Marathon Monday
How does one sum up the experience that is 26.2 miles of "mixed winter precip"?
Pretty. Much. Sucked.
The Seattle Marathon course is sadistically hilly in the 6 miles, and the weather, typically foul. That's why roughly twice as many people opt to run the half, and many, many more rational Seattleites skip the event entirely.
Even the suckiest marathons have their moments. For example:
Mile 14: A spectator holding a pink tagboard, garage sale-style sign that read, "Erica, will you marry me?" Um, hot pink tagboard? Dude, she'll get back to you. Don't go to the Shane Co. just yet.
Mile 18: No longer able to do multiplication or operate a Timex
(brain, hands too numb), we nonetheless coined a new word: Desperable. (desperate + miserable.) Sounded good at the time.
Mile: 23: Bystanders began handing out donuts from huge boxes. Frosted old-fashioned, even. Not a hallucination. As we were "running" and hoping not to stop or vomit, we passed on them, secure in the knowledge that, at a prior Seattle Marathon, there were loads of free Krispy Kremes at the finish, all the sweeter for having gone the distance. Well, guess what? No donuts at the finish this year. Let this be a lesson to would-be marathoners everywhere: Donuts are like cigarettes. Smoke 'em if you got 'em.
Mile 25.1: The best words of encouragement we received were uttered by a grandfatherly course marshal: "Lookin' good, young lady!" Not so much young, and no doubt looked like hell, but thank you. The truth hurts, and we'd had plenty of that already.
Image courtesty of Flickr user triforfun.
