Imagine running a race with nary a person, no clapping, no selective sounds, no finish line cheers. You’ve trained for months for that 5k, half marathon or full marathon and on race day, the only noises are feet hitting the pavement among the din of everyday life.
Now imagine running that same route among throngs of people – all wishing – all hoping – for one thing – your success. The hum of excitement and distant cheers on race day are the collective sounds formed by runners’ biggest supporters – the spectators.
Runners usually receive a medal for their efforts. Spectators take home no bling. If asked, a spectator wants no recognition. They are in attendance simply to share in the excitement of the day and pay it forward to someone else.
So I want to tell you, spectator, how you and your actions have helped me and continue to inspire. Read on. You’ll know who you are.
The Family/Friend Spectator: You are the person that comes to see me on race day, even though it’s likely we will only see each other for a few seconds. You stand there, rain or shine, cold or hot, waiting for the moment. What you may not know is I am thinking about you long before you cheer my name. “If I can just make it to mile 3, 10 or 20” I think. Just knowing YOU will be there gives me a sense of hope, excitement and relief. You are my silent partner. Then the moment arrives and I see you in the crowd. You are the person I can smile at knowingly, the friend I can bitch to if I’m feeling awful, and the one whom I know will be shouting my name with gusto, encouraging me no matter what.
The Clever Sign Maker: Your sign makes me LOL. It gives me a smile when I least expect it. You remind me that there is a finish line and good things await such as beer, bacon, Ryan Gosling and puppies. Your sign mocks bodily functions which sometimes betray runners during a race, “Keep Calm and Don’t Poop.” Your words tell me that scary clowns and zombies are chasing me so I should pick up my pace. Your poster wryly admonishes: “You’re not the Pope so you can’t quit.” I never tire of your humor and wit. Your sign inspires me and sums up how much I love being a part of the “Worst Parade Ever.”
The Awww Factor: You are in preschool or grade school. You are wearing an oversized homemade shirt that is sharpied with the words “Go Mommy.” Your cuteness factor goes up when you hold out your little hand for a high (or a low) five for runners. Your little sister or brother is sitting in a stroller with a sign attached that says “I love you Mommy” or “I love you Daddy” complete with handprint and stick people wearing medals. Your chubby cheeked charm gets me all choked up – even if your signs aren’t for me.
Spectators with Big Heads: Nothing makes a runner smile or cringe more when spectators have an enlarged photo of a person’s head for all to see. A funny photo or multiple big heads help me to forget my aching quads. If it happens to be my head, I will spot you more quickly than you spot me. Yes, I love seeing spectators with big heads, which in this case, are a good thing.
The Surprise Spectator: You are the spectator that decides you will surprise or shock your runner along the route on race day. Perhaps you decided that morning over a cup of coffee, or you planned your attendance months in advance. In either case, your unexpected appearance (whether it’s a shock or a surprise) is welcome and appreciated when I need an extra boost to the finish.
More Cowbell: You are the spectator that brings a noisemaker (usually a cowbell or vuvuzela) . You jump up and down shaking or blowing said noisemaker. Or maybe you’re that guy who put his clock radio at the end of his driveway and blared music to runners (yes, I witnessed this in the iPhone age). While your spectator friends standing nearby probably loathe you, I enjoy the “music” you make coupled with your cheers. Maybe it’s because I know I will be soon be running away from the sound if I pick up my pace. Whatever the reason, it works for me.
Pom Pon shakers: You are the spectator that brings pom pons and becomes a cheerleader for the day. Sometimes you are a real cheerleader. Either way, I love your pep especially when I’m tiring in a run and lacking energy.
The Free Hugger: You are the guy or girl that stands with a sign that says “Free Hugs.” Sometimes I don’t feel like stopping and getting a hug. I do forget about the blister on my baby toe because I am grinning with the knowledge that someone is willing to hug a sweaty stranger for no particular reason.
Costumed Spectator: You dig through your Halloween costumes and pull out a doozy for race day. Seeing a tutu clad gorilla clapping on the side of the road is a delightful distraction for my brain which has been focused on my achy IT band for the past few miles. Yes, you are a welcome diversion.
Costumed Runner: (not an official spectator but you help me anyway). You dig through your Halloween costumes and pull out a doozy for race day. You decide to go Hawaiian theme and slip on a hula outfit complete with coconut bra for your marathon run. I smile as you pass me but I soon frown at the realization that even though I’m wearing a ridiculously expensive wicking techno bra and run skirt, I can’t catch up to your grassy one. But I still try.
The Other Costumed Runner: Squeezing into a Superman onesie with a cape is always a winner. You are running the same race as me so I think I must be Super too. It’s okay if you pass me and can’t catch up, because duh, you’re Superman – you’re supposed to beat me.
The Foodie: You are the spectator that cooks up pounds of bacon and offers slices on a plate at mile 19 along with a paper cup beer chaser to any interested runner. You are the non-race affiliated person that quarters dozens of oranges, slices strawberries or bananas and hands them out on the race route — just because. While I may have a GU packet to replenish myself, sometimes it’s not enough. Your gifts of unexpected flavors and sweetness give me a new focus and propel me through my low sugar doldrums.
Just seeing you, dear spectator, whether you are a clapping gorilla, serving a GU sidecar, or promising Gosling at the finish, reassures me that my race day is worthy.
Otherwise, it would be just another run on just another day.
Love spectators with big heads 🙂
Thank you for sharing.