--------------------
Antics keep wacky pace to long race
--------------------
Runners in costume and cheering crowds offering snacks and encouragement give a
fun feel to Baltimore's annual marathon
By Rona Marech
Sun reporter
October 16, 2005
The sun emerged for Baltimore's marathon and running festival yesterday,
bringing along enthusiastic crowds who lined the 26.2-mile route, sat on stoops,
handed out snacks, cheered until their voices were hoarse and - in the final
yards - waved you-made-it signs and offered you-made-it hugs to the weary masses
who ran, walked, jump-roped and otherwise crossed the finish line.
"I had to stop clapping because my hands burn," said Margaret Franz, 74, of
Timonium, who was sitting along on 33rd Street, about three-fourths of the way
through the course. "You clap and their faces are so drawn and they smile and
say 'thank you' and your heart goes to your throat ... Some look like they can't
make it, but they keep pushing and pushing."
She pulled off her glasses, wiped her eyes, then settled back in her folding
chair. She was waiting for her 20-year-old grandson to pass. "I want to grab him
and hug him but I wouldn't dare - it will break his stride," she said. "If you
hear a loud scream, it will be me."
Ingrid Johnson stationed herself around mile 20, just after a big hill near Lake
Montebello. A running coach and a runner herself, she figured the 3,000
participants would be in need of some love just about then - especially because
the temperature, which was 63 degrees when the race began and rose to 74
degrees, was unusually high for a marathon.
She and some other members of her running club had set themselves up with signs,
Skittles, M&Ms, pretzels, orange slices, bananas, Advil and salt tablets.
Johnson was holding a "nice butt" sign. Others were taking turns on a makeshift
amplifier, shouting, "Marathoners, looking sexy!" and "Good job, guys."
"Mile 20 is where most people hit the wall," she said. After that, "it's 50
percent body and 50 percent mind. With the heat and hills, they need
encouragement."
They got their encouragement. They got water and Gatorade. They got dogs dressed
up in "You go girl!" signs. They got extra hoots for outrageousness.
One man ran in a powder blue tuxedo. A woman from New Jersey wore black bat
wings with glittery purple lining and matching purple ears. She ran to shouts of
"Go, Batgirl" and "Keep flying!" One man jump-roped his way along the route;
another juggled.
Runners met with an especially boisterous crowd in Charles Village. Residents
had signed up to volunteer, and John Spurrier, who had worked as a disc jockey
in graduate school, had hauled out his sound system and was playing hip-hop,
Motown, oldies, reggae and dance music from a front porch. Families came out
with their kids and dogs. People were dancing in the street.
A little farther along Guilford Avenue, a woman dressed in a furry tiger outfit
was boogieing on the roof of a white Toyota. And farther yet, two kids were
spraying runners with a hose and Stuart Siegler had returned, for the fifth
year, with 120 pounds of gummy bears.
"It's the perfect late-race snack," he said. "You can hold it in your hand, it
won't melt, if you inhale you won't die. The best part is you can bite their
little heads off."
Siegler moved to New Hampshire two years ago, but he returns every fall for the
race. "This is my way of giving back," he said.
Back at Camden Yards, where the marathon began and ended, spectators watched the
5-kilometer runners and the kids' race. They saw the wheelchair racers and elite
runners glide through the finish line. And they kept cheering as runners - the
"real people," as one man put it - continued to push through the finish. Some
limped. Some threw hands up into the sky as they crossed the line. Others put
their heads in their hands.
About 1 p.m., five hours after the race began, scores of runners milled in the
parking lot, munching on potato chips and standing in line for massages. They
lay in the grass in flip-flops inspecting blisters and they posed proudly for
photographs, participation medals around their necks. They talked about the
deadly hills, about the 11th mile, about the beer they planned to drink.
Runner Ann Polites, 22, of Canton was exuberant. "It's surreal," she said. "I've
never done this before. I'm not a runner. I have asthma. But you just get
through it. Your mind goes other places. Each mile you think, 'I've done that.
I've done that.' Then people cheering keeps you going. You think about your
family."
In particular, Polites thought of her father. She was part of a group of runners
who had raised money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Her father has
myeloma, she said, and she ran in his honor. On one arm, she had written "my
pop, my hero."
"Hopefully," she said as she walked off to find her family, "my dad can run with
me next year."
rona.marech@baltsun.com
Copyright (c) 2005, The Baltimore Sun | Get Sun home delivery
Link to the article:
http://www.baltimoresun.com/news/local/bal-md.marathon16oct16,1,3589691.story?coll=bal-local-headlines
Visit http://www.baltimoresun.com
View the top 25 most popular e-mailed articles
http://www.baltimoresun.com/emailed
Get home delivery of The Sun
http://www.baltimoresun.com/subscribe