Near the finish line, about half an hour after sunrise, it was still quiet enough to hear the birds.
More than 50,000 runners were on their way, wave after wave rolling toward Peachtree Street, but for the moment Piedmont Park was mostly quiet. A crape myrtle tree had decorated the sidewalk with lavender petals. On the hilltop, the rising sun turned the dew a blinding silver. Down in the meadow, volunteers stood over box after box of Georgia peaches.
As the city filled with daylight and energy, pulsing drums sounded in the distance. More than half a century had passed since the first running of this race, and 249 years since the United States declared independence. Somewhere out on the racecourse, a man draped himself in the American flag.
The front-runners charged down Tenth Street with astonishing speed, becoming the first to finish the 56th AJC Peachtree Road Race. This year’s field came from all 50 states and 27 countries. The youngest was 10; the oldest 96. Some people just keep coming back.
The Peachtree is a race for the resilient in a city that won’t stay down.
About 161 years ago, Atlanta burned to the ground. Then it rose from the ashes. Three years ago, Willie Hatchett suffered cardiac arrest. On Friday, despite warnings from loved ones, he returned to the AJC Peachtree Road Race. This time he walked.
The Peachtree is an annual Fourth of July celebration. A conscious act of community stretching 6.2 miles (10 kilometers) from Lenox Square in Buckhead to Piedmont Park in Midtown. The world’s largest 10K race.
“If I can do this,” said Marty Rotter, age 80, at the Brookhaven MARTA station around 5 a.m., “anybody can do this.”
There is something about this race that brings out the best in people. It inspires any number of spectators to get up early — on a day when most could probably sleep in — and go cheer for people they’ve never met.
A woman held a sign that said GO RANDOM STRANGER. Some people handed out free watermelon; others gave out cold beer. Along the course, from start to finish, more than 21,000 gallons of water were available.
“Do you want a hydration pop?” said James Givens, age 9, who with a friend had set up a stand on Eighth Street. “We accept cash and Venmo.”
Just down the street, other children were serving free lemonade. A sign said recipients could give a donation to the ACLU. Further down, toward Monroe Drive, a long white fleet of MARTA Mobility buses stood ready to give rides to those who needed some extra help.
The cicadas were already buzzing by 8:15, their electric chorus coming down from the treetops, the sky a deep blue in the west and still white in the east with the rising sun. Back on Tenth, the runners poured down toward the finish line like a rushing river.
Renate Sivels, 36, of College Park, had come to the race to make the final mile a little easier. It was obvious that some runners needed an emotional lift. A man with a gray beard soldiered on down Tenth Street, his face telling a story of great suffering. Sivels held up a sign that offered some comic relief:
We’ve been trying to reach you about your car’s EXTENDED WARRANTY.
Credit: HYOSUB SHIN / AJC
Credit: HYOSUB SHIN / AJC
At the turn from Peachtree to 10th, it was tempting to stand and watch for a long time. There was something about all those runners coming down the street. The depth of field. The kinetic energy. The tunnel of green. The city in a forest. One runner held a sign encouraging spectators to cheer for another runner. According to the sign, Larry Kuglar was running his 50th consecutive Peachtree Road Race.
It was cool and breezy in the shade along Peachtree Street around 9, but hot and getting hotter in the sun. A little after 11:30, the heat index would reach 91 degrees. The medical tents were busy, as usual, but less busy than last year, when the dangerous heat forced organizers to end the race before some runners had finished.
This year there were some falls, some overheating. Seventeen people were transported to hospitals, according to Rich Kenah, race director and CEO of the Atlanta Track Club. But there were no critical illnesses or life-threatening injuries.
Kenah stood at the finish line for a long time, giving out high-fives. The river of runners slowed to a trickle. The Bee Gees could be heard singing “Stayin’ Alive” for the bajillionth time. At age 67, Jonathan Lathbury had a walking stick and Achilles tendinitis. He still finished.
“There’s nothing better than being with 55,000 of my closest friends,” he said.
Finishing a long race brings on a particular kind of exhilaration. It’s even better when you have the rest of the day to do pretty much whatever you want. Shane Weaver, 60, remembered seeing his father run the very first Peachtree Road Race when Shane was a little boy. His older sisters ran the race too. Their father, William Weaver, died in 2005. Shane kept running.
He had lost count of all the times he ran the Peachtree. Was it 20? Weaver was standing in the meadow, eating a banana, thinking about some very big things. The uncertainty in America and the world. Polarization and hatred. And here was this thing that happened every year, regular as a heartbeat, giving back a glimmer of his faith in humanity.
“I think I’m gonna go to the lake today,” he said. “After I take a nap.”
AJC interns Zaire Breedlove, Allison Mawn and Gray Mollenkamp contributed to this report.
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