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  • I have run half-marathons in Miami, Florida, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and Cleveland, Ohio.

    I've run half-marathons through San Francisco, San Jose, Santa Cruz, Oakland and San Leandro, California. Whenever I have run over the Golden Gate bridge it has been foggy. I ran a marathon in New York City! I have maps, trinkets, gear bags, and t-shirts. I have magnets on the back of my car signifying my membership in the club of half-marathon runners; I have photos of me, grinning like a fiend, along race paths and at finish lines. I have big finisher medals on long ribbons, which were suitable for games of Olympics, played by my grandchildren until 2008, when Barack Obama's election made games of President more compelling.

    I have ear-hustled during races, and learned, among other things:

    - she'd only been going out with him for four months when he proposed;

    - she had to do an 18-mile training run on a treadmill at the gym in the dead of winter;

    - her mortgage was $3,000 and her monthly salary is $3,900., which means this won't work for long.

    I fell on my face along the Marina in San Francisco while running a half-marathon, and the hands of strangers righted me. People I didn't know from a can of paint asked if I was all right, dusted me off, checked for broken skin, teeth or glasses, and, assured that I would live, ran on. Total strangers offered me water, oranges, energy gels and high-fives, all of which I accepted as though I'd known each of them all my life.

    It's all right there.
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