Thank you big afro guy, whoever you are...

 If you keep coming back to my blog, from time to time you're gonna get running stuff.  I'll try, over time, not to over do it.  Today's one of those days however, as I give credit to the many and varied people who help marathoners cross the finish line.

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  Hillary Clinton once said "It takes a village to finish a marathon" or something like that.  She was right.  Running a bit over 26 miles isn't easy.  To run it as fast as you possibly can requires all kinds of help.  I know - I've run a few of them and couldn't have done it without three distinct types of assistance.

The Cheering Section:
   Unless you've been on the runners side of the cheering spectator / runner interaction, you just can't imagine the turbo boost of energy those yells and screams of encouragement provide.  And by encouragement, I include such exclamations as "Pick it up buttercup!" I'll never forget the time my whole family surprised me eighteen miles into the Grand Rapids marathon by appearing in neon yellow "Go Hempy!" shirts and colorful wigs.  If that's not love... and at that moment, yes, this buttercup picked it up.

The Aid Volunteer:
  Remember, a marathon is a race.  When I'm in marathon shape, I can run 26 miles without help.  But going all out, running for time - different story.  The body of even world class marathoners has hydration and calorie requirements that must be respected to avoid disaster.  Every mile or two during a well run marathon the runners pass through aid stations where volunteers hold out cups of water or Gatorade and still others offer anything from a gel pack to half a banana to keep the engine firing.  Incidentally, random spectators have offered me everything from beer to popsicles along the way.  Twenty miles into a marathon, it's amazing what you'll eat from the hand of a total stranger.

The Distraction:
 Marathons hurt.  I don't care how high your level of conditioning may be, running as fast as you can for hours on end involves sometimes high levels of discomfort.  If packing it in at mile 22 isn't part of your race day strategy, then nothing helps to cope with severe muscle distress better than a good distraction.  Something or someone to claim your mind and attention for even a couple minutes can truly save the day.  I could fill an entire blog post just recounting some of the awesome distractions that have helped me endure late-race suffering.  I'd love to tell you all about kissing a Wellesely girl or running with Wonder Woman, but I can't think of heaven sent distractions without recalling big afro guy.  With about a mile to go at Boston '09, I was a hurtin' unit.  Running seemingly slower by the stride, I realized that this runner with a huge, I mean like four feet across, afro wig was about thirty feet ahead of me.  I was actually able to focus on picking up my pace to that glorious left onto Boylston with one thought in mind.  Big afro guy is NOT going to be in my finishing photo!  Vain? Perhaps.  But I finished stronger than I had any right to.

 So if you've ever cheered on a marathoner, gotten splashed with Gatorade while trying to hand the cup to a runner, or held a funny sign over your head like "Your feet must hurt from kicking so much ass", thank you.  Thank you for being part of the effort. Indeed for making the glory of finishing the race possible. And thank you big afro guy, for not trying to match my finishing kick.