I was pretty fast at one time, but when I no longer had to run that was it. That being said, I do feel compelled each year to walk down the street to cheer on the thousands of marathoners who pass through the neighborhood. They are all ages, shapes and sizes who brave whatever weather to participate in the Houston Marathon.
This 45 degree morning I was on the curb before 8:00 thinking I would see the first runners through. No such luck. They beat me by almost 15 minutes. One by one, group by group, the elite runners were followed by young people, trim and in better shape than I will ever be again.
As the race goes on, the mass of runners increases, and the look begins to change.
Not all are young,
and some are physically impaired and make the trek with a guide.
Some smile and say thanks as they pass by
while others spot a friend or spouse to whom they stop and say hello.
As he passed in front of me, this fella, a doctor, had to stop for a call. I couldn’t help but wonder if it would keep him from finishing.
Some runners exhibit a sense of fun to go along with their determination
and these marines drew a cheer as they passed by.
On the curb, some watchers were ready with their phone to snap a photo of someone they knew
and a group of your g boys cheered every passing runner. One day I might be cheering them on.
All in all, the marathon is a study of people who for whatever reason accept the challenge of running it. For some, like the Ethiopians who finished first, it means money, but for most the satisfaction is in the doing, and I am happy to cheer them on until my voice is no more than a croak.
i so appreciate your visit and the comments you leave behind