TCM Time Again

I've crossed the finish line in a lot of marathons, 26.2 miles at a time, gradually moving back into the pack where things are crowded, where people look a lot like people I see every day at work, in class, at the grocery store.  They're not, like I once thought of myself, the go-getters, the demons, the dedicated souls who jump at the sound of their alarm clocks going off at 5 am and spring from their beds and are soon out the door, music in their ears, the dreams of a good finish driving them forward.  I'm back in the pack now, with the people in costumes, people with love handles, people who months ago decided they'd like to try one marathon to tick it off their bucket list.  Who knows why I'm doing it now, throwing down the gauntlet once again like I did today, forking over the entry fee for the Twin Cities Marathon, whose registration opened today and will soon fill.  Yes, 11,500  of us will pony up the cash, while only a few elite sprites will jockey in the lead pack, gliding through Minneapolis and St. Paul, grinding it out until they reach the Summit hill and ease down into the finish chute just short of the capitol building.  They'll finish in two hours and change, while many of us are chugging along through miles 16, 17, 18, hoping not to crash, eating our Gu and high-fiving the enthusiastic children lining the streets, hoping to glimpse those who love us enough to make signs and rise early to cheer us on.  October 2, 2011.