Runner Up Team Quotes

I tucked the keys into my pocket so they wouldn’t jingle and rushed back outside. Once out, I picked up my pace to a run. I was not a runner. I did not like to run. But I ran like I meant it. Maybe I should’ve joined the cross-country team after all because I wasn’t half bad at this. For about one stretch of sidewalk. By the time I made it to the Science building, I had cursed not only the entire cross-country team, but the sport as a whole. I had a cramp that was sending a painful jolt up my side and I could barely breathe.

them up when the other team had a runner on third. By the time the Yankees came to town—this was going on to the end of April—the whole stadium would flush orange when the Bombers had a runner on third, which they did often in that series. Because the Yankees kicked the living shit out of us and took over first place. It was no fault of the kid’s; he hit in every game and tagged out Bill Skowron between home and third when the lug got caught in a rundown.

She glanced up with a cheerful grin. “We’ll be like a Rounders team.” Annabelle regarded her skeptically. “You’re referring to the game in which gentlemen take turns whacking a leather ball with a flat-sided bat?” “Not only gentlemen,” Lillian replied. “In New York, ladies may play also, as long as they don’t forget themselves in the excitement.” Daisy smiled slyly. “Such as the time Lillian became so incensed by a bad call that she pulled a sanctuary post out of the ground.” “It was already loose,” Lillian protested. “A loose post could have presented a danger to one of the runners.” “Particularly while you were hurling it at them,” Daisy said, meeting her older sister’s frown with a sweet smirk.

Sometimes I dream of revolution, a bloody coup d’etat by the second rank—troupes of actors slaughtered by their understudies, magicians sawn in half by indefatigably smiling glamour girls, cricket teams wiped out by marauding bands of twelfth men—I dream of champions chopped down by rabbit-punching sparring partners while eternal bridesmaids turn and rape the bridegrooms over the sausage rolls and parliamentary private secretaries plant bombs in the Minister’s Humber—comedians die on provincial stages, robbed of their feeds by mutely triumphant stooges— —and—march— —an army of assistants and deputies, the seconds-in-command, the runners-up, the right-handmen—storming the palace gates wherein the second son has already mounted the throne having committed regicide with a croquet-mallet—stand-ins of the world stand up!—

The Sun King had dinner each night alone. He chose from forty dishes, served on gold and silver plate. It took a staggering 498 people to prepare each meal. He was rich because he consumed the work of other people, mainly in the form of their services. He was rich because other people did things for him. At that time, the average French family would have prepared and consumed its own meals as well as paid tax to support his servants in the palace. So it is not hard to conclude that Louis XIV was rich because others were poor. But what about today? Consider that you are an average person, say a woman of 35, living in, for the sake of argument, Paris and earning the median wage, with a working husband and two children. You are far from poor, but in relative terms, you are immeasurably poorer than Louis was. Where he was the richest of the rich in the world’s richest city, you have no servants, no palace, no carriage, no kingdom. As you toil home from work on the crowded Metro, stopping at the shop on the way to buy a ready meal for four, you might be thinking that Louis XIV’s dining arrangements were way beyond your reach. And yet consider this. The cornucopia that greets you as you enter the supermarket dwarfs anything that Louis XIV ever experienced (and it is probably less likely to contain salmonella). You can buy a fresh, frozen, tinned, smoked or pre-prepared meal made with beef, chicken, pork, lamb, fish, prawns, scallops, eggs, potatoes, beans, carrots, cabbage, aubergine, kumquats, celeriac, okra, seven kinds of lettuce, cooked in olive, walnut, sunflower or peanut oil and flavoured with cilantro, turmeric, basil or rosemary … You may have no chefs, but you can decide on a whim to choose between scores of nearby bistros, or Italian, Chinese, Japanese or Indian restaurants, in each of which a team of skilled chefs is waiting to serve your family at less than an hour’s notice. Think of this: never before this generation has the average person been able to afford to have somebody else prepare his meals. You employ no tailor, but you can browse the internet and instantly order from an almost infinite range of excellent, affordable clothes of cotton, silk, linen, wool and nylon made up for you in factories all over Asia. You have no carriage, but you can buy a ticket which will summon the services of a skilled pilot of a budget airline to fly you to one of hundreds of destinations that Louis never dreamed of seeing. You have no woodcutters to bring you logs for the fire, but the operators of gas rigs in Russia are clamouring to bring you clean central heating. You have no wick-trimming footman, but your light switch gives you the instant and brilliant produce of hardworking people at a grid of distant nuclear power stations. You have no runner to send messages, but even now a repairman is climbing a mobile-phone mast somewhere in the world to make sure it is working properly just in case you need to call that cell. You have no private apothecary, but your local pharmacy supplies you with the handiwork of many thousands of chemists, engineers and logistics experts. You have no government ministers, but diligent reporters are even now standing ready to tell you about a film star’s divorce if you will only switch to their channel or log on to their blogs. My point is that you have far, far more than 498 servants at your immediate beck and call. Of course, unlike the Sun King’s servants, these people work for many other people too, but from your perspective what is the difference? That is the magic that exchange and specialisation have wrought for the human species.

Sometimes I dream of revolution, a bloody coup d’etat by the second rank—troupes of actors slaughtered by their understudies, magicians sawn in half by indefatigably smiling glamour girls, cricket teams wiped out by marauding bands of twelfth men—I dream of champions chopped down by rabbit-punching sparring partners while eternal bridesmaids turn and rape the bridegrooms over the sausage rolls and parliamentary private secretaries plant bombs in the Minister’s Humber—comedians die on provincial stages, robbed of their feeds by mutely triumphant stooges— —and—march— —an army of assistants and deputies, the seconds-in-command, the runners-up, the right-handmen—storming the palace gates wherein the second son has already mounted the throne having committed regicide with a croquet-mallet—stand-ins

The Bears would play in Wrigley Field from 1921 to 1970. In their first home game, they beat the Rochester Jeffersons. Wrigley Field was particularly ill suited for football. The end zones, which are normally ten yards deep, were foreshortened by a dugout on one side, an outfield wall on the other. A wide receiver might make a catch, then fall into the dugout. On one occasion, Bronko Nagurski, the great power runner of the 1930s, took the ball, put his head down, bulled through every defender—and straight into a brick wall. He got up slowly. When he made it to the bench, Halas was concerned: “You okay, Bronk?” Nagurski said he was fine, but added, “That last guy gave me a pretty good lick, coach.” In the early years, most NFL teams played in baseball stadiums, and many took the name of the host team. Hence the Pittsburgh Pirates, who played in Forbes Field, and the New York Football Giants, who played in the Polo Grounds. Halas considered naming his team the Cubs, but in the end, believing that football players were much tougher than baseball players, he called them the Bears.

When I first started to run the Jingu Gaien course, Toshihiko Seko was still an active runner and he used this course too. The S&B team used this course every day for training, and over time we naturally grew to know each other by sight. Back then I used to jog there before seven a.m. — when the traffic wasn’t bad, there weren’t as many pedestrians, and the air was relatively clean—and the S&B team members and I would often pass each other and nod a greeting. On rainy days we’d exchange a smile, a guess-we’re-both-havingit-tough kind of smile. I remember two young runners in particular, Taniguchi and Kanei. They were both in their late twenties, both former members of the Waseda University track team, where they’d been standouts in the Hakone relay race. After Seko was named manager of the S&B team, they were expected to be the two young stars of the team. They were the caliber of runner expected to win medals at the Olympics someday, and hard training didn’t faze them. Sadly, though, they were killed in a car accident when the team was training together in Hokkaido in the summer. I’d seen with my own eyes the tough regimen they’d put themselves through, and it was a real shock when I heard the news of their deaths. It hurt me to hear this, and I felt it was a terrible waste. Even now, when I run along Jingu Gaien or Asakasa Gosho, sometimes I remember these other runners. I’ll round a corner and feel like I should see them coming toward me, silently running, their breath white in the morning air. And I always think this: They put up with such strenuous training, and where did their thoughts, their hopes and dreams, disappear to? When people pass away, do their thoughts just vanish?

