Run Oma Run

We were marathon-crazy this weekend. The Berlin Marathon is well-liked by runners because of its flat, historic course. We liked the course, too - it went right in front of our apartment. The whole neighborhood seemed to have the same idea - "hey, let's grab some pretzels, our biggest pack of cigarettes, loudest pots and pans, and go watch the race!" Nothing says “let’s celebrate this incredible athletic accomplishment” more than being flanked by smoking couples at our front curb. Instead of joining in, I saved my euros for the "Marathon Party Bratwurst Stand" at the end of our street.

Saturday marked the roller-blader marathon day. The same course used for the runners on Sunday was taken over by 7,000 roller-bladers who whizzed by us. We were sufficiently impressed (and dizzy from staring at them going by) when I noticed something amiss. Did I see…jeans? Oh yes, there were a number of competitors sporting not only jeans, but jean shorts. It became our mission to capture some of the best.














Hey, you might need a backpack, too. You never know.

Nothing says "comfort for 42.195 kilometers" like some stiff jean shorts. But it does make it easier to get to the bar afterwards.

Sunday's race started at 9 and the first runners came past our apartment just past 10. The cheering began well before that, though. Hey, why not cheer for each Polizei truck that goes by to clear the road! Stray bikers, lost dogs, you all deserve encouragement! Our young neighbors led the charge in the cheering department, fully equipped with a fleet of pots and pans and their own handmade flag signs. (Sorry, US of A, no love from the 8-year-olds this time.)

The excitement was palpable as the first runners were spotted at the end of our Strasse. I immediately recognized one of this year’s Olympic winners, Ethiopian runner, Haile Gebrselassie. He won the marathon Sunday and made a new world record (beating his own from last year). Courtesy of Wikipedia, I found reason to like him even more. They reported, “Gebrselassie was born as one of ten children in Asella, Arsi Province, Ethiopia. As a child growing up on a farm he used to run ten kilometres to school every morning, and the same back every evening. This led to a distinctive running posture, with his left arm crooked as if still holding his schoolbooks.” Hard to confirm with the picture below, but he’s the one in yellow. It was SO EXCITING when these guys ran past!

The street was packed for a long while, and we tried out different German cheers (plus some frequent yells of “Dig deep!” from Dominic, just for fun). We clapped in time with the little girl’s pots and pans band, and took turns running down the street for warm drinks and pretzels.
Things got really fun once the pros were past us and the slower runners began coming by. The crazy outfits, the inspiring stories – there’s enough drama in a marathon to make a good opera. Our cheers fell on welcome ears at this point – these were the people who had written their names on their shirts so spectators could yell for them, which we were only too happy to do. A few weary runners uttered an appreciative “danke!!” and clearly needed the encouragement.







Don't worry - there was a runner in jean shorts. I was convinced we would spot one, so much so that I told Dominic I couldn't go inside until I'd found him. It took four hours of cheering, but here is the lucky man. I must admit, he looks like he's having a good time.


The entire population of Denmark was also in town to compete in the race. I have never seen so many Danes in my entire life. I have about 30 more pictures with nothing but Danes. It became the equivalent of our jeans-spotting game from Saturday.

On Monday morning my German teacher asked us all what we did this weekend. She called on me first to answer, and I got to try out the past tense for the first time and say "I watched the Marathon!" I think I even got it right.