The Charles was lovely at sunset, moreso because I had ridden there. I sat for a long time watching the rowers. Northeastern Crew was out, putting a new-ish group through the paces.
Earlier, watching the marathon, I almost wanted to cry. There was something almost too beautiful and too mesmerizing in the river of bobbing heads coming down the hill towards where I was standing. The same black ink on shirts and arms, written instructions to cheer the names written there. "Go Matt!" "Alright Veena." Applause. "Yeah, Eagles!" in a mysterious surge of school pride. Later, at the barbecue, I was surprised to see "Matt" on the tv crossing the finish line. He was spent and had to be escorted to the medical tent.
He looked incredibly happy.