Last Saturday, the Hartford Marathon and Half Marathon occurred in my hometown.  Seeing that part of the route was a 3 minute walk from my apartment, I decided to walk down and cheer on the runners.

The part of the marathon route I saw was where the runners turned left onto Farmington Avenue after running southward on Whitney Street.  As I approached the intersection, I heard the clanging of cowbells being shaken by volunteers.  There was music playing on big speakers, and there was an enthusiastic volunteer cheering on the runners, saying “Lets Go!”, “You’re almost home!”, and other cheers.

There was a mass of runners of all shapes, sizes, and ages jogging and sweating as they turned the corner.  They were locals who were running in their first marathon, veteran runners, and even a person who was competing in marathons in all Fifty States.  As I watched them running in the cold October morning, my first thought was “better them than me!”.  I admired them taking on a challenge and trying to achieve it, or just running out of a sheer joy of running, as the vast majority have no expectations of winning. 

As the runners were passing by, I occasionally saw people running with time markers signs.  I asked a volunteer what they were, and he responded that they were pace setters.  What that meant was that if a person held a sign saying 4:30, it meant that if someone else kept up with them, they would finish the marathon in 4 hours and 30 minutes.  The marathon markers were were in green, and the half-marathon signs were in blue.

After a half hour of watching and cheering on the crowd of sweaty people moving their legs at various speeds, the horde ended and I went back home.  The Hartford Marathon is a nice community event that brings everyone out, and makes you forget the troubles of the world for a little while.