Among those of us who run marathons, as among those who share any affinity, anecdotes jump out one after another. So it was last night between DSQ runners and our wives. Everyone tells their story, their moment, their excuse or reason, between euphoria or resignation, joy or frustration. And so, I am going to tell you my story of yesterday, between the peace of a deep spiritual relief and the inevitable bodily pain after finishing a marathon. Will you spare me a few minutes? Come on, move on to the next paragraph.
First things first. I came for my personal best and I did it, only in reverse, because instead of running my best time… I ran my worst. A little before kilometer 30, between one cramp and another, I threw in the towel and focused on finishing, walking and jogging as fast as I could. Was I bad? Not at all, I was lousy, although I made it to the finish line for my sixth and last marathon medal. I had already anticipated that I would no longer run this distance, and if I had any doubts about my decision before, after yesterday I don’t have a single one.
In my last three marathons, as in the first one, cramps have been my torture. With all kinds of different forecasts, programs and training plans, my legs seemed determined to refuse to continue after the twenty-eighth kilometer. To such an extreme has been their rebelliousness, that in a scene that made me the aforementioned lower extremities even offered me an ambulance.
On a day like yesterday, cramp after cramp, my legs decided by exception not to make me the scene of the cramp. I think to return the favor for having slowed down completely, although I was in the torture chamber for more than ten kilometers between walking and jogging one heavy step after another. I think we often accept pain unnecessarily, just as we often impose goals on ourselves that are not meant for us. I admit that in my case I have done so with the marathon thing.
Unlike Twin Cities or Berlin, where I asked myself many times “What am I doing here? Or what is this voluntary and torturous torture all about, yesterday in New York I knew I was running to close a cycle. I suffered pain in my legs to reach the 26.2 mile finish line for the last time. Perhaps because of this, when the desired time was no longer an option, I cared zero about the record, the will disappeared in seconds, the legs were no longer strong enough and I was simply content to finish. It was an eternal ordeal, while hundreds of thousands of people shouted as in another irony of life: “Go, go, you’re looking good”.
The marathon is not for everyone. I am among them, even though I have finished it six times. My composition has some shortcomings that lead to cramps and stiffness. While I could keep insisting on discovering and resolving them, I don’t want to live with that pressure anymore and will stay in the range of what I enjoy: I’m moving on to the half marathon. Simple and elegant, in peace and gratitude, for health and J4F, which means a joyful “just for fun”.
My life like everyone’s, is full of competitions. Today on the Monday after a marathon I am savoring having decided not to compete anymore in one area of my life, to give myself the license of the simple joy of running. The half marathon is the distance for me. It’s time to understand that and readjust my plan. At the same time, it makes me wonder if I need to readjust in other areas of my life as well. Do you follow me in this line of thinking?
“Pain is fleeting. Abandonment is forever,” said a sign at the Twin Cities Marathon a year ago. Yesterday I saw an adaptation on the streets of Brooklyn: “Pain is temporary. Pride is forever.” I agree and as I read it just today, “Better to do something imperfect, than to do nothing perfect.”
You learn from everything and at every moment there is an opportunity to do so. Yesterday I barely survived the New York marathon, although I end up telling you about my sweet revenge. In Berlin, Haile Gebreselassie set the world marathon record in 2:03:59. He beat me because I came in about two and a half hours later. He was number one, and I must have been number 35,000. Resounding. Yesterday Haile dropped out of the race with an injury while he was in the front pack. I mean, in this one I beat him, as did all of us who made it to the finish as well.
After one of the most inspiring stories in world sport, the great Gebreselassie, the Ethiopian gazelle announced his retirement from marathons. After one of the most unknown and anonymous stories of athletics, mine, I do the same. 😉
In the meantime, this is how I walk today:
