Cincinnati Flying Pig Marathon

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Racers' Tails
Dan Moon
Riverdale, Illinois

I grew up in Cincinnati, but have somewhat reluctantly and long since, left for professional pursuit. This town has, nevertheless, held a special place in my heart.

As a young boy growing up in the eastern suburbs, I never, ever, would have guessed that I would one day, at an age one and a half times older than my dad, at the time, be running 42 kilometers of the streets that I rode on my bicycle. Every step of the way triggers memories.

The inaugural Pig was an odyssey of time for me. Every step of the way pried loose memories that became as vivid as the experience that bore them. The trip to my dentist on Gilbert Avenue, the Saturday morning shopping trips to Shillito's with my mom, or, alternately, trips to Swallen's hardware department on Red Bank Road with my dad, the crosstown trip from Indian Hill to U.C during my college days, Friday nights at New Dilly's in Mt. Adams, and other old friends from the past come to greet me with every turn and glance. The marathon no longer was a race, but a delightfully nostalgic, if not at times even melancholy, documentary of my past.

At the end of the marathon, I'm left with the revitalized memories that remind me of how special a place Cincinnati was then and is to me now.

I will do the Pig again this year and probably more as a race than a trek down memory lane. I'll still enjoy the serpentine route and challenging hills, thankfully, all in the beginning. I'll still recall glimpses of experiences of long ago, but nothing will ever equal the exhilarating three and a half hour photo album of the inaugural Flying Pig Marathon last year.

Best Regards,

Dan Moon
Riverside, Illinois

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