It’s the mileage.
And it’s the years.
There’s a long tradition of funny, supportive signs along race courses, spectators shouting encouragement and showing their creativity on posterboard. Call them running memes.
“Worst Parade Ever!” is popular.
So too is a photo of Christopher Walken emblazoned with either “More Cowbell!” or “No time for Walken!”
“You’re running better than the government!” is a usual suspect, given greater prominence in these days of vitriolic shutdowns.
But the one recurrent sign that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately evokes a Taylor Swift song. Many a time have I passed a waving fan proclaiming a variation on TS’s “22” – “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 26.2!”
At the moment though I’m very much feeling “42… point 195.”
***
At Friday’s race expo, I had the good fortune to run into a few running friends from days gone past.
Jim and Brian are long time traveling souls/sole mates of mine, having crossed paths everywhere from Honolulu to Fargo to various corners of the globe. Brian told me he loved this race as it was where he finally went sub-3. He asked me if I had done it yet and I admitted I’ve only come close but that that was a long time ago. He encouraged me and said he thought tomorrow was my day and wishes me a sub 2:58 as that would guarantee me entry into New York City. “That’s because we’re old,” Brian chuckled. It was both true, ironic, sarcastic, and encouraging but given my current mindset a but troubling too, though I know Brian meant only good things by it.
The morning of the 9th, the morning of the race, the forecast preducts it to be 40-ish. Brisk to some, cold to others. Pretty good weather to run a race… if the wind holds off. Is this perhaps a gifted day, a chance to go sub-3?
Expectations and dreams… dreams and expectations. They often lead to disappointment but every so often spur one on in the name of hope and aspiration.
Will tomorrow be the former or the latter?
Is it to be a day to take joy in the journey or to break the tape on a destination?
It is the mileage. And the years.