Before the start of the Long Island Marathon, an old bald-headed man came up to me. He didn’t fold his hands, but he was full of reverential awe. He said, “Are you Sri Chinmoy?”
I said I was.
He said, “I am so happy and honoured to be here and speak to you. This is my first marathon.”
So I congratulated him. He said, “I have run quite a few races of yours.”
Then the funniest thing happened. After fourteen miles, I got the shock of my life. He was passing me coming from the other direction. I asked myself, “How could he be so far ahead of me if this is his first marathon?”
I waved to him. I usually don’t wave to anybody, but he had been so nice to me. Later I realised that I was actually ahead of him. He finished far behind me.
RB 508. 1 May 1982↩