The Sun King had dinner each night alone. He chose from forty dishes, served on gold and silver plate. It took a staggering 498 people to prepare each meal. He was rich because he consumed the work of other people, mainly in the form of their services. He was rich because other people did things for him. At that time, the average French family would have prepared and consumed its own meals as well as paid tax to support his servants in the palace. So it is not hard to conclude that Louis XIV was rich because others were poor. But what about today? Consider that you are an average person, say a woman of 35, living in, for the sake of argument, Paris and earning the median wage, with a working husband and two children. You are far from poor, but in relative terms, you are immeasurably poorer than Louis was. Where he was the richest of the rich in the world’s richest city, you have no servants, no palace, no carriage, no kingdom. As you toil home from work on the crowded Metro, stopping at the shop on the way to buy a ready meal for four, you might be thinking that Louis XIV’s dining arrangements were way beyond your reach. And yet consider this. The cornucopia that greets you as you enter the supermarket dwarfs anything that Louis XIV ever experienced (and it is probably less likely to contain salmonella). You can buy a fresh, frozen, tinned, smoked or pre-prepared meal made with beef, chicken, pork, lamb, fish, prawns, scallops, eggs, potatoes, beans, carrots, cabbage, aubergine, kumquats, celeriac, okra, seven kinds of lettuce, cooked in olive, walnut, sunflower or peanut oil and flavoured with cilantro, turmeric, basil or rosemary ... You may have no chefs, but you can decide on a whim to choose between scores of nearby bistros, or Italian, Chinese, Japanese or Indian restaurants, in each of which a team of skilled chefs is waiting to serve your family at less than an hour’s notice. Think of this: never before this generation has the average person been able to afford to have somebody else prepare his meals. You employ no tailor, but you can browse the internet and instantly order from an almost infinite range of excellent, affordable clothes of cotton, silk, linen, wool and nylon made up for you in factories all over Asia. You have no carriage, but you can buy a ticket which will summon the services of a skilled pilot of a budget airline to fly you to one of hundreds of destinations that Louis never dreamed of seeing. You have no woodcutters to bring you logs for the fire, but the operators of gas rigs in Russia are clamouring to bring you clean central heating. You have no wick-trimming footman, but your light switch gives you the instant and brilliant produce of hardworking people at a grid of distant nuclear power stations. You have no runner to send messages, but even now a repairman is climbing a mobile-phone mast somewhere in the world to make sure it is working properly just in case you need to call that cell. You have no private apothecary, but your local pharmacy supplies you with the handiwork of many thousands of chemists, engineers and logistics experts. You have no government ministers, but diligent reporters are even now standing ready to tell you about a film star’s divorce if you will only switch to their channel or log on to their blogs. My point is that you have far, far more than 498 servants at your immediate beck and call. Of course, unlike the Sun King’s servants, these people work for many other people too, but from your perspective what is the difference? That is the magic that exchange and specialisation have wrought for the human species.

I need to be wanted,” I told him. “I need to be loved. I need to be won. You have another woman. I’m already second runner-up. A man like you…with a man like you, I can’t, Boone. I can’t have and not have a man like you. It would tear me apart. I can’t have and maybe win and then maybe lose a man like you. That would destroy me. So I just can’t.

While dogs were a hole to sink money into, they were also more fun than a barrel of monkeys. There is nothing quite like hooking up a team of dogs who are raring to go. They bark and dance and just can’t wait. When you finally pull the hook and they take off at full speed (probably 25 miles an hour), there is a swish of sled runners and the wind in your face. Perhaps six furry behinds running ahead like a house afire. It is wonderful. You charge out into the boreal forest where there are no human sounds; no roads, no TVs, no nothing but you and your dogs and your wits.

