The white banner loomed ahead. The only thought that kept me from stopping–again–was the crowd split by guard rails. I winced; don’t make an embarrassment of yourself in front of all these people. I clenched my teeth and swiped my sweaty forehead. I didn’t even have it in me for a little punch in the end. Not an extra ounce of energy. I stumbled to the finish line. Not good. Queasy.
I scanned for a break in the crowd. So many people lined up to cheer for the runners. As soon as I found a free spot, I hobbled over and gagged deeply. My body heaved forward. Was I going to be one of those sickly runners who vomits after a race?
Food, maybe food will help. I bit into a cranberry scone, then spit it out. Yak.
Water. I’m dehydrated. I need water. A couple sips made me feel much better.
Prognosis? Old age. My body is not what it used to be. 18 months ago, I ran a half marathon in two hours without training. Now I can barely finish 5Ks. Hmmm, very scary.
I did the SF Marathon (I ran the half), I believe, in 2002. That was when organizers didn’t take into consideration the city’s treacherous inclines. I remember running up and around Potrero Hill around mile 10 thinking, I could really use some high-fives or cheers right now! Race organizers have finally wizened up to a flat, scenic route.
I read on SFGate that our marathon is the 13th largest in the U.S. I’m so glad we are able to capitalize on the tourism. We all have to sign up for next year. There’s so much schwag I could have filled up 3 grocery bags from the exhibition and the post-race party. Good stuff too.