My youngest ran the Columbus, Ohio half marathon last Saturday. On his last birthday in February he was a little bummed out that he had turned 35. The first thing he told me was, "do you now I'm now considered middle age"? Add to this the diminutive 5'8" dynamo had gotten a little chunky. He made up his mind to prove he still had some fuel in the engine. So, he started running, and running and ran some more. He lost thirty pounds in 14 weeks and decided to put it to use. I think it'd be like me going to the driving range each day but never playing 18 holes. I was very proud of his effort. Lizzie and I were on the curb at mile marker ten and here he came, a big smile on his face and sprinting right on by. I think his total time was 1:56:30.
Prior to his running by I was starting to get tired watching some of the 12,000 participants so I leaned up against our car. Then, I got in the car to sit. I thought I'd wave as he went by but sitting in a car watching runners seemed, well, unseemly, so I got out just in time. He thought I been standing on that curb all that time. Except for two coffees, a couple of bagels, taking care of my grandddaughter and resting, I was.
It takes courage to run 13 miles. Wanna know who I admired most? There was a lady, she had to go well over 220, who was running. I mean, she was picking 'em up and laying 'em down. I gave her the Oprah as she went by, "You go, girl".
There were fifty or so US soldiers in the 'parade'. They were walking in uniform with 50 lb. packs on their backs. They received a big cheer all along the way I bet.
Not to be outdone by my son and to show my respect for him I drove 13 miles last Saturday.
Oh, the winner! He did the race in an hour or thereabouts. This might surprise you. He was from Kenya.
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