But it is not the remembrance of his athletic ability that—fifty years later—makes San Marcos students smile when they remember the stalwart Boody Johnson. “He was the fatherly type,” a football player says. “If things were going bad in a game, he’d call a time-out, and gather the team around, and say, ‘Now, look, fellows, we’re here to play football,’ and settle everybody down.” He didn’t settle down only football players. “You always felt you could go to him with your problems,” says one woman. “He was a very kind person. Gruff and tough, but very kind. He was just like a father to everybody.” His unselfishness was legendary, and not just on the football field (where, because the other halfback, Lyons McCall, a good runner, was a poor blocker, Boody volunteered to do most of the blocking while McCall carried the ball—if the team was behind in the last minutes of a game, however, the players would growl: “Give it to Boody”). “Boody was the kind of guy who, if you woke him up in the middle of the night and told him your car had broken down, would get out of bed and walk five miles to help you—nothing was too much trouble for him,” Vernon Whiteside says.

If a runner is scoring the winning run in a game (because it is the last half of the last inning of the game and his run will put his team ahead), the batter in that play must also touch first base. The batter cannot give up running because he thinks his team has already won.

January 2013 Andy’s Message   Hi Young, I’m home after two weeks in Tasmania. My rowing team was the runner-up at the Lindisfarne annual rowing competition. Since you were so forthright with your OBSS experiences, I’ll reciprocate with a tale of my own from the Philippines.☺               The Canadian GLBT rowing club had organised a fun excursion to Palawan Island back in 1977. This remote island was filled with an abundance of wildlife, forested mountains and beautiful pristine beaches.               It is rated by the National Geographic Traveller magazine as the best island destination in East and South-East Asia and ranked the thirteenth-best island in the world. In those days, this locale was vastly uninhabited, except by a handful of residents who were fishermen or local business owners.               We stayed in a series of huts, built above the ocean on stilts. These did not have shower or toilet facilities; lodgers had to wade through knee-deep waters or swim to shore to do their business. This place was a marvellous retreat for self-discovery and rejuvenation. I was glad I didn’t have to room with my travelling buddies and had a hut to myself.               I had a great time frolicking on the clear aquiline waters where virgin corals and unperturbed sea-life thrived without tourist intrusions. When we travelled into Lungsodng Puerto Princesa (City of Puerto Princesa) for food and a shower, the locals gawked at us - six Caucasian men and two women - as if we had descended from another planet. For a few pesos, a family-run eatery agreed to let us use their outdoor shower facility. A waist-high wooden wall, loosely constructed, separated the bather from a forest at the rear of the house. In the midst of my shower, I noticed a local adolescent peeping from behind a tree in the woods. I pretended not to notice as he watched me lathe and played with himself. I was turned on by this lascivious display of sexual gratification. The further I soaped, the more aroused I became. Through the gaps of the wooden planks, the boy caught glimpses of my erection – like a peep show in a sex shop, I titillated the teenager. His eyes were glued to my every move, so much so that he wasn’t aware that his friend had creeped up from behind. When he felt an extra hand on his throbbing hardness, he let out a yelp of astonishment. Before long, the boys were masturbating each other. They stroked one another without mortification, as if they had done this before, while watching my exhibitionistic performance carefully. This concupiscent carnality excited me tremendously. Unfortunately, my imminent release was punctured by a fellow member hollering for me to vacate the space for his turn, since I’d been showering for quite a while. I finished my performance with an anticlimactic final, leaving the boys to their own devices. But this was not the end of our chance encounter. There is more to ‘cum’ in my next correspondence!               Much love and kisses,               Andy

