2.My First Race, the Athens Marathon (Part 2 of my Grecian Epic)

The buses left from Syntagma Square at 5:30 am. Most people don’t want to even see 5:30am let alone get up at that time with the knowledge that they will then be running 26.2 miles. For your first marathon, nothing is more intimidating than following the route by bus beforehand. For 45 minutes we seemed to descend downward (meaning the run back would be up) toward sea level as we came along the Aegean Sea. As it was still dark, all you could see is the little white foamy crests of small waves making their way to shore. We arrived in the small town of Marathon along with a caravan of buses a good two and a half hours before race time. There was a strong wind, rain, and it was terribly cold. All the runners were huddled under the concrete bleachers or up against the walls of the building trying to stay out of the rain, and patiently wait out the next two hours of freezing rain. It seemed as though psychological torment was some type of bizarre preparation for running, as if saying, we want to make you so miserable that by the time you have to start running, you will be actually glad about it. Thinking about it in a slightly more romantic view however, I shaped it into a struggle between myself and the pantheon of Greek gods and goddesses trying to impede my journey home.

Somehow, time passed, as it always does, and the race was ready to get underway. Around 6,000 participants entered their blocks as 9 am drew closer. I must admit, my stomach was thoroughly knotted up at this point. This was my first race and I wasn’t sure how running with others/people watching would affect me, and I knew I hadn’t exactly prepared rigorously (Note: Do not plan a vacation to Oktoberfest a month before a marathon). However, all those thoughts drifted off after I began. I have no real sense of the chronology of the event that followed, therefore I will just throw out a few observations, bullet point style, from the marathon.

- I actually was quite endeared to the all the volunteers and crowd during the race. I was pretty certain that this would be an impediment to me, but they put a smile on my face from the first kilometer to the 40th kilometer. The old Greeks, clapping and yelling bravo, the little kids handing out olive branches to the runners, the youth who volunteered to help; all were wonderful and added much to the experience.
- The greek landscape is quiet beautiful in that barren, rocky sort of way. You can see why the people here didn’t become intensive agriculturalist’s and instead relied on animal husbandry, viticulture and fishing.
- 19th to 31st kilometer was pretty much all up. Killed my pace and was the greatest challenge of the race. Wish I would have trained on some hills.
- Good marathon running is about preparation and not necessarily athletic build. Often times, you can eyeball a football player or basketball player and tell who has the physical gifts to be good, and who don’t. With marathoners, this didn’t seem to be the case. Someone who looks like a physically impressive specimen of humanity won’t exactly be the best marathon runner, while old haggard-looking guys can pass you up and you will never see them again.

Time passed, I kept my legs moving, and somehow I made it to the last 100m. As I turned the corner past the national gardens, before me stood the original Olympic stadium from the first modern games in 1896. I wish my body would not have been so physically exhausted so that I had the energy for some type of emotional response. However, my mind was focused on getting back to the hostel, showering, and sitting. After crossing the finish line, I got my medal and immediately went to find my friends to walk back. I knew the second I gave my legs a break they were done. Little did my legs know, tomorrow we would be climbing to the Acropolis.