A couple of weeks ago, I woke up one morning knowing that I was going to walk up to Cafe Moca, DeSales Corner, and watch the Pig. And so I did, on this perfect morning for a marathon – mist in the air, keeping it cool, but nothing you could actually call rain. I got my large soy chai from Moca about 7 a m, and settled in to watch.
All the runners came past DeSales Corner, where the full marathoners turned right (Swine Flew said one of the t-shirts) and the half marathoners (‘I’m in half way – 13.1’ said another t-shirt) turned left, heading back down to the river.
I was standing right on the curb on Woodburn, close enough to high five some halves. And still managed not to see most of my friends who were running. It was a huge crowd, everyone up until about 8:45 was moving fast – and all of us viewers were clapping and shouting, pointing out the runaway bride outfits, the great variety of pig hats, the interesting running styles. So much people watching to do.
So I missed Robert and Teresa. Saw Kathleen and shouted, but she didn’t hear me. Jen saw me first – she’ll be a bride on the 23rd, but played it low key – didn’t have on a veil, as many did. Saw Mike – he didn’t hear me either. And Connie saw me first, and handed me her soggy jacket to keep.
By 9 a m it had become possible to cross the street back to Moca, where I got my usual breakfast – croissant, egg and veggie bacon – and wandered back down the hill to home. It was great to watch the town and my neighborhood go bananas over all those wonderful runners – we are no where near as stodgy as we’re often pictured! Un-stodginess is obviously part of what happens when Pigs Fly. And a great thing it is, too.