Marathon (from 9/05)

On my way home tonight and I notice that the banners for the marathon are up and the blue direction lines have been painted on the street. I live one short block from the marathon route, at mile 8. I never paid much attention to it, until I moved onto the route.

Last year I got up extra early to stand in the cold to watch the elite runners and the other-abled runners who get a head-start on the regular runners. The elites whooshed past glossy and taut like a pack of thoroughbreds. Then the wheeled racers, athelete and machine working together in a thrum and then gone, making the turn north on Bedford Avenue.

And what I wasn’t expecting, what was so moving, I can only recommend you experience for yourself. The blind runners. The runners with mental disabilities. The runners with musculo-skeletal impairments. The runners with one leg. The runners with no feet.

Last year I saw him, way up Lafayette Avenue, towering over the other runners. So tall, I could not quite figure out what I was seeing. As he came closer I saw why, he had prosthetic feet, specially made for running. They were big, springy metals C’s where his feet once were. I was in such a state of awe, blinking stupidly, and when he ran past, he took off his sweat-soaked marathon jersey and threw it over to me.

I wear it when I go running sometimes. With my two good eyes, my straight limbs, my healthy lungs.