The inner spectator, discovered

As part of life's latest lessons in humility and self-discovery, this weekend had me resigned to sitting on the sidelines of the Madrid Marathon. My marathon. The one that wasn't meant to be.

I had hoped to camp out and break out the pompoms down around kilometer 32 ... the make or break point for the marathon newbies who, like me, risk throwing in the towel right about then without having a little extra moral support.

As life would have it, though, we instead ended up parked in the grass with the sun in our eyes and the marching band in our ears right at kilometer 39...perfectly placed to cheer on the runners that are apparently perceived to be the ones who no longer need cheering on..

Marcel and I were a superhuman cheering section of 2 amid a vast and empty pavement void of any spectators showing signs of life. We hooted, we hollered, we clapped...we tried to make up for the hundreds of fans that were suddenly MIA. And guess what? I actually enjoyed it.

That's right, me, the one who wouldn't be caught dead watching a sport if I can play it. I loved trying to figure out just the right thing to say to put a smile on a couple runners' face and take their minds of those last 3 uphill kilometers.

We screamed the names of the few that wore them on their shirts.

We whooped and hollered at all 20 of the iconic women who ran (conscientiously or not) as models of female perseverance and strength in a clearly male-dominated (Spanish) domain.

We kindly reminded them they could rest tomorrow, but that now was not the time.

We sharpened their minds to the cool beer waiting for them at the finish, and that a little bodily pain is all part of the fun and the game.

We screamed at them not to worry, it was "just your body, nothing a little pain killer can't fix."

We told them they had it, that the end was but two steps away.

We yelled for them to stop looking at their watches, that their times were great, that they were almost there.

We called them campeones.

For their part, well, they grunted, they smiled, they nodded, they barked in reply.

They said thanks.

In the end, though, I'm pretty sure that I'm the one that should be saying thanks--for helping me to discover my inner spectator. Who knew being a cheerleader could be so much fun?? I may just have to consider a career change and drop the whole running thing altogether.

I can almost see it now, headlining in a small town paper near you: "Wanna Be Runner-turned-Wanna Be Cheerleader becomes Marathon World's Most Coveted Race Volunteer." No? Ah, well, it was worth a shot. Perhaps as a retirement back-up; it was a heck of a lot'o'fun.

PS Does it take a magnifying glass to figure out why this picture pretty much figures among my top 3 personal absolute fav race pictures??