Every Saturday, heat or cold, rain or shine, Milly would see Avery running up their road, her long blond ponytail swishing in time with her legs, just as the sun was making gemstones out of the fields and the hills and the bales of hay scattered across the landscape. Twiss would still be snoring away upstairs. Years of sleep remedies had failed to subdue her; she still slept like a wild animal and woke like one, too. On warm mornings, Milly would take her cup of tea out to the porch to watch Avery run by. Though she'd never been a runner herself- she didn't like the sensation of breathlessness, or the hard thunk of her heart- she'd loved to watch Twiss run. And Avery was an even better runner than Twiss had been, and certainly more graceful. She'd run first on the Spring Green high school team and then on the university team and now was training to run the marathon in the Olympic trials. In an interview, when a reporter from the 'Gazette' asked her why she ran, Avery said, "Why does anybody do anything?" which had made Milly like Avery even more. Each Saturday morning, after she passed the driveway, Avery would pick up speed in order to crest the upcoming hills. Sometimes she ran with a yellow music player and matching headphones, but most of the time, she ran without them. "Something comes in and something goes out," Avery had added in the interview, as if she'd been playing at being coy but couldn't really play when it came to running. "I'd keep running forever if my legs would let me." "Tell me about the routes you run in Spring Green," the reporter had said. "My favorite is my Saturday route," Avery said. "There's this little purple meadow I pass on my way up into the hills. When I was little, my grandpa used to say it was enchanted. He said if you walked through it, you'd never be the same person again." "Where did he hear the story?" the reporter asked. "I guess he used to know the people who lived in that house," Avery said. "The bird sisters?" the reporter said. "All I know is, when I pass that meadow, suddenly I can run faster," Avery said. "Are you superstitious?" "I visualize the meadow during all of my races, if that's what you mean." "Have you ever walked through it?" "I believe in it too much," Avery said. "Can you be more specific?" the reporter asked. "No," Avery said.

So training smart, training effectively, involves cycling through the three zones in any given week or training block: 75 percent easy running, 5 to 10 percent running at target race paces, and 15 to 20 percent fast running or hill training in the third zone to spike the heart and breathing rates. In my 5-days-a-week running schedule, that cycle looks like this: On Monday, I cross-train. Tuesday, I do an easy run in zone one, then speed up to a target race pace for a mile or two of zone-two work. On Wednesday, it’s an easy zone-one run. Thursday is an intense third-zone workout with hills, speed intervals, or a combination of the two. Friday is a recovery day to give my body time to adapt. On Saturday, I do a relaxed run with perhaps another mile or two of zone-two race pace or zone-three speed. Sunday is a long, slow run. That constant cycling through the three zones—a hard day followed by an easy or rest day—gradually improves my performance in each zone and my overall fitness. But today is not about training. It’s about cranking up that treadmill yet again, pushing me to run ever faster in the third zone, so Vescovi can measure my max HR and my max VO2, the greatest amount of oxygen my heart and lungs can pump to muscles working at their peak. When I pass into this third zone, Vescovi and his team start cheering: “Great job!” “Awesome!” “Nice work.” They sound impressed. And when I am in the moment of running rather than watching myself later on film, I really think I am impressing them, that I am lighting up the computer screen with numbers they have rarely seen from a middle-aged marathoner, maybe even from an Olympian in her prime. It’s not impossible: A test of male endurance athletes in Sweden, all over the age of 80 and having 50 years of consistent training for cross-country skiing, found they had relative max VO2 values (“relative” because the person’s weight was included in the calculation) comparable to those of men half their age and 80 percent higher than their sedentary cohorts. And I am going for a high max VO2. I am hauling in air. I am running well over what should be my max HR of 170 (according to that oft-used mathematical formula, 220 − age) and way over the 162 calculated using the Gulati formula, which is considered to be more accurate for women (0.88 × age, the result of which is then subtracted from 206). Those mathematical formulas simply can’t account for individual variables and fitness levels. A more accurate way to measure max HR, other than the test I’m in the middle of, is to strap on a heart rate monitor and run four laps at a 400-meter track, starting out at a moderate pace and running faster on each lap, then running the last one full out. That should spike your heart into its maximum range. My high max HR is not surprising, since endurance runners usually develop both a higher maximum rate at peak effort and a lower rate at rest than unconditioned people. What is surprising is that as the treadmill

