The London Marathon

When 40,000 people set a goal of running 26.2 miles through your city, you gotta go gawk for awhile. I'm a fan, and Mrs. Werbenmanjensen and I each had friends running, in any case, so we thought it might be fun to support them if we were able to pick them out of the hordes.

We set up a little short of mile 25, by which point the decisive break should be made in any good marathon, and in the women's race ...


... that certainly was the case, although in the men's race ...


... it was shaping up to be a finish for the ages. In the end, Martin Lel, the leader in the red vest (the guy whose bib says "Lel," natch) pulled away for a very thin margin of victory. Over his shoulder, you can see Paul Tergat (yellow vest, bib reads "Terg" in this photo), who has been at the top of elite running for more than a decade.

But of course, a big city marathon isn't a marathon without the ordinary blokes who commit four to six months of their lives to give the marathon a try. Lots of Elvises ....



.... Native Americans ....




... cavemen ....



... and even a Braveheart or two.



There were a few Supermen, and despite their not exactly moving faster than a speeding bullet, we still never managed to get a photo.

Tragically, the race was marred by a death. On a day in which the temperature reached into the mid-70s, it wasn't dehydration or heatstroke that claimed the life, but rather a condition that results from drinking too much water. (Actually, it comes from not having adequate sodium in the blood, but it's usually because people drink too much without getting enough sodium.)

(All photos by Mrs. Werbenmanjensen. Isn't she good?)