The Athens Classic Marathon

The Marathon was a unique experience in my life. The unity of my passions in history, fitness, charity, literature, photography, travel and comeraderie (and laziness, too) have rarely if ever been matched by this event. My final, official time was 3 hours, 59 minutes and 45 seconds. Not bad for a first marathon; I beat 4 hours!

I thought about a lot along the course: the parched Mediterranean hills between Marathon and Athens, Phidippidus and why the heck didn't he just ride a horse, my friends running with me (for a few kilometers, literally; I ran with my pal Greg for 3 or 4 Km), the Bulgarian Scouts we were running for, my training, lines from the Iliad, Thucidites, Plutarch and others, about when to snap pictures and more. I brought a disposable camera along with me for the entire couse and have some serviceable snapshots. People around the finish line who cheered me through the marble Pan-Olympic Stadium laughed as I pulled up my camera for the finish-line photo.

I had a very good first half-marathon, finishing 21.1 Km in 1:48:12 or so, about a 3:35 marathon pace. At Km 27 or 28, my muscles uncontrollably cramped in dangerously painful and sudden ways. I promised that I wouldn't let myself push to injury, so I began a stretching-walking-running routine for the remainder of the race. The frustrating part was that from 30.5 K to the end of the race was fully downhill or flat. I wasn't very tired, but if I ran too hard or far, my legs would cramp so intensely that I could not bend them without stopping to walk. I did some unwise things during the race: I drank powerade and ate GU gel in addition to drinking water. All of my training was performed without either methods of electrolyte replacement, and I suspect that my body was simply unused to the extra nutrients. Well, that last 12 Km was just about the hardest running I've ever done.

When I crossed the finish line, all of the pain and effort, the training and anticipation, the days of emotion, the joy of completing such a trek hurt and broke through my chest. I saw my pal Thomas, who finished the race just ahead of me, and wanted to cry (but I was dehydrated and am a big man, hardy har). We walked a bit, then sat and drank water in near silence together. We soon found others in our group and cheered our remaining team-mates as they neared the finish line. I am still amazed at the sincere and universal support the greeks gave runners along the length of the course. People would stand cheering with their children, "Bravo, bravo! Gud Djob! Bravo!" old or young, sometimes in chairs at the side of the road. It gave me energy to see and hear them giving such sincere support.

What an experience.