

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