The last thing anyone wants to do the day after Halloween, especially one that fall on a Saturday is to get up at 9 a.m.
By sheer insanity that is what I did last Sunday. Or should I say out of sheer curiosity. November 1st was the NYC Marathon. Now, dedicated marathon-watchers swear by the outstanding nature of this event. Oh, the crowd! Oh, the runners from around the world! Oh, the amazing fantastical energy that is created by everyone coming together to accomplish such an amazingly hard feat!
Hmm…it sounded like a bunch of sentimental ho-hah to me. I wanted to prove them wrong and be the Grinch who was too tired to care. Not that I don’t think running a marathon is worthy of praise, I just like to be Contrary-Mary to my friends who barrage me with gooey exclamations.
Try as I did to not be touched, the experience of watching the NYC Marathon was incredible. Damn. Double damn. I think the 75-year-old blind grandma barely able to walk who was plodding along finally broke my heart.
Everyone was happy and excited and inspired. Spectators gave runners hi-fives and when their name or country was printed on their shirt, shouted out encouragement. I became the official hand-clapper of the corner of Clinton Ave and Lafayette Street. Some people were too tired to slap my hand and and others were overly zealous and grabbed my hand heartily in appreciation. Young, old, fit and disabled were all trying to ran a darn long way and we were there to cheer them on. I asked folks about me what exactly inspires them, here’s what they said: