Woke up this morning and it looks a marathon route is right past my window. Some cop told me it was the marine corps but i have since been enlighted. (see comment). A group of cheerleaders has assembled at the corner of 18th and columbia, screaming affirmations to everyone who straggles by. I would imagine it’s nice to have someone encourage you on when you are about to flop on the grass face first and not move for three days. I got to give it these guys (and women). Seems like such a painful hobby.
Just now i see two black security cars–the kind that gum up traffic when some admninistration bigwig wants to go to lunch– slowly driving next to a group of runners. Perhaps they are famous. Or rich. When they drop over from exhaustion, they can be whisked away quickly to the nearest emergency room. Or to Elizabeth Arden for a massage.
I think this is fairly far in the race, cause they are coming by just a few at a time. As i watch, i make note of the many possible running styles: the shuffle, the high step, the tip toe, the slide, the forward lean, the backward lean, the flat foot back slide, the prance, and my personal favorite, the prance-knee high-on toes-with a wave.
I guess i should get to the gym today.