Did you win?

After a marathon I wear my medal all day.  Even if all day means lounging at home, in my PJs, watching bad movies, and eating “Smart”food popcorn.  Sunday afternoon I strutted around DC with my giant shiny medal in full view.  At the giant foot of Abe Lincoln a nice family came up to me and, at the nudging of her offspring, the mom asked if I ran the marathon.  I said yes.  She asked if I won.  I said no.  So she asked about the medal.  I said they give everyone a medal, even the people who don’t win.  She said “how nice” and asked if her kids could put their sticky germ-ridden hands on it.  I said yes, then repolished and sanitized it after they walked away.  A friend wore his to a pub for a post-race pint and had a similar conversation with the bar matron, who assumed that the big-ass medal meant he had won the race.  His conversation ended with a snooty, oh they give those medals to everyone? 

Did you win is my favourite marathon question.  My second favourite, as you may remember, is how far is this marathon?  I think most people imagine the races of their school days and picture eight people lining up on a track, where the odds of a win seem reasonable.  They do not envision a mass 20,000 starting in waves from faster to slower (in theory), where the odds of winning decrease as the distance from the start line increases.  I like to give people some random number, like I finished 1113.  Then I tell them the winner ran in the Olympics.  I imagine they are suitably impressed with my ability to run far behind the elite.