The end of a mini-marathon

Today was the Philadelphia half marathon.  I did not run it.  I didn't even stand on the sidelines and cheer.  What I did do was go jogging myself at the tail end of the race, next to the river on Kelly, with the sun glaring and powerful, the river high and muddy.  I watched the stragglers as I headed past; dragging their feet, or walking, heads low, exhausted but still going.  There wasn't any sort of crowd left to watch the race, but those of us on the pedestrian path, even while we were moving, cheered them on and sometimes got a bit of a nod in return.  When I reached the art museum steps (the beginning and end of any proper Philadelphia race), the announcer declared that all runners - those who stayed on course - had crossed the finish line.  There was a lull, and then he said, as an afterthought If you're still waiting for people, they might have gone off course, they might just be walking on a sidewalk at this point.  I imagined a family waiting expectantly for Uncle Willie, a sign that said You made it!  or We believe in you!, drooping as they looked up helplessly at the announcer on stage, wondering what to do next.  

Though I have never acted on the impulse, I've always played with the idea of running in a real race - maybe starting with a 10K and working my way up to a half-marathon (I would stop there.  A full marathon gets into real athlete territory, and that I will never quite be).  It must be really exhilarating to have a whole crowd of people cheering you on as you pass, waving and smiling, encouraging you to go for it.

I jog regularly - on average 5 miles or so.  The farthest I've ever made it is seven miles (my best estimate), and my husband assures me that I could do a half marathon with one leg tied behind my back -- after all, at a certain point, you're trained up and ready for any distance, right?  He's not a runner, and I'm not so sure.  But, maybe next time I should take a page from Uncle Willie's book and go for it - after all, if you run, walk, or limp across the finish line, you've still made it.  And that's something those stragglers, even the ones who veered off course, can be really proud of.