by Cecile Richards

Late yesterday afternoon, the last stragglers from the New York City
Marathon were wandering through Central Park.  There were hundreds of
runners, in their silver warming wraps, wobbling toward Central Park
West or to the subway, relieved to be finished.  It was a beautiful
fall day and an inspiring sight, and as I finished up my meager run
around the park, a young woman came running along beside me, looking
for a path across the chaos.  She was meeting up with her aunt, who
was just finishing the marathon, and she wanted to make sure and get
her photo crossing the finish line.  As we maneuvered around the
runners, she told me, "She is 80 years old, and this is her 30th
marathon.  She started when she was 57."  She went on to say, "You'd
never know from looking at her she was 80 – I wish I had her figure!"