A Sunday that was cold, foggy, wet yet so full of heat, passion, frenzy and attitude. We should learn NOT to judge life by weather but, spirit.
Runners of all sizes, manners and age.
FRIENDLY AND HELPFUL STEWARDS...
Now and then I would see a face I knew, yet so slow was I (in glee ) that the straggling runner would be gone. Take Sofia. I hadn't seen her for ages and before i knew (this is Sofia) she was off...oh shit. Too late. Cheer, watch, or take photos? The other hidden, mini marathon.
A day called people...
THESE MASSAGE GIVING VOLUNTEERS FROMALZHEIMER SOCIETY OFFERED FREE SERVICES TO THE RUNNERS.
Funnily...
One of my main intentions was to cheer and photograph the Maasai Warriors who had been all over the news for days, yet failed. As soon as the Sextet appeared chanting and doing their small Morani step dances,
I was spell bound, screeching and screaming like a maniac, forgetting I had a camera. By the time I remembered, my hands were shaking like a hungry rattle snake and they, like Sofia, were gone. Doing a marathon is not easy, I tell you.
KENYANS : SAMMY, BRENDA, DENNIS, WINNIE, KENTE(who also raps), EDWIN. PROUDLY WITH THEIR FLAG AFTER WITNESSING MARTIN LEL WINNING THE MARATHON AGAIN THIS YEAR.
Yes.
I grew up amongst the Maasais and being shit "scared" of them in Arusha, north Tanzania. They had a reputation for short tempers. Once I witnessed a fight between a Maasai and a Hehe (another warrior tribe who had fiercely fought the Germans during colonisation under Chief Mkwawa
in 1890’s in South Tanzania). We all circled them watching, stupefied expecting kilograms of blood, to be honest. In the ensuing scuffle and battle, the Maasai was so angry and swooning that he was drama in itself. Guess what ? There was no fight; as we ended up laughing at the unfinalised, spectacle. From that day in early 1970's, I concluded like any impressionable boy, that Maasai were better at killing lions more than foolish boxing.
CHARITY FOR CHILDREN WITH LEUKEMIA...
The London Marathon presented humanity at best.
RICHARD ALL THE WAY FROM BOLIVIA
TAKING VIDEOS...
The cheering voices of especially ladies, friends urging and egging friends and family members on, people with disabilities, those who had lost energy but kept trekking mouths open, knees almost sagging and breaking, all manner of artistic and trapeze clowns, happy ones, sad ones, old and young; middle aged; black, white, brown; athletic or frail, all here in multi-layers, en masse.
RUNNER GRAHAM MAIRS, FROM MANCHESTER.
SNAP OF HIM AND MYSELF BY HIS WIFE. HAPPY TO HAVE FINISHED RACE IN ONE PIECE.
It was especially great to see the onlookers tagging in the rain, watching the runners running in (and against) the rain.
DAY OF FEET , WATER, PANTING AND UMBRELLAS.
I recalled when I used to run long distance; the feelings that go thru you: wanting to give up, in pain, fighting and enjoying at the same time. At times you swear you shall never do it again; somehow, like a career sinner, you return.
To life...
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