There was to be a free concert in San Francisco, a carefree day sitting on the grass at Pier 27 and Rosemary, Corinne and I set out on BART from Oakland. To do that, we walked four blocks to the Broadway station. The car was crowded to suffocation. Where were all these people going to? The Marathon would be almost over.
We got off at the Hyatt Regency and crossed to the Embarcadero. My knees were already done in and I saw with dismay that we were only at Pier 1. My friends set a goodly pace and I kept up, refusing to complain. Finally at Pier 27 nearly a mile away, we sprawled on the grass and I knew I was never going to get up again. The concert was pleasant, the sky blue. The others went to the food truck while I watched their belongings. They brought me back an ice cream cone. I’d already had some almonds.
Back again to BART we walked slower, perhaps because my companions knew I was about to die. Off BART again on Broadway and 19th, the four blocks to home.
By then I was falling forward with each step.
Somebody, hang a medal on me.