Marathon

I don't know why I have been so lazy about writing about my trip. I think it is because it means I will have to download the pictures from somewhere as they don't live on a computer and as I can be extremely lazy this has been a major deterrent. So if I post this with no pictures make sure to come back to it as I eventually will.



In short the marathon was not so much fun and I do not feel the desire to do another one ever again. Here is what happened.



First of all the marathon starts about 25 miles outside of Venice and it is a straight line back into the city. You had to take a bus to the start line and loved ones were not allowed with you. Waiting for the bus I noticed how there were not many females around. When the bus arrived it was a mad rush to get on the bus and the somewhat calm individuals I had been waiting with turned into raving lunatics as they pushed their way onto the vehicle. By some miracle I got a seat. I avoided all eye contact the whole trip silently eating my chocolate oats.



The bus I took was one of the last ones and I had to wait in a stupidly long line for the toilet. I guess I should be happy they had one. While waiting I was being yelled at in Italian to assumingly get to the start and drop off my bag. That is what it seems what other people were doing. At the start line you are divided into pace times. I was in the 4 to 5 hour group and my plan was to stay behind the 4 hour pace makers marked with pink balloons but in front of the 4:3o pace makers marked with blue balloons. In case this isn't obvious, pace makers are people who run the marathon with a target time. So if you keep up with the 4:00 pace makers you will finish the marathon in 4 hours. Anyway, while waiting and still being yelled at in Italian I started chatting with two women one of whom was an American and was participating in her 6th marathon. She said it would take her 6 hours as she walks and runs but she would finish. I admired her as she was a little older but also felt a bit bad it took her so long. Before I knew it helicopters were flying over and everyone started to cheer. I began to feel excited and was finally glad that I was doing this. We began to move forward and I noticed something gut wrenching. The blue balloons were in front of me, not behind me where they belonged. Even though it wasn't ideal I convinced myself it was ok. Given my performance in the last marathon I would have a quick start when I could pass them and then pace it out a bit so that they stayed behind me.



Although there were helicopters and the runners seemed excited about the race, the start was very anti-climatic. No music, no people cheering. It was like starting every other run I had done, plus 7000 people. The adrenaline rush I was expecting to help propel me the 26.2 miles wasn't coming and I quickly realized it wasn't going to. Suddenly I began to panic. I was starting well behind my target time and no matter what I tried to tell my legs to do, I couldn't catch up with those damn blue balloons. I began to hate and curse the blue balloons. I admit I did try to have a good attitude about it. I tried to tell myself that it was ok to do the run slower than I wanted. The time wasn't important. All that was important was that I was completing a goal and an impressive one at that. But no matter what positive crap I tried to feed myself I could not shake my desire to run up to the blue balloons and pop all of them. It never happened.



Depressed on how slow I was running I became even more disheartened by the crowds that 'greeted' us. I think in Dublin I had such a good run because there were so many people out cheering. When you felt like running a little slower, or when your legs began to hurt, around the corner would be hundreds of people cheering and singing and urging you on. This did not happen in Italy. Instead crowds gathered to stare at these idiots running through town on their way to Venice. The ones who did cheer did so in a half hearted attempt and although it was appreciated there is nothing worse than having to run AND to try inspire people to get excited.



Then my IPOD broke. I am not sure what happened. It was working fine and then it wasn't. Lucky for me I borrowed a friends cell phone and was able to call Martin who was meeting me on route. Stopping to meet him to get my IPOD would be my ruin, but this was not for another 10 miles. For 10 miles I ran without music and contemplated stopping. I would have been fine really without the music. I was even ok without the cheering. But my knee was not fine. It began to hurt and got worse and worse. By the time I reached mile 16 where I met Martin I had to make a decision. Do I stop? Did I do all that training and come all this way to give up? Or do I press on and walk if I have to. I stopped only long enough to get my music, get a nice pat on the back from Martin and our friends Darren and Suzannah who came along to cheer me on and continue on my way. Except after I stopped I couldn't start again. My knee was not having it. I couldn't start to run, and for the most part didn't run for the remaining 10 miles, but I could, and did, walk. I learned all sorts of ways to walk. I learned to walk without bending one knee, without bending both knees, how to walk using my arms to propel me along and how to walk using my hips. It was kind of interesting really. But I thought that my reward would be going over that bridge into Venice and being greeted with all its glory. It was going to be beautiful and I was going to enjoy it and treasure it cause I earned it.



Umm, wrong. To get into Venice you had to run across a traffic bridge that was 3km long. It was straight and the only people on it were in cars or in running shoes. I had assumed once you crossed the bridge you would run over the foot bridge into Venice. Nope. The route instead took us to the side of the city into the docks where fishing boats and drug addicts reside. I was pissed. I had spent the previous day on a bench so I could be fresh for this stupid marathon and had assumed that it was ok as I would see it all on the run anyway. I didn't see anything Venice like until the very end.

When I finally made it to the finish line Suzannah "ran" along with me and asked-how do you feel. I thought about it for a second and replied, pissed off. I really was. What a crappy day! But I was so happy to be done and as I ran down the final stretch I had people waiting for me everywhere. First Darren, then Suzannah then Martin and then Martin's brother-in-laws brother and their family. He had also done the marathon and it was so nice to see him at the end. He gave me a big hug and I realized that although he may have finished, um, hours before I had, he had gone through the same thing as I, and we were both proud of ourselves for making it to the finish.

VICTORY

What a good day to wake up to! I didn't stay up to watch the results as we don't really have cable and the election wasn't on 24-7 like I am sure it was in the States. But first thing this morning (I don't even have to be at work until noon and I STILL got out of bed) I turned on the TV and was greeted with the great news. I am so excited! I am very proud of America, for recognizing how much we need change and going to the polls to vote for it. This election has been so important for so many reasons and how exciting to be alive to see it. I can't wait to go to work and say, see, I told you America was ready for a change. I think the most interesting thing is to see the reaction of foreign leaders, who seem impressed we have voted in our first black President. Perhaps it will help do away with some of our negative stereotypes and help show the world we are not a racist nation. I think what makes me feel even better about his election is the wide spread excitment about it. There has been coverage here of Washington and Times Square where thousands of people have congregated to celebrate. When is the last time that has happened after a presidential election? Congratulations Obama-I can't wait to see what you will do for us. I am hopeful you can get us out of this mess!

(By the way, my gloating was disrupted when a colleague came up with a story about an American being interviewed after the election. This person is reported as saying, "he may be inexperienced and he may be black, but he isn't a woman!" Give me a break!)