HEY!
If I don't get to the library during this busy week, this will be my last blog. So without further ado... I now bring you the final excerpts from the book, The Looniness of the Long Distance Runner... An unfit Londoner's attempt to run the New York City Marathon from scratch.
...Half of us runners are wearing old jumble sale clothes which we intend to discard before the race, therest are dressed as giant Power Bars thanks to a complimentary hand-out of yellow binliners printed with the logo of this energy-boosting snack.
...An announcement on the public address system informs us that the pre-Marathon religious services are about to start. We have a choice of denomination: Christian, Jewish or Muslim. The Muslims probably find themselves better stretched for the race with all the bowing they do and the Jews get to wear little hats to keep out the cold, but sadly I am stuck with the nominal faith of C of E.
...An Episcopal priest in full running kit hops up on the podium and delivers a rousing sermon about the "inner running" he has been doing inpreparation for the Marathon. This, he tells us, involves prayer, meditation and relaxation. And I'm the mug who's been slogging round Hampstead in the rain, I think ruefully. The priest says a short prayer and ends with, "Go for it! Amen." (God) probably is grateful for anyone He can get - but surely He draws the line at 200 worshippers singing "How Great Thou Art" dressed as Power Bars?
...Now it's time for Communion featuring, no doubt, Energy Hosts supplied by Power Bars Inc, enabling worshippers to combine Absolution with Carb-loading. I decide to pass on this and slip off to search for the so-called Longest Urinal in the World.
...My bowels and bladder are now thoroughly evacuated and I don't know what to do next. It's too cold to sit down, but I don't want to tire myself by just walking round and round....I decide to go to the loo again. Now out of any physiological need but because with a cold Atlantic wind now blowing the loos are the cosiest place to sit, especially after they have been used a few dozen times and the warmth is rising from the open cesspit beneath. As I stand in line - now 15 deep - one guy runs along a row of 75 cubicles banging on each door and shouting urgently: "Come on! Come on!" Terrified occupants emerge, jogging pants awry, fearing they have missed the start of the race.
...And excitable man takes the microphone and informs us that, "This is the New York City Marathon." As if some of us might be in the wrong race and not yet have noticed. "I'm so sorry", we might say, picking our way through the 25,000 strong crowd. " I thought this was Boston."
...I know I am not going to win this race, literally or metaphorically, but someone (and I hope lots of people) will finish behind me. Not coming last: that's the point.
...We are running, tightly bunched, now and the first thing I discover is that the Longest Urinal in the World is not a 100 metre gutter - it is the Verranzano Narrows Bridge. To my amazement less than half a kilometer into the race, men are lined up along the iron parapet voiding nervous bladders into the bay.
...One man is running backwards. Please God, don't let him beat me. Another man in dark glasses, presumably blind, is holding hands with a hopefully sighted companion.
...As well as spectators, we also encounter our first drink station. I grab two cups of water, drink one and pour the other one over my head. I'm not particularly hot or dehydrated, this is just what real marathoners do.
...A marathon is like a pregnancy. It is a huge endeavor that people undertake sometimes by choice, sometimes , like me, by chance. Once embarked on it you experience joy, fear and pain in various degrees. But you know you have to go through with it and that in the long term you won't regret what you've done. Now I am in the finish chute i am about to reach the marathoning equivalent to post-natal depression.
...Running is something we just assume we know how to do. It doesn't occur to us that we should have any lessons or take any advice on it. We would never be so complacent if we were thinking of hang-gliding or pole-vaulting. Yet most of us probably haven't refined our running technique since we scampered round the playground as infants.
...I pass a bench where a couple of runners are seated blank-faced and uncommunicating like old people. This is exactly what I want to do, I think, and hobble over. I sit down. Sure enough it hurts. I wonder if I'll be able to get up again. I don't care. I don't want to think about anything else. I stop existing and sit there for probably quite a while.
...I force myself up from the bench before my leg joints stiffen in a permanent sitting position. My mother has my tracksuit and money so my first thought, sensibly, is to find her. I must strike a pathetic and woeful figure as I trudge along and a concerned steward asks me if I want the medical tent. I shake my head. What I actually want is to burst into tears and shout "I want my Mummy" but I realize this would be embarrassing and unproductive as they don't know where she is either.
...The week after a marathon is spent trying to draw people's attention to your achievement. This is not so hard really. The fact that your aching calves oblige you to descend staircases backwards is bound to provoke comment. Then there is your medal. Throughout December mine was deplayed on the top of my Christmas tree for maximum visibility.
...I have now completed a marathon and thus have the right to call myself a runner...
I hope you enjoyed those as much as I did. I am trying to keep from laughing out loud in the library. I am not as nervous or excited yet. I may feel it the night before. I am just enjoying the carb-loading. I have faith that everyone will finish, even those that are doubting themselves. (Old habits die hard.) Just remember that you deserve good things and that if there were no challenges in life, how would you build your character? It takes a special calibre to embark on such a journey. We all embarked on this journey for a reason. You're not in this alone. Heck, you got 40,000 people stepping out on faith with you this Sunday. Yes, some have done it before, but each day is a new day...you never know. If you see someone struggling, give a word or hand. Positivity can be contagious if you let it be. So smile, pat yourself on the back and say "I've made it." One last run to complete the journey. If you give up now, you'll always wonder, 'what if'. And that is surely no way to live out the rest of your life.
Rockettes, I'll see you in the a.m. . To my fellow Marathoners, I'll see you Friday wearing a smile... and the rest of my clothes.
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1 comment:
Thanks for sharing that hysterical blog. You don't get to the library often but you sure do make good use of your time there!
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