Marathon Sunday photo shoot

What's my favorite fall event?  Marathon Sunday!  The last couple of years, Trish and I came out to support our cousin, Al.  Al didn't run this year, but we decided to join the cheering throngs anyway at our usual spot, the mile 26 marker in Central Park. 

Mile 26 is a sadist's wet dream.  You get to see the limping, grimaced masses hurl themselves toward the finish line in return for a gold medal and a foil blanket.  It's also where all the cheering, happy, Oprah-live-your-best-life, sensitive souls go to restore their faith in humanity by screaming words of encouragement to an 80-year old man whose legs look like they're just a stride away from splintering in half.  Trish and I like to hang out there as well. 

All joking aside, it is the best spot for an inspirational moment.  I, myself, have broken down in tears on this very spot, usually cheering some kind of "challenged" person make their way toward the finish line surrounded by a group of friends in "Team (insert name here)" T-shirts.  But perhaps I'm not the best person to judge.  I cry at any movie that ends with a marriage proposal, surprise reunion or death from fatal disease.  This year, we dragged along Trish's friend Billy, a marathon virgin. 

Hopping the subway into town, we emerged at the 59th Street-Fifth Avenue subway stop to a wave of cheers and applause.  Not for us, of course, but for the runners along 59th Street.  We cut across the southwest corner of the park to our usual spot, right in front of the "26 mile" banner, next to a young, enthusiastic couple with noisemakers.  What better way to get into the spirit of the marathon, right?  Wrong.  This couple was hardcore. 

For those of you who've never attended the marathon before, most runners print their names on their t-shirt so you can cheer for them as they run by.  This couple managed to scream out every single name, non-stop for the whole hour we watched, all the while ringing their cowbell and screaming encouragements like "You're almost there!", "Looking good Inge and Yamahiro!" and "Keep up the good work - this is the best part!"  Really?  The best part?  Compared to what?

Anyway, with our voices horse from screaming and hands red from clapping, we decided we'd had enough marathon excitement for this year.  With the daylight savings sun fading fast, Trish whipped out her camera for a festive fall photo shoot in the park.

I've recently been updating Trish's photography website and noticed that her gallery lacked ethnic spice.  Enter Billy.  He's black.  'Nuff said?

Sadly, we waited just a bit too long to start our photo shoot.  Trish uses natural light and no flash, so all the pictures turned out just slightly blurry.  Still, they were fun and festive.