Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Marathon, year two: still on the sidelines
Nanet stayed over last weekend. We met her a couple of months ago through a mutual friend and Vanessa took to her almost immediately. Both of them studied Wicca years ago, so it’s not surprising that they found a common spiritual ground.
Sunday morning I called up my friend Andrew and told him we were on our way. Andrew lives in a flat above Tooley Street. Tooley Street is just off Tower Bridge. Tower Bridge is the halfway point of the 25th London Marathon. Last year Anj and I watched the rain spatter down on the competitors from a boat on the Embankment – fun times. I made a promise to train for the next one – HA!
Laziness 1, Willpower 0.
Soon the masses, a steady stream of thousands, were thumping along on the pavement to the cheers and noisemaking of the gathered bystanders. The usual costumes - rhino, Superman, various burly men in drag - were soon followed by, er, unique entries: a five man caterpillar, a 16th-century page, and Mr. Happy. (no, not that one.) The runners thinned to a trickle, then petered out altogether. This year the sun shone throughout the run; many people having a beer cheered from their pubwise positions. We yelled encouragement out the window being careful not to spill our drinks.
I am coming to love the Marathon as an event. Nothing else makes you feel as guilty for being a lazy slob and at the same time happy you’re not the one two miles from a heart attack. All this and Paula Radcliffe weeing her pants: what more could you ask for?
Sunday morning I called up my friend Andrew and told him we were on our way. Andrew lives in a flat above Tooley Street. Tooley Street is just off Tower Bridge. Tower Bridge is the halfway point of the 25th London Marathon. Last year Anj and I watched the rain spatter down on the competitors from a boat on the Embankment – fun times. I made a promise to train for the next one – HA!
Laziness 1, Willpower 0.
Soon the masses, a steady stream of thousands, were thumping along on the pavement to the cheers and noisemaking of the gathered bystanders. The usual costumes - rhino, Superman, various burly men in drag - were soon followed by, er, unique entries: a five man caterpillar, a 16th-century page, and Mr. Happy. (no, not that one.) The runners thinned to a trickle, then petered out altogether. This year the sun shone throughout the run; many people having a beer cheered from their pubwise positions. We yelled encouragement out the window being careful not to spill our drinks.
I am coming to love the Marathon as an event. Nothing else makes you feel as guilty for being a lazy slob and at the same time happy you’re not the one two miles from a heart attack. All this and Paula Radcliffe weeing her pants: what more could you ask for?
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