Marathon Faces

Before we get to today’s post, my wife brought up a good point about my previous post that was somewhat echoed in the comments. She suspects I might be overly enthusiastic about Chris Daughtry because, 1) He’s male, and 2) His last 2 songs have been the type of alt-rock songs that are right up my alley.

You know what? She’s right. Point taken. Mandisa’s got a pretty good set of pipes on her, and maybe she’ll win. (For the record, I did say she would finish second, so I wasn’t too dismissive of her talent). And any contest where teeny-boppers and drunk college kids are prime movers in the outcome has to be regarded as somewhat of a crapshoot.

So bring on the final 12, and let’s see what transpires. May the best bald man or great big woman win.


Anyway, on to today’s post…I received my Marathon Foto e-mail yesterday with pictures from the Napa Marathon. Here are a few of them, with some accompanying thoughts:

Photo 1: Approximately mile 5. That’s me in the poncho I bought at the race expo, which will go down as two of the best-spent dollars I’ve ever parted with. I kept the hood up for almost 8 miles, trying to block out as much of the outside elements as possible. At one point I had the drawstrings pulled so tight that I almost needed a straw to drink Gatorade at the aid stations.


Photo 2: Mile 14. Having the hood of my poncho up gave me a bit more protection from the rain, but caused another problem: the blowing wind sounded like a hurricane through the plastic right next to my ears. It's funny, but once I pulled the hood down and realized how much quieter things had gotten, it settled me down a bit and helped me shift into “let’s get to work” mode. From the poncho outline you can tell we were still facing a pretty good headwind.


Photo 3: Mile 24. Is this the face of…exhaustion? Determination? Frustration? Anguish? Resilience? Strength? The answer to any of those would be yes. This was the stretch when I knew my fate but kept plugging away as if I still had something to race for.

I like seeing photos of myself in the final miles of a marathon. I’m always struck by how normal-looking I appear, given all of the physical and mental turmoil that I’m invariably feeling at that point. Even many years later, I can see a picture of myself in a race and remember exactly what I was thinking at that point of the race.

That last photo is the face of a guy giving his best effort on a miserable day, trying with all his ability to persevere in the face of adversity, even when the desired outcome was no longer possible.

In short, it’s the face of a marathon runner.