So, let me go through my own marathon experience with you. First, we get to the marathon, to find that we have to walk all the way around the gear check/meeting areas/first aid/massage area/finish area just to get into it. Only one end was available for entry, apparently. Next, no toilet paper, and pee all over the port-a-potty, and do I mean everywhere. Then, we finally get to the corrals, and I attempt to get to my starting area. No go. So, standing, waiting, waiting…I feel a hand on my butt. Then another, then another, etc. Someone caressed my arms. Twice. 5, count ‘em, 5 men touched my butt. I was surrounded by testosterone and the testosterone chose not to reign itself in. Kinda the theme of the run, it turns out. We finally get started, and I was having a hard time running any kind of decent pace because of the crowds (I will never run another large marathon), and I’m worrying about wasting energy dodging and weaving. Cue the first water stop: imagine people who have been walking through the desert with no water for 2 weeks, and have finally come upon a water and food supply. That’s what it felt like. (At every water station.) Couple that with orange and banana peels on the ground, as well as dried fruit and water. I slipped. Skipping ahead to mile 19, after having been pushed at every water station, speeding up and slowing down nonstop to get around all the men who kept cutting me off, and frequently having to come more or less to a standstill at the bottlenecks and from being behind people who would just stop and walk in the middle of the road. I was on pace and felt great until around mile 19, when it struck me how much my legs were fatigued due to the above mentioned stupidity. I pretty much did the smartest thing I could do at that point. I realized I would not make my time goal, unless I spent the next 7 miles doing more of the same, most likely injuring myself in the process. My thighs were starting to cramp by then, and I was losing focus, and more and more men kept cutting me off, so I threw in the towel and chalked this one up to a shitty experience. It hurts that I did not make my goal, but I finished despite the shoving, the 75 degree weather, having my ass grabbed, and all of the other annoying little things that wear you out when you’re trying to go the distance. Lumpy and I were just sitting here whispering about this marathon. I was wondering if I have a sub-4 hr marathon in me. He thinks I do, and frankly, I know I do. I just don’t know how to find the race that matches my needs. Definitely one that does not have 35,000 people running it.
OH, I forgot to mention the 2 spectators I saw at mile 23, pushing aside runners to get to the free fruit and water. That was neat. Really, really neat. I hate this place. (ok, just these idiots…) It’s 12:40 now and I should attempt to get some more sleep in. More later.
Or, why I hate Paris, the Paris Marathon, and everything else for good measure.
