I’ve watched them run down the last stretch of Ruxton Avenue for years, bloodied, battered, and sometimes limping but almost always with a big smile. Having run a few marathons myself, I usually recognize a runner’s smile once the finish line is in sight, but for these individuals, everything seems to slow down and magnify in that home stretch like none other. Their strides seem longer, the cheering louder, the colors brighter and even the thin mountain air seems denser with excitement and…
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