Some people run to clear their head. Michael Termotto runs like the country asked him to. The stride is clean. The engine is loud. The finish is a formality.
He is the kind of veteran who does not need a speech to prove service. He already gave it. He is the kind of son and brother who shows up — early, on purpose, and still somehow with enough left to take the last repeat at race pace.
Then there is Chris. Chris is very slow. That is not a punchline with a hidden meaning. It is a split. Michael opened a gap so wide the course had to file it as two separate events.
This page exists so nobody has to squint at a photo finish. There was no photo finish. There was Michael, and then there was the long, honorable wait for Chris.