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Lost And Found

October 18, 2009


I wish I could find the picture they took of me last week before the race, waiting in line to use the porta-potty. I was sleep deprived, freezing, and in need for a pee — at the low of all lows. That is when conversations can strike up with strangers and bond you for life. Except that I can’t remember their names. And I can’t find the picture on the MarathonFoto site. We were all dressed in layers of throwaway clothing, looking like nerds on an expedition to discover infectious diseases in outer space. There was the lady with the southern accent who gave me one of her HotHands warmers to stuff in my glove. She was running with a partner and hoping to break four hours. And there were the sisters from Michigan. One had a knee injury and was hoping to just finish. The other one had a newborn at home and looked like a Vogue supermodel. Sometimes I wish I could remember names better. I have a friend from a past life — we’ll call him Tom. That’s his real name. He said he’d run a half with me next year. Well, not in so many words. But maybe we’ll run a race together. Should be fun to run the same pace with someone. Kind of like arguing violently about healthcare reform with someone who shares my views. Something to look forward to.





Art: Promises | MOCCA | Music Video, by Ricardo Situmorang, available under Attribution-Noncommercial license

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