The Swede participated in the Chicago marathon a couple weeks ago, and being the loving main squeeze that I am, I headed into the city at the ass-crack of dawn to support him. As he and his buddy took off on the race course, I wandered around the streets of Sweet Home taking pictures and generally lolling about. I headed over to what was about the 1.6 mile mark on the race course to see if I could catch a glimpse of the boys as they ran, but alas. There were crowds and more crowds and cheering and yelling, and all in all, large amounts of excitement, both from the runners (it was still early in the race) and the watchers on the sidelines.
Except for these people, who were standing kitty-corner from where I was.
Somehow I don’t think that’s really what the marathoners needed to see before they’ve even hit mile 2.