Today was the running of the Rock N Roll Marathon.
I had no idea, for me it was just another Saturday morning walk.
The first three runners zoomed past as I turned up Rock Creek
Park.
Dark, Kenyans, no doubt.
A fourth zoomed, a definite Ethiopian.
And then the masses, throngs of runners, minutes and miles
of runners, marathoners of all shapes and colors passed me by.
I had a momentary flashback to the USA/Pan Africa Track Meet
I attended in Durham in ’71.
A recent middle distance devotee,
I was in awe of the American runners I saw, Frank Shorter,
Steve Prefontaine. But I
was in triple awe of the African runners
who dominated the field that weekend: Kip Keino, Mirus Iftar,
Ben Jipcho, Robert Ouko.
Kenyans, Ethiopians, black like me.
African. And I so wanted to be African like them at the time.
Key Bridge was full of runners, crossing over to Virginia
and returning to Chocolate City.
I stayed on the DC side
and did 10 repetitions up and down the Lincoln Memorial steps.
All 41 of them. As my legs wearied and my knees ached I recalled
the speech at Gettysburg and thought about a new birth of
freedom.
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