Boston Marathon! It's Better on the Sidelines

I am so glad that I got in a 10-miler with my little brother on Monday morning. Else I might not have been able to deal with the marathon.
Announcer: and who is that? Why, it's a slightly paunchy bandit! Where did she come from? And why is she screaming furiously as she weaves in and out of the finishers?
Yes: I might have had to run with the rest of them. The marathon is so inspiring!
At least, to runners. I'd never seen a marathon - or, actually, any running event - until after I had been running for a while.
The Speedy Blonde and I had a great spot between mile 24 1/2 and mile 25 on the course. I saw the male and the female elites. Wow.
And I saw my first bowel-release person. The most amazing part was, she was still trucking at about at 6:30 mile. If that's her slow-I-might-fall-over pace, I can't even imagine her fast pace!
It's things like that - people perservering even in the face of extreme pain/injury/fatigue, that make me want to cry, scream and run all over the place when I'm watching.
It's not for everyone, though.
There were two just-past-being-frat-boys sitting next to me, enjoying the sun and their beer. Upon seeing the women elites, and then the women very-fasts, one said:
"Wow. They're kinda skinny."
"Yes."
"We were here for eye candy."
"You might want to wait until Wave 2, then."
After a while, the Speedy Blonde and I wanted to get back to the finish, to make sure that we found To Badwater.
That was funny. Weaving through crowds and traffic, running along in a full-length down coat, clutching my purse under one arm, trying to keep up with the Speedy Blonde, who REALLY wanted to see To Badwater.
Add in about 5,000 gallons of beer and a Red Sox game, and you've got a party!
After running about, then around and back up the other side of the corrals - we couldn't cut over - we found To Badwater.
Another inspiring story. Check out his post about it.
Long story short, he started with a fever and a cold, knew he was fading at mile 7, and KEPT GOING.
Those are the amazing stories. When a race is going well, you don't really feel anything. Not really. It's an endorphine-induced haze.
Sure, there are always ouchies and passing thoughts of 'I can't do this'. You wouldn't be pushing hard if you didn't dry-heave at least once!
But it's when a race is going badly that real strength comes in.
Finishing even though a DNF is a viable option. Finishing because DNF is a viable, but not a required option. That's amazing.
I've seen a lot of people do this. But it gets me every time.
Now I have to stop typing. I might shed a tear or two.