Somewhere during the delirium that was Mile 23 of the Seattle Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon on Saturday, I happened to turn to look behind me, for just a second. Honestly, I was wondering at that point if anyone at all was behind me — I was doing so much worse, time- and pace-wise, than I’d planned. So I turn to my left — and who should I see but my pal Margaret.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been happier to see someone. It took me more than 5 hours to finish the stupid thing, and your brain plays some weird tricks on you while you’re running a crazy distance like that. When I try to recall the moment I ran into her on the Alaskan Way Viaduct, the scene my brain conjures up looks like we’re the two sole survivors in some kind of post-Apocalyptic Seattle.
We ran together for the rest of the race, bitching about the ridiculousness of the whole thing for most of the way, of course. We ran past her parents and our respective boyfriends, all cheering us on. And we crossed the finish line together.
I tend to pride myself on doing things alone, depending only on myself, but one of the many things I was forced to learn during this whole marathon thing is that leaning, at least a little bit, on other people can be — well, it can be kinda nice. (Eye roll, I know. But I mean it.)