Pete and I watched the NYC marathon yesterday. It gave us a renewed appreciation for the city of New York, especially since the race organizers took our sleep schedule and apartment location into account when planning the course and start time. The elite women began at 9:35, which meant we didn’t have to walk to the corner until about 10:45. We were lucky to have to walk only a half a block to spectate. Because if there’s one thing you want to avoid on marathon day, it’s physical exertion.
Unfortunately, we missed the leaders in the wheelchair division, but we did see Paula Radcliffe (Hey, Paula!), Gete Wami and the other top women. I shook my cowbell at them.
Then the superfast dudes like Martin Lel blew past. I shook my cowbell at them, too. Good times!
Then it was more fast people, fast people, fast people. Then Lance Armstrong. 
People always say that celebrities look smaller in person, but I thought Lance looked like The Hulk compared to some of the slight runners around him. I shook my cowbell at him. Then I worried that maybe I shouldn’t have, since I’m dismayed by his recent alleged antics with Mary-KateandAshley Olsen. But I’ve decided that even if the rumors are true that Ashley was sitting on Lance’s lap somewhere, it’s possible that at the time his big hulking athletic self didn’t even realize she was there. Kind of like when a fly lands on the hindquarters of a rhinoceros.
But I digress. Back to the cowbell. Not only did my cowbell-shakin’ arm get a workout, I got hoarse from cheering for runners during the several hours we stood along First Avenue. I especially loved yelling for the runners who had put their names on their shirts. There were so many people running for great causes or just to challenge themselves; the whole event was inspiring. 
It almost made me want to throw my hat into the ring for next year. But then I thought, who would ring my cowbell? And after that, I thought, my feet are cold and I’m kind of thirsty, so I’m going to the corner store to get a Cherry Coke Zero and then I’m going home.
And that was the end of my NYC marathon experience. Congratulations to all of the participants!
(Photos by Pete Thomson)
If you run in the marathon, then I will gladly shake your cowbell. Actually, I will shake my own cowbell, because I got one for my 21st birthday. In fact, YOU bought it for me…and taped it to the interior roof of my car. Nothing says love like a cowbell.
Why is that woman trying to hand that man an un-ripe banana? Is that what runners do? Peel green bananas while they run?
Everyone wanted to share the potassium love with the runners. Some of the overzealous spectators were chucking the bananas like boomerangs at any marathoner who looked in their direction.
Also, it seems that the preferred technique was biting the top off the unpeeled banana. And the whole enterprise resulted in a fair number of comically classic banana peels laying all over the marathon course.
I like the part where you thought about running the marathon, then thought again, and then went to get a cherry coke zero. Thata’ girl!!!!!!