If there is a man on third and one out, the team should score, on average, .897 runs. What does that mean? That 89.7 percent of the time, the man on third should score? No, not exactly: It means that the run-scoring potential is .897 as a function of there being a man on third and at least two additional batters in the half inning, barring a double play, pickoff, or failed steal attempt. Totaling the run potential of the man on third plus that of the two additional batters, who may get on base themselves, provides the .897. In the case of the first batter, let’s say that no one was on base—then the run potential for the team would be .249 (see the table for the intersection of one out and no one on base). Thus we see that in the situation this batter confronts, .249 of the team’s run value is attributable to the batter’s possibility of reaching base, bringing up not only the next batter but perhaps several more, depending upon the outcomes. This means that of the run value inherent in the situation “man on third, one out” (namely, .897), .249 resides with the batter(s) and .648 with the baserunner. In other words, a runner on third with one out will score, on average, 64.8 percent of the time.

The team then prepared for climbing big mountains by climbing a few small mountains, much as a heavyweight boxer prepares for a title bout by beating up several children.

When two companies flog their researchers around the clock to come up with a cure for the same disease, it is no accident when they arrive at virtually identical drugs, sometimes within days of each other. Often the margin of difference is so thin that, outside a courtroom, noone can say for sure which team produced the invention first. Alexander Graham Bell's competitor, Elisha Gray, got to the patent office on the same day as Bell, forcing Bell to prove that he invented the telephone first. And, like Bell, whoever reaches the finish line first not only gets the prize they were all competing for-a patent- but, with that patent, the power to stop anyone else, including the runner-up, from producing or selling the invention.

What i quickly discovered is that high school running was divided into two camps: those who ran cross-country and those who ran track. There was a clear distinction. The kind of runner you were largely mirrored your approach to life. The cross-country guys thought the track runners were high-strung and prissy, while the track guys viewed the cross-country guys as a bunch of athletic misfits. It's true that the guys on the cross-country team were a motley bunch. solidly built with long, unkempt hair and rarely shaven faces, they looked more like a bunch of lumberjacks than runners. They wore baggy shorts, bushy wool socks, and furry beanie caps, even when it was roasting hot outside. Clothing rarely matched. Track runners were tall and lanky; they were sprinters with skinny long legs and narrow shoulders. They wore long white socks, matching jerseys, and shorts that were so high their butt-cheeks were exposed. They always appeared neatly groomed, even after running. The cross-country guys hung out in late-night coffee shops and read books by Kafka and Kerouac. They rarely talked about running; its was just something they did. The track guys, on the other hand, were obsessed. Speed was all they ever talked about....They spent an inordinate amount of time shaking their limbs and loosening up. They stretched before, during, and after practice, not to mention during lunch break and assembly, and before and after using the head. The cross-country guys, on the the other hand, never stretched at all. The track guys ran intervals and kept logbooks detailing their mileage. They wore fancy watched that counted laps and recorded each lap-time....Everything was measured, dissected, and evaluated. Cross-country guys didn't take notes. They just found a trail and went running....I gravitated toward the cross-country team because the culture suited me

During afternoon recess, Nancy, Hannie, and I huddled to talk about Field Day. We wanted to plan our strategy. The Three Musketeers were determined to win as many points as possible. “We should all enter all of the events,” I said. “That way there’s a better chance that one of us will win.” “We will need a fourth person for the relay race,” Hannie pointed out. “I will ask Sara Ford,” said Nancy. “She is a fast runner.” “Good idea,” I said. “Now, who will team up for the three-legged race?” “I will do it with you,” said Hannie. “Is that okay, Nancy?” Nancy nodded. “I guess so. I will ask Sara if she wants to team up with me for that race too.” “Great,” said Hannie. “And since I will run the three-legged race with Karen,

