Story One: So, there I was, having finally found and rounded the corner to the finish. From corner to finish line was that last tenth everyone loves and hates. Both sides of the street were lined with people anxiously looking for their loved ones. I knew mine were there somewhere especially as I'd already heard, but not yet seen, Aaron (not an unusual situation in our family!).
As I got closer to the finish line, the crowd cheering notably escalated. I could hear the announcer but was paying no attention to what he was saying. As far as I knew, he was calling out the names of those finishing, but I was not quite there, so it meant nothing to me. As I got closer to the finish, I clued in to what was happening: The winner of the marathon had just come up behind me (in the marathon lane) and was about to cross the line. And, before I quite got to the finish, the second place marathoner crossed. Right there next to me. These two dudes just finished a full marathon seconds under my Personal Record finish for a Half.
I think that makes three in a row across the finish line in spectacular form, don't you?
Story Two (which is also my favorite): I love and hate something else about these races, and that's the few moment right after crossing the finish. The love part is probably obvious; the hate part comes from the fact that all of my leg muscles start to clench and scream and make me want to sit down only to hurt to sit for long only to really hurt when standing back up ... It's a little dance my body does. An awkward dance. But, it's well earned, and my family is used to it enough by now that no one worries if I'm okay or if I totally broke myself on the course.
As my internal body parts were going through their own motions, I enjoyed spending a good spell of time on some stairs (stairs = awesome. It's easier to get up.) sharing my post-race food with the Crew. I pointed out the man in the "I may be 60 but I feel like 13.1" shirt to my fam, and they made sure I noticed someone just got engaged near us on the stairs. We checked out the food trucks and got our respective Kona Ices and smoothies before meandering back to the racing field.
We passed right by the finish, so I took the opportunity to stop along the gates and watch people come in. For perspective, I must mention these runners were an hour behind me. Most wore that hour on their faces. Some of the marathoners were bounding in (um, how, exactly?), a handful of marathon relay teams were smiling and laughing while trotting 4-across together to the finish, an older couple finishing the Half was shuffling along together, and every, single person had their heart on their sleeve.
One Half runner caught my eye. If you looked only at her body language, you'd think she was in incredible pain. Her knees were together, her feet were barely propelling her forward, and her arms were clenched tightly to her sides. And, then, you look at her face: She was beaming. And, then she saw her crew which was a group of about 10 people crammed together and leaning as far as they could over the gates to hug her. Just when I thought her smile couldn't get any bigger, she stopped and hugged them all. And, she cried. She was probably 15 yards from the end, and she stopped. Those hugs meant more than whatever time she earned. It took her a moment or two to peel herself away to go finish, and she did so with a smile bigger than I've ever seen. The whole scene was absolutely beautiful.
This is for her:
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