Once a year, in mid-October, I wake up to the sound of people applauding.

I mention this because it happened again today. As I gradually drift upwards out of my slumber, I realize that the bedroom is filled with the sound of cheering and applause. Of course I think "I must be doing something really great to merit all this. I suppose I do sleep pretty well."

Who are these cheering masses in my bedroom, and what exactly is it that I have done that's got them all worked up like this? I mean, I know I'm pretty great, but it's normally a more subtle greatness, the kind that tends to fall below the public radar. But not once a year in mid-October. On this day people actually congregate to cheer my waking up. People actually have come from miles around to celebrate the fact that I got out of bed. Needless to say, on this day, I wake up with a smile on my face, fresh-faced and ready to meet my adoring fans.

Okay, so it's a marathon. The Baltimore Marathon (now in its third year) runs directly down the street that I live on. All the cheering and applause is not, in truth, for me, but rather for the couple of hundred people who not only got out of bed this morning, but decided to run 26 miles.

I've never had one of those mornings. The closest I get to running 26 miles first thing in the morning is walking all the way downstairs for some toast. And yes, I've been going to the gym, and yes, I've lost some weight, but my effective running range is somewhere around 50 yards. That's a bit short of 26 miles.

So I suppose these morning marathoners deserve all the adulation far more than I do. Come to think of it, there are a lot of people in the world who do probably deserve some applause when they get up in the morning. I have a friend who wakes up and tries to cure alzheimer's disease. My dad used to wake up and go fight crime.

Still, for a couple of minutes once a year in mid-October, I think, "I must be doing something right..."