Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

Runners' World

I once made a bet with a friend that I would beat him to the finish line in the next Cleveland Marathon. About two weeks before the race, in a mutual decision, we canceled the bet. That was in the days of pure amateurism in sports; and, officially, we did not want to jeopardize our amateur standing - extreme lack of training was the other reason.

The Cleveland Marathon was run this past weekend. I don't know who the named sponsor is. It was called the Revco Cleveland Marathon for many years, then Revco was sold to another company. I happened to be walking the dogs Sunday morning at about the start time and watched a large stream of people running down West 6th Street, spectators screaming encouragement from the sidewalks, interrupting my usual Sunday morning walk in solitude. The line of people at Starbucks, where I usually stopped, after tying up the dogs in front of the Nauti Mermaid Restaurant next door, for a latte, stretched out the door onto the sidewalk.

Marathon running as a spectator sport can't be as exciting as the cheering people on the sidewalks make it out to be. It exceeds golf as the most boring spectator sport. At least, the spectator of a golf match can walk along and see the entire match and doesn't have to run along for 26.2 miles. What is the attraction? There are very few crashes, as in auto racing, the fans of which lust for conflagrations on the track. But the fans were out there, many yelling, generically, as it were, "Go, runners!" What kind of cheer is that? At least, they could be more personal, "Go, Runner Five Thousand Six Hundred and Thirty-Seven, Go!" or "Run your ass off, Steve!" There must be at least one runner named Steve in the group.

So, I didn't stop for my customary Sunday morning dog-walking latte; but it was cool that all these people with their kids and their dogs were enjoying themselves in the early morning chill.

Later, I took the dogs out at about 10:30 in the morning. Runners were still crossing St. Clair Avenue, but up the road a piece -- stragglers, I guess. Weird thing, though. Clothes were strewn all over the street, on the sidewalks, and in bushes along West 6th Street, where the torrent of runners had rushed south hours earlier -- a cornucopia of clothing. Shirts, jackets, hats, gloves -- running can get expensive if they're throwing clothes around all over town.

So, not being familiar with this running thing, like some of you, I have questions: Do they come back and pick up their clothes? Or can anyone pick up these abandoned articles of clothing? Are unclaimed clothes collected by race organizers and donated to shelters? If the runners want their clothes back, do they run the race course again just to pick up the clothes they have discarded? How do they remember where they discarded their clothes?

Posted by Bill at May 18, 2009 10:03 PM