" "Ma'am, the Red Cross First Aid Tent is right back there."
I look back from where I had come and resolutely replied, "I'm not going back." "
It was a hot day in Hopkinton, Massachusetts.
This was the Boston Marathon. The projected forecast was clear skies, with a high of 85 degrees. The heat intimidated everyone, even the Kenyans. The lines at the port-o-potties never ended as the bladders of 20,000 runners worked furiously to get rid of excess fluid. The communal nerves didn't help much either. Despite the difficulties I was about to face, my spirits soared.
The gun went off and the race began. "Slowly," I said to myself, "Take it out slowly."
....Continued in the Canadian Marathon Stories
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