Observations of a marathon by a girl who only runs to catch a bus
My roommate Jenny was running a leg of the Pittsburgh marathon, and since she'd be passing less than half a block from our house, I figured I'd roll down the hill and cheer her on.
1. Next to ballet dancers, runners wear the weirdest shit when practicing their sport. Layers of all kinds, panty hose (panty hose!), leg warmers, short shorts, neon colors, belts full of water bottles, bags tied to limbs, joints wrapped and taped for safety or support. I understand many of those things have purpose (although layers? I get layers when the weather's uncertain, but when you're running 26 miles, what do you do with the discarded layers?) but runners look like they dug through a laundry basket and put on whatever they grabbed.
2. By only showing up to the marathon at noon, I sadly missed all of the hot shirtless dudes I assume were running by at an earlier time.
3. I saw very few couples running the race. I assumed that running a marathon is something that athletic good looking couples do together, but in the hour I watched, I saw maybe one set of people who looked like they might be romantically entwined. Something I did see a lot of were fathers and daughters. I know my boss used to run marathons with her father, and I wonder if there's something about this particular challenge that makes it appeal to fathers and daughters. Something about that relationship that draws them to this race. Daughters looking to protect their fathers' health as they age? Fathers looking to connect with their daughters in a sport that allows men and women to play together?
4. A man was running the marathon while juggling. It seemed as though if he were doing one or the other, he'd be pretty good at it, but together, juggled, ran a few yards, dropped the balls, picked them up, ran a few more yards. Lather rinse repeat. But he was making people laugh. Tired, sweaty people.
5. I respect the desire to push that hard. I could climb a mountain to say I 've done it. To see the top. But I don't get running a circuit just to do it. Those people are hurting, are killing their joints and their lungs to cross an artificial finish line. That, I admire, but is not at all who I am. Which could very well be a failing in me.
1. Next to ballet dancers, runners wear the weirdest shit when practicing their sport. Layers of all kinds, panty hose (panty hose!), leg warmers, short shorts, neon colors, belts full of water bottles, bags tied to limbs, joints wrapped and taped for safety or support. I understand many of those things have purpose (although layers? I get layers when the weather's uncertain, but when you're running 26 miles, what do you do with the discarded layers?) but runners look like they dug through a laundry basket and put on whatever they grabbed.
2. By only showing up to the marathon at noon, I sadly missed all of the hot shirtless dudes I assume were running by at an earlier time.
3. I saw very few couples running the race. I assumed that running a marathon is something that athletic good looking couples do together, but in the hour I watched, I saw maybe one set of people who looked like they might be romantically entwined. Something I did see a lot of were fathers and daughters. I know my boss used to run marathons with her father, and I wonder if there's something about this particular challenge that makes it appeal to fathers and daughters. Something about that relationship that draws them to this race. Daughters looking to protect their fathers' health as they age? Fathers looking to connect with their daughters in a sport that allows men and women to play together?
4. A man was running the marathon while juggling. It seemed as though if he were doing one or the other, he'd be pretty good at it, but together, juggled, ran a few yards, dropped the balls, picked them up, ran a few more yards. Lather rinse repeat. But he was making people laugh. Tired, sweaty people.
5. I respect the desire to push that hard. I could climb a mountain to say I 've done it. To see the top. But I don't get running a circuit just to do it. Those people are hurting, are killing their joints and their lungs to cross an artificial finish line. That, I admire, but is not at all who I am. Which could very well be a failing in me.