I’m an Asshole: Marathon Monday

Joshua Scott Ricker

Run Bitches was the clever sign a friend made a few minutes before we all walked out to the street and began cheering/heckling the runners. Some laughed at the sign but spectators scoffed. Anyone with a name plastered on their shirt was pounced on and cheered, sometimes with negative afterthoughts once they passed. If any dared walk, they were reminded that it was a marathon not a walkathon. A few actually took it as encouragement and began running right after passing us.

I was only out there for a few minutes, beer in a red cup, marathoning in my own liquid way, when my phone vibrated with a text from a friend asking if I was alright. I said yes and checked my twitter, thinking something was wrong.  AP tweeted that two explosions had rocked the marathon finish line. I said this aloud and someone concurred, they had just heard the same.  Drunk at 3:00, we continued to egg people on with less heckling now, hoping it was an electrical fire as some contended.  Under our breaths, after cheering, we said, “Don’t worry, there’s nothing going on at Copley” and laughed afterward.

A cop who had yelled at my friends previously about being a bit too overt with their drinking walked over to us and said the marathon was over. Two devices had exploded at the finish line. I thanked him for telling us and he walked away.  We all stood silent for a minute.  I looked down at my phone to check AP’s feed for any more news and when I looked up, a person was running backwards in front of a member of the Military Police.  Clearly a sister or girlfriend, she encouraged this soldier to continue running with his full gear on.  He ran, but slowly.  I began yelling at him to keep it up, he was almost there, wanting him to finish after working so hard with all that weight but knowing he wouldn’t and I felt like an asshole.  A complete stupid fucking asshole.