This is not a photo of a marathon.
Really just a matter of timing, this shot was taken shortly after the drawbridge had been let back down.
The good weather meant there were lots of people in downtown Portland, and the raised bridge had stopped them from crossing it for about twenty minutes. This is just that crowd of people finally flooding across.
Talking a walk across the Burnside bridge the other day, I noticed the great color and texture of the stairs that lead down to the water. Hip shot!
Toma Amendolara and Mishalla Cannon, caught in the right place at the wrong time. Like nostalgia-seeking spirits from another era, they’re drawn time and again to this very bridge, exactly at five am, on July third, year after year.
That was where he’d finally proposed to her. At five am. They’d stayed out all night, dancing and promising their futures together, once he returned in a few months.
At zero six hundred, Toma was shipping out to the Pacific Ocean.
They never actually saw each other again, but they don’t forget their promises, either. You can still see them out on the bridge, every year around five in the morning, every July third. Sometimes she tries to stop him from going off, but usually they just linger and love each other.