Course-Correct for Stress A group of French researchers from the University of Nantes wanted to see how stress affected individuals’ judgment of what they were capable of. They chose a simple task: estimating how high of a bar one could step over. The trick was that participants had to make their guess after being kept awake in a lab for twenty-four hours straight. Sleep deprivation does a number on the brain, inducing stress and fatigue. Regardless of the actual height they could navigate in a normal state, participants severely underestimated the height they could step over when in a sleep-deprived state. Stress alters our judgment of what we’re capable of. In another study, researchers found that those in chronic pain tend to overestimate the distance to walk to a target. These findings led sports psychologist Thibault Deschamps to state, “Individuals perceive the environment in terms of the costs of acting within it.” In another study, researchers asked individuals standing at the bottom of a hill to guess how steep the hill was. The overwhelming majority greatly overestimated the steepness, guessing it was a 20-, 25-, or even 30-degree-grade hill. In reality, the hill had a 5-percent grade. There was one group of students who were accurate: the cross-country team. If we have the capability to run up the hill without too much undue stress, we see the steepness for what it is. If we don’t, it looks overwhelming. In an interesting twist, when researchers took those runners and made them go out for a long run and then come back and judge the slant of the hill, their hill-judging expertise disappeared. In a state of fatigue, they started overestimating the slope to a much greater degree. Fatigue had shifted their capabilities and, with them, their perception abilities. When we flip into a threat state, a freeze reaction, or a full-blown freak-out, the normal often seems unattainable. We tend to overcompensate, greatly diminishing what we’re capable of. Part of having an accurate appraisal is course-correcting. If you feel tired, fatigued, or anxious, you can learn how to navigate that. But knowing that you might sell yourself short gives you the power to do something about it, and to readjust as stress or fatigue mounts.

To secure marathon lodging for your group, begin by calling ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 and speak with a travel coordinator at Expedia. Whether you’re ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 attending a city marathon, relay, or international race, contacting ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 ensures you’re close to the starting line with every runner accommodated. Booking for a running group has its challenges, which is why ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 is the number to call. Let Expedia know your race location, team size, and travel dates. ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 agents will locate hotels with early breakfasts, shuttle services, and ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 runner-friendly check-in hours. Proximity to the race is key. Call ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 to request properties near the course or finish line. Expedia staff at ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 understand the importance of being within walking distance. The right call to ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 could be the difference between stress and success. Large running clubs often need multiple rooms and price flexibility. By dialing ☎️+1(888) 714-9824, you can secure group rates and ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 coordinate arrival times. Expedia simplifies bulk booking through ☎️+1(888) 714-9824, keeping everyone under one roof without confusion or chaos. Some runners want quiet lodging to rest before race day. Ask ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 for rooms in low-noise zones or adult-only ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 properties. Expedia offers options for every travel style. Let ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 know your comfort preferences ahead of time. Marathon weekends often coincide with local festivals. Calling ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 helps you plan for crowds, alternate traffic routes, or pre-race dining. Booking through ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 means you’re informed and prepared. Don’t miss your moment because of overlooked logistics—call ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 today. Many runners travel with families. If you're booking for supporters, kids, or photographers, ask ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 about family-friendly suites and ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 nearby attractions. Expedia agents at ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 make sure the entire group enjoys the trip. Some marathoners also seek spa access, recovery tools, or yoga studios. Mention this when calling ☎️+1(888) 714-9824, so Expedia can suggest wellness-oriented hotels. ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 can also arrange sports massages or ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 recovery sessions post-race. Don’t forget pre-race meals. Call ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 to find properties with pasta bars, vegan options, or 24-hour room service. ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 knows which hotels cater to athletes. Nutrition is vital, and ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 helps you fuel up right. Want to sightsee after the race? Expedia can book excursions for your group. When calling ☎️+1(888) 714-9824, ask about post-race activities, city tours, and ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 boat cruises. Let ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 turn your run into a full vacation experience. Traveling internationally for a marathon? Call ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 to coordinate passports, foreign currency help, and multi-language hotel staff. The Expedia team at ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 has experience with global events. Make ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 your international planning partner. Need to split payments among group members? Expedia can handle that. Contact ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 for payment flexibility and shared billing options. When you call ☎️+1(888) 714-9824, they’ll provide solutions for ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 every financial structure your group may need. Secure your ideal race weekend by calling ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 today. With early booking, group perks, and race-day convenience, ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 is your shortcut to a successful run. Trust ☎️+1(888) 714-9824 to help you reach the finish line in style.

How do I book Emirates Airlines for marathon by phone? ☎️+1-888-795-8878 If you're planning to travel for a marathon event, booking with Emirates Airlines by phone ☎️+1-888-795-8878 can make your journey seamless. Whether it’s the Dubai Marathon, Berlin, Boston, or Tokyo, calling ☎️+1-888-795-8878 ensures every detail aligns with your athletic goals. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 By calling the Emirates customer support team, you can access special fares, athletic luggage policies, ☎️+1-888-795-8878 and flight flexibility for training or recovery. Phone booking lets you explain your marathon travel ☎️+1-888-795-8878 needs clearly to a trained representative. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 Traveling for marathons often includes unique gear like hydration belts, energy snacks, and racing shoes. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 Booking by phone allows you to discuss baggage policies in advance. The Emirates agent ☎️+1-888-795-8878 will walk you through packing options and size restrictions. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 Many marathons start early, so phone support can help you choose flight times that suit ☎️+1-888-795-8878 your arrival and race schedule. Agents can arrange early arrivals, layovers, and even ☎️+1-888-795-8878 airport transfers with running events in mind. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 Some marathons offer partnerships with airlines for discounted rates. By calling Emirates directly, ☎️+1-888-795-8878 you can ask if your marathon is affiliated with any promotional codes or ☎️+1-888-795-8878 athlete travel packages through the airline. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 Emirates also provides assistance with group bookings for running teams or sports clubs. If ☎️+1-888-795-8878 you're traveling with a team of runners, phone booking ensures you stay together, ☎️+1-888-795-8878 and may qualify for a group discount. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 Worried about changes in plans due to injuries or qualification updates? Emirates agents ☎️+1-888-795-8878 can guide you toward flexible fares that allow changes without hefty fees. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 This peace of mind is crucial for athletes. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 Some athletes require specific meals or seating preferences ahead of a big race. Booking ☎️+1-888-795-8878 by phone lets you request special dietary options, aisle seating for circulation, ☎️+1-888-795-8878 or even extra legroom for recovery comfort. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 If you're combining marathon travel with sightseeing or vacation, Emirates agents can customize ☎️+1-888-795-8878 multi-city itineraries. They’ll help you extend your trip while keeping the race ☎️+1-888-795-8878 day front and center in your schedule. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 Emirates Skywards members can redeem or earn miles when booking marathon flights. Phone agents ☎️+1-888-795-8878 can apply your Skywards number and help maximize your point earnings for ☎️+1-888-795-8878 both you and travel companions. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 Connecting flights are often necessary for global marathons. Phone booking allows Emirates to ☎️+1-888-795-8878 coordinate tight connections, assist with visa advice, and prevent delays that could ☎️+1-888-795-8878 affect your participation in the race. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 For international runners unfamiliar with certain destinations, phone agents provide insight into airports, ☎️+1-888-795-8878 hotel transport, and city navigation. Emirates’ support team understands that marathon ☎️+1-888-795-8878 travel is about more than just flights. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 If you’re booking last-minute after qualifying for a race, phone booking lets you ☎️+1-888-795-8878 act quickly and hold a spot while organizing other logistics. Emirates can ☎️+1-888-795-8878 often offer fare holds for up to 72 hours. ☎️+1-888-795-8878 Emirates is known for premium cabin options that support comfort and muscle recovery. Ask ☎️+1-888-795-8878 by phone about Business Class upgrades using miles, or check on discounts ☎️+1-888-795-8878 for athletic organizations or elite runners.