Why blog about a marathon? What to put? “I ran a lot, and then I had to run a lot more”? And why should I blog about a marathon here?
Because a MiM talked me into doing it. I don’t think I would ever do such a crazy thing. And I mean, just now, when I waddled down the escalator slope at the Eurostar terminal that is meant to provide maximum convenience to travellers, I realised how crazy it was, because right now, I am walking like my great-grandmother, and this slope proved to be a big challenge for me. My hips and knees are positively destroyed.
I won’t bore you guys with the preparation. It means running lots and, in the last week, eating lots of carbs. Pasta and banana, cake, jam sandwiches, some more pasta, all different combinations possible. Spaghetti with a banana, jam and cake crumbs sauce is not too bad!
But yesterday, when I was walking towards the start in the morning sun, dressed in a smart rubbish bag with “Jogging” written all over it in font size 500, I could not believe I was really gonna do this. Since it was the first time I was gonna run 42.195km, I had no clue, and ended up in one of the faster groups of the c. 40,000 people that filled the Champs-Elysees on that morning. Spirit was awesome! The elite runners got started first and were already a distant group of stickmen disappearing at an alarming pace by the time I crossed the start line myself. I mentioned that I was standing with a group too fast for me. So, what that meant is that you’re like a rock in a river of runners. I seemed to stand still, while everyone else seemed to fly past me.
The funny thing is that once you’re on your way you will be drawn forward by the other runners and the spectators. I had no idea whether I was gonna make it, my longest training run had been for two hours. So, up to that time, everything’s fine. The sentiment is great, lots of spectators are cheering you, and your metabolism feels like you could go on forever.
I was deeply, deeply impressed by the groups of runners who were drawing disadvantaged people on carts. They get constantly applauded by spectators and also, the runners passing them. It is amazing to see how much determination and willpower people can develop. Chapeau!
My aim was to finish in four hours, but I knew that was probably ambitious. In the first half of the course, I gained time on this, constantly feeding on water, oranges and bananas. But come the 25 kilometer mark, my knees started to feel the strain. I was running at good pace, but I could not have made larger steps than what I was doing at the time. And from there, my speed went down, and the last 15k were difficult to accomplish. At 35k, the helpers were handing out some isotonic sports drink, for the first time during the race. I thought that this would certainly help. But ewww! – the stuff was sweet enough to glue your mouth shut, and I threw the bottle away with perhaps slightly more energy than needed.
I crossed the 40k mark at 3h 58min, just beating the 10kph split, but the last two kilometres were without doubt the hardest. I knew I had a problem when one of the drawn carts I mentioned above strode past me. And in the Bois de Boulogne, one of Paris’ big parks, there aren’t many spectators to keep you fired up. You have to make your way out of the woods beforehand. Marathon running seems to be a good analogy on life in general.
Et voila! The street is lined with people cheering and making you forget how much it hurts. I run past my old uni, Paris Dauphine, and see the finish on Avenue Foch, right in front of the Arc de Triomphe. For some reason, getting from the 42k mark to the finish is not a problem. It might be the photographers or the cheering crowd, or the carpet you’re jogging on.
Suddenly, it is over. Automatically, I keep walking, and in this walking fashion, everybody receives the t-shirt, the medal, the poncho to keep you warm, water, bananas, oranges and – a nice change – apples. My legs scream at me to sit down, and I happily oblige. As I sit down, it dawns on me that I’ve really made it. I have some water and then, I eat my apple. It tastes like Christmas, seven times over.
So again, why put this on the MiM blog? Because it was a MiM who convinced me to sign up and prepare for this event. I don’t know if I’m gonna run a marathon again soon, but I’m certainly happy to have done the first one. When I changed my facebook status to “DONE!” a fellow MiM replied: “Nice work. Now get ready for the New York Marathon!” Even the longest way seems to begin with the first step.
Because a MiM talked me into doing it. I don’t think I would ever do such a crazy thing. And I mean, just now, when I waddled down the escalator slope at the Eurostar terminal that is meant to provide maximum convenience to travellers, I realised how crazy it was, because right now, I am walking like my great-grandmother, and this slope proved to be a big challenge for me. My hips and knees are positively destroyed.
I won’t bore you guys with the preparation. It means running lots and, in the last week, eating lots of carbs. Pasta and banana, cake, jam sandwiches, some more pasta, all different combinations possible. Spaghetti with a banana, jam and cake crumbs sauce is not too bad!
But yesterday, when I was walking towards the start in the morning sun, dressed in a smart rubbish bag with “Jogging” written all over it in font size 500, I could not believe I was really gonna do this. Since it was the first time I was gonna run 42.195km, I had no clue, and ended up in one of the faster groups of the c. 40,000 people that filled the Champs-Elysees on that morning. Spirit was awesome! The elite runners got started first and were already a distant group of stickmen disappearing at an alarming pace by the time I crossed the start line myself. I mentioned that I was standing with a group too fast for me. So, what that meant is that you’re like a rock in a river of runners. I seemed to stand still, while everyone else seemed to fly past me.
The funny thing is that once you’re on your way you will be drawn forward by the other runners and the spectators. I had no idea whether I was gonna make it, my longest training run had been for two hours. So, up to that time, everything’s fine. The sentiment is great, lots of spectators are cheering you, and your metabolism feels like you could go on forever.
I was deeply, deeply impressed by the groups of runners who were drawing disadvantaged people on carts. They get constantly applauded by spectators and also, the runners passing them. It is amazing to see how much determination and willpower people can develop. Chapeau!
My aim was to finish in four hours, but I knew that was probably ambitious. In the first half of the course, I gained time on this, constantly feeding on water, oranges and bananas. But come the 25 kilometer mark, my knees started to feel the strain. I was running at good pace, but I could not have made larger steps than what I was doing at the time. And from there, my speed went down, and the last 15k were difficult to accomplish. At 35k, the helpers were handing out some isotonic sports drink, for the first time during the race. I thought that this would certainly help. But ewww! – the stuff was sweet enough to glue your mouth shut, and I threw the bottle away with perhaps slightly more energy than needed.
I crossed the 40k mark at 3h 58min, just beating the 10kph split, but the last two kilometres were without doubt the hardest. I knew I had a problem when one of the drawn carts I mentioned above strode past me. And in the Bois de Boulogne, one of Paris’ big parks, there aren’t many spectators to keep you fired up. You have to make your way out of the woods beforehand. Marathon running seems to be a good analogy on life in general.
Et voila! The street is lined with people cheering and making you forget how much it hurts. I run past my old uni, Paris Dauphine, and see the finish on Avenue Foch, right in front of the Arc de Triomphe. For some reason, getting from the 42k mark to the finish is not a problem. It might be the photographers or the cheering crowd, or the carpet you’re jogging on.
Suddenly, it is over. Automatically, I keep walking, and in this walking fashion, everybody receives the t-shirt, the medal, the poncho to keep you warm, water, bananas, oranges and – a nice change – apples. My legs scream at me to sit down, and I happily oblige. As I sit down, it dawns on me that I’ve really made it. I have some water and then, I eat my apple. It tastes like Christmas, seven times over.
So again, why put this on the MiM blog? Because it was a MiM who convinced me to sign up and prepare for this event. I don’t know if I’m gonna run a marathon again soon, but I’m certainly happy to have done the first one. When I changed my facebook status to “DONE!” a fellow MiM replied: “Nice work. Now get ready for the New York Marathon!” Even the longest way seems to begin with the first step.
A beautiful and insightful account. I agree, running is a good analogy for life in general.
Posted by: Christine | 19/04/2010 at 08:44 PM