That Was Chicago

A dim glow in the east with bright stars overhead.
The silhouette of the city against the dawning sky.
The rattle of the CTA train on the tracks.
Sunrise on the buildings along Michigan Avenue.
A near-full moon setting in the west.
Elite runners pacing before the start.
Sleek runners chomping at the bit.
Average runners milling around, stretching, talking, sitting, waiting.
Friends and family, smiling, holding hands.
Flying sweatshirts.
Beeping computers as the runners are off.
Screaming, cheering, pot-banging spectators in Lincoln Park.
Two brothers running together to the halfway point.
Volunteers holding out cups of Gatorade.
A wife jumping up and down yelling, "It's my husband! It's my husband!"
Kids with high-fives at the side of the road.
Pealing church bells.
A dancing dragon in Chinatown.
Honking semi trucks.
Banners hung from the overpass.
Banana peels and paper cups underfoot.
26.2 slow miles one at a time.
The finish line in sight with a quarter mile to go -- all downhill.
Congratulations hand on the shoulder.
A finishers medal over the neck.
Walking alone in the shade gasping between the tears.
Sore feet, cramping legs.
And the smiling faces of family at the end.

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Chicago Marathon, 2003.

8:51:56 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []  

addiction

Mark Pilgrim on Limbaugh's addiction (linked by redmonk)

He's just an addict. [...] there is not -- and this is the really important point -- there isn't a third option. You can be an addict, or you can be a recovering addict. There is no door #3.

5:06:59 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []