Dear President:
It’s not really connected, but it’s true. I’m not sure about continuing with long distance running. Maybe you should consider it.
It’s a curious mix of ego, fear, or something else entirely that keeps some people clinging to power with a tight grip—refusing to pass the torch until it’s taken from them.
Last month, on Patriots Day, Des Linden crossed the finish line of her 12th Boston Marathon, securing her place in history on Boylston Street.
In 2018, she made headlines by becoming the first American woman in over three decades to win in challenging conditions that plagued many frontrunners.
That year, she famously slowed down in the race to help fellow runner Sharan Flanagan catch up. Linden showcased tremendous grit, using the fatigue of her competitors to her advantage.
“It was a really good day.”
Linden’s career has spanned decades, highlighted by two Olympic appearances and 24 major marathons, with a personal best of 2:22:38 and numerous top American finishes.
Just before the 2025 event, she surprised everyone by announcing her retirement from the marathon at 41.
Her finishing time of 2:26:19 in 2025 was her fastest since 2017, yet she felt it was the right moment to step away.
“I was pleased with my performance, and it felt just right,” she noted in her podcast with fellow distance runner Kara Gurcher. “It wasn’t competitive; it was simply a great day.”
“It possesses a level of dignity,” she added. “I don’t want to be there just to run laps. I want to excel.”
Aging in a bad mood
In American politics, dignity seems to be fading. Our leaders are aging in the public eye, often ungracefully.
Once, senator Dianne Feinstein was quickly transported to the Capitol in her final months, struggling through speeches while visibly confused.
Mitch McConnell often appears frozen during press conferences, seeming disconnected from the situation.
Liberal figure Ruth Bader Ginsburg chose not to resign when President Obama could have replaced her, staying in her role until her death in 2020.
Similarly, President Biden’s tenure has been marked by gaffes and confusion, as he stumbles through speeches and occasionally appears lost in thought.
At one point, he confused the president of Egypt with the leader of Mexico. During international gatherings, he sometimes gazed vacantly or dozed off, with aides frequently cutting his microphone.
Furthermore, he faces pressure from within his party and family to seek a second term.
White Knuckle Leadership
It’s a strange blend of hubris, fear, or something else entirely that keeps folks firmly in their positions of power. I really don’t know.
But it’s clear we have choices. We can shape our legacy and reveal our true motivations.
George Washington understood this well, as he demonstrated in his farewell letter. His choice to resign was a powerful act of humility and restraint, modeled for future generations.
“In a nation structured to be free, willingly relinquishing power is as vital as wielding it wisely,” he remarked in 1796.
He looked back on his service, admitting his fault lines: “I’m unaware of any intentional missteps in my administration, but it’s wise to acknowledge that I may have made many errors.”
“I hope my country continues to reflect on those areas and that any errors from incompetence will be forgotten.”
That joke isn’t funny anymore
Initially, I chuckled and rolled my eyes at your mentions of a possible third term. Back in April 2018, at a White House event, you joked, “Should I go back to 2016? Need to do that? Congressman, can I?”
The crowd laughed. I thought it was just humor. You, a stand-up comedian, had a gift for provoking reactions. But that playful demeanor morphed into something more troubling.
Then there were the “Trump 2028” hats and your repeated remarks about a third term at a rally in Nevada. By 2025, it became hard to tell what was serious and what was humor. During a March interview, you asserted, “No, no, I’m not joking.”
Good cards, bad cards
Here lies the quandary for Trump supporters: stuck in a tedious game of “good cards, bad cards.” Balancing achievements while downplaying questionable proposals.
In a recent “Meet the Press” interview, you clearly stated that you would complete two terms, emphasizing the importance of it: “I will be your president for eight years.” This was a relief for some conservatives.
Yet others remain uncertain, unsure of what to believe. It’s a mixed bag. For many on the right, your unpredictability is perceived as a strength—tactical ambiguity. Yet, when it comes to peaceful power handovers, that same unpredictability doesn’t foster confidence.
Broken clock
This brings me to a genuine concern raised in the May 6th edition of the New York Times. An article indicated that your past rhetoric, served as both entertainment and provocation, often blurred lines between ideas and fears.
Testing boundaries has become a habit. Even when departing from provocative remarks, you tend to challenge existing limits. Actions align with a president who, if even fleetingly, considers extending a term.
Those who were present during the events of January 6th recall your musings about “stolen elections.” There’s a lingering fear that uncertainty may destabilize our faith in the political process again. In this sarcastic climate, some conservatives don’t just question your actions; they ponder if your words will hold weight this time around.
Going out
In a heartfelt Instagram post on race day, Des Linden took her final bow. “People say you should leave at the top, and racing my last marathon in Boston feels like being at the top—ready to leave it all on the course one last time,” she wrote. “See you in Boyleston.”
Mr. President, stay true to your commitments—for the Republican Party you’ve reshaped, for the young conservatives you’ve inspired, for the party’s dignity, and for yourself. Run the race ahead of you, then step aside.
