Marathon of a Morning

Twin Cities Marathon

Twin Cities Marathon

Mornings come early at this latitude. By 5:30 AM? Sunlight fills the bedroom — well, my bedroom, at least. The eastern bedroom. Chris’ bedroom? The western bedroom? Dark until 8 a.m. Separate bedrooms? Yes. I’m 20 lbs overweight and snore. He has insomnia. Another post, another day. Back to the sunshine… at 5:30 a.m.

I’m up and in the Beemer headed to Starbucks around 6 a.m. The top down, the breeze along the river. Glorious. NY Times. One iced quad vente non-fat latte. One iced quad vente skinny hazenut latte. (Chris calls it “hazebutt” — hates it. Makes me laugh every time. So what if we sleep separately. He still makes me laugh, right?) (Oh, and 20 lbs from now? Snore-free. Uni-bed. All I’m sayin’) Back to the lattes. And back across the river… oh… wait… It’s the marathon. And it’s snaking around my condo.

How could I not know that? I’m in PR. I read the paper. I surf the web. I talk to neighbors. How did I miss that it was the Twin Cities Marathon? I mean, come on, in NYC, my niece Farrah and I made a morning out of it. The marathon would come over the Pulaski bridge, take a sharp turn onto Jackson, quick right onto 50th, and another right onto Vernon, then over the the 59th Street Bridge. Common knowledge. Big fun.

So why am I stuck on the Hennepin Avenue bridge with two lattes and a paper while 10,000 runners check “marathon” off their goal sheets? Unbelieveable. I finally get off the bridge when a cop takes pity on the 100 cars that have been forced into spectatorship because someone forgot to pylon off the other side of the one-way bridge. Then I discover that the next block is closed as well, and end up parking two blocks from home, wading through my neighbors — who actually knew it was the marathon — only to walk into our unit to hear Chris grousing from the balcony: “Did you know it was the marathon? What are those idiots outside shouting and clapping about? Don’t they know it’s 7 a.m. on a Sunday morning?” Sip of iced quad vente non-fat latte. Second sip of iced quad vente non-fat latte. “Oh, wait — did you see that guy? Damn, check out those two… Hmmm — that one’s fit. Wow! We gotta get back to the gym. If only to watch!”

The joy of caffein. And the joy of the marathon. It’s all good.


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