I just got back home, because today is my holiday. It's marathon day here in Greensboro. And no, I don't mean we're all eating Marathon candy bars. Do they still make those? I am not a fan of caramel-only candy bars.
At any rate, I did not bring my camera because I was in such a rush to get out there and commence to cheering. Ever since I ran a marathon in 2000 (and yes, the term "ran" is a little strong), watching other people run marathons is my favorite thing to do.
On marathon day in LA, I would bring packets of aspirin, or tortilla chips, or orange slices to share with the runners, but as this was my first year watching the one here, I brought nothing and just concentrated on actually finding it.
But find it I did and YAY! I heart marathon day. I stand there and cheer like an idiot. Which is why Marvin does not come with me. Marvin is not what you'd call a cheer-on-the-side-of-the-street kind of guy. He does not cotton to the sight of me jumping up and down and screaming, "You go, girl! The end is in sight! Wooo, yellow shirt guy! Almost there, dude!"
I am hoarse by the end of marathon day.
I stay until the people who take six hours to run a marathon come in, because those are my people. Oh, shut up. Do I see your jiggly ass out there running 26 miles? Okay, then. The nice thing about this marathon as opposed to the LA one is there was actually a bench near the finish line that only had one guy sitting on it. He had a racer's number on and ice on his knee.
"Can I sit here?" I asked.
Southern people are nice. Even after they have finished a marathon and have ice taped to their knee.
He was waiting for his friend to finish, and we just had the nicest visit. He had finished in two hours and something, so naturally I hated him, and he told me how he competes in races in this area all the time, and how every single race there is this guy who runs in a kilt, and the guy beats him by just a smidge each race. This humiliates him, getting beaten by a guy in a skirt, so I told him about the guy who had one leg in MY marathon, who beat me by an hour.
An HOUR. He had ONE LEG.
Anyway. Mr. I-ran-a-marathon-in-two-hours-and-something told me about his Lab, who runs with him, right next to him, and I told about Tallulah, who does not. He says he can take his Lab to downtown Greensboro, leave her unleashed outside, go in and have coffee, and the dog just sits outside and waits.
Do you know what I would find when I came outside the coffee shop? Chaos and Tallulah's dust, that's what I would find. Fifty car accidents while she darted around traffic, children crying as she stole their plush toys right out their hands, people's tacos stolen right from their mouths, bistro tables knocked over, banks robbed, computers hacked, armored trucks stolen, acts of terror.
The LAB sits outside the SHOP. Waiting for the TWO-HOUR marathoner. Why did I enjoy talking to this guy, again?
After awhile it was getting hot and I told the guy I had better go, as I was getting hungry and I was thinking of stopping off at Sonic for a foot-long chili cheese dog on my way home.
"Really?" he asked, astonished. I guess two-hour marathoners do not imbibe in Sonic.
"Yeah," I told him. "I have the diet of a 16-year-old boy."
"Well, you're hidin' it good," he told me.
Oh, right. That's why I liked talking to him.
Anyway. We finally have a comment of the week, after 28 weeks of me forgetting. This week it goes to BlondeCarol. Also too, book club is going to be NEXT Sunday rather than tomorrow, seeing as I have not finished the book. Because I am busy eating Sonic. And hidin' it good.