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November 2016
Vol. 46, Issue 11
The Turkey Trot just may be this country’s finest holiday tradition. For within its friendly banners and orange cones, its wrinkled bib numbers and tables piled high with bagels and donuts, is the ethos of a nation whose history includes the defeat of the British Empire and the invention of the Super Bowl. A motley crew of rebels we were. A motley crew of rebels we remain. Resilient. Resolute. United under a banner of self-evident truths, inalienable rights, and free race t-shirts.
Every year, millions of Americans lace up
their running shoes and gather together for this Thanksgiving morning tradition. They rally in the streets. They flock to city parks. They converge in tree-lined neighborhoods. They assemble themselves for their pre-meal constitutional, dressed in sweatpants and every incarnation of headgear. Knit caps. Ear warmers. Oven-roasted turkey hats. Some are there to race. Some are there jog. Some are there simply for the opportunity to wear oven-roasted turkey hats. But all are there.
The turkey trot cultivates a singular unity. It is the commencement of the holiday season, a nationwide kickoff that begins with the pop of the starter’s gun and carries straight through the post-race hot chocolate. It is the knowledge that soon children will be setting the table with Grandma’s fancy silverware. That soon the voices of Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole will croon their sentimental serenades in homes and stores. That soon football will be on the television, and Uncle Fred will be asleep on the couch.
But beyond cranberries in a can is the spirit
of freedom. Yes, at its heart, the turkey trot is still a race, and a race is about freedom. The freedom to succeed. The freedom to fail. The