|
When the Canada Custom's man asked if I had anything to declare I felt like saying "I didn't know you could hurt so much...".
I am reminded of a Bob Dylan song: "when you think you've lost everything, you find out you can always lose a little more...". With a little bricolage, my version would have been, when you think you have nothing left to give, you find there's always a little more to give, and it comes from the very place where the pain comes from...
Thanks for all your kind words, and I will try to be brief (but here in Voudou land, there's more freedom).
In Hopkinton there was a misty, on-and-off rain, and it was on the cold side. 'Athlete's Village' looked rather dismal, so I set up camp against the high school, sitting a plastic bag which I covered with last year's Boston marathon t-shirt. It was very quiet... no outbursts or expressions of 'nerves'. I had, like everyone else, a few hours to wait so I continued reading RNR's short story (while the guy next to me was reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, which amused me tremendously - RNR you were in good company...).
Walking to the start line (and the buses in which to leave our bags) was most amusing. I was wearing a T-Shirt Voudou made - With 'C'est Showtime' written on it. Many commented on it - and I was hoping my BB friends in Boston would notice and say hello... It didn't happen but I met Observer...
Oh mye, dear me...
The start was exciting... it is so amazing how many spectators there are after the start line...
Just one kilometer into the race there was a woman holding a sign that read "Boston - 103 miles" and it was signed Arthur Andersen...
Just after that there was another woman with a sign saying "(name of male runner) I am waiting for you at the finish line, and I am not wearing underwear".
Soon after the start my leg (sacro-iliacs, back, the works) starting acting up. A Californian woman, named Johanna (like in another Dylan song) ran with me for the first 19 kilometers. We talked throughout, urged eachother on, shooting for 3:20, hoping for better. We ran elbow to elbow, waited for eachother when we had to weave through slower traffic... It was very enjoyable. Good runner, she was, and she was not wearing a watch (that always impresses me). I told her about my leg, and how I was giving myself until the Half to slow down, maybe would things would get better before then (it's called 'pensée magique'). She was trying to get me to reason...
At kilometer 19 it hit. The pain shot through my leg like a burning rod. I slowed down to fetch water, and walked for a few seconds... it only got worse with every kilometer...
Then the fun began... Heartbreak was a test... I picked it up after that but once I realized I would not clock the time I was hoping, I sensed relief. But the pain, I had never felt anything like this. The urge to stop was so strong...
I was trying not to limp, that would have made matters worse, I think I managed, and I picked it up again (it was either that or I crashed).
Then the finish line was ahead - it seemed so far but so inviting. I am not the one to interact with the crowd but for no reason a flashed a peace sign to the people on my right and the crowd picked it up and started roaring. Flashed a peace sign to the people in the stands on my left... the noise!
Went directly to the massage hall... lied down on my stomach and told the masseuse (she was from Maine) about L3 and sacro-illiaques, and had to hold down the tears while she was hammering away.
Went back to my hotel, called home, got seriously into a Heineken, and told myself it will take some time to understand what happened today...
Give a day or two, and I will report back. Right now I'm slightly down, but so happy I did not DNF on my last marathon...
Post a reply on the Bulletin Board | Send email reply to North
| 
