Because it starts three feet from my face though, I usually go watch and cheer until I sound like a couple of frogs have shacked up in my throat.
|Best worst picture of me ever. |
Danny is ignoring me.
|April is good at clapping.|
|Cones make good bullhorns. And I am upholding my vow |
to wear a helmet even while standing still.
The first time I ever watched a marathon it was by mistake. I was in college, visiting my parents who at the time lived in a land far, far away. We were going on a boat tour and didn’t know that there was a marathon that went near the docks. While we were waiting for the boat, the race leaders went by. I remember thinking that they looked like they were flying. “They must be running 8-minute miles,” I said to myself. I had no idea how fast people could actually go.
We got on the boat, went on a three-hour tour and, when we docked, I couldn’t believe that there were still people running.
I have to do that one day, I said to my mom. Four years later I ran my first marathon.
Anyway, April and I stuck around until the 5-hour pace group finished. We never saw anyone else we were stalking but sometimes cheering for rando strangers can be almost as fun.