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A Marathon Odyssey Chapter Excerpts Excerpt
1: Introduction: Excerpt 3: Having just arrived in Athens for the marathon Excerpt 4: Cruising the Greek Islands Excerpt 5: Arriving at the Cayman Islands Excerpt 6: The Cayman Islands Experience Excerpt 7: Travelling to Disney Excerpt 8: Some concluding comments
Excerpt 1: Introduction: "My calf muscles felt like they'd just been pounded with a hammer, there was an angry aching alien moving around unpredictably in my left knee, and someone was playing the cello with my Achilles tendon. The lungs once filled with air seemed reluctant to provide any more. A strained contorted smile appeared on my face, indicating that an acupuncturist had placed 82 pins inside my mouth. I couldn't go any further. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. I'd started training. 'Training' is a bit of a stretch. But there I was. An image that still sends shivers through the bone fragments in my knee. A beach in New Zealand. February, 2006. The sun streaming down, because there no other way for it to go. Waves crashing upon the shore as the cool pacific breeze, well, alright, gale actually, was doing everything to knock me down. People walking their dogs. Smiling at me with a touch of pity in their eyes. Their owners were doing the same. Had they realized I'd just run the entire length of the country? That would've been nice. Truth was I'd just taken an extremely long and painful time to run a very short distance. My first fifteen minute run in years. 'My God', I thought. Has it come to this? Apparently it had. ..."
Excerpt 2: Training "The run ended in complete darkness. I couldn't see anything by the end of it. So I ran out to the road where at least if I ran into something, like a car, I'd be able to see it coming. There are no lights on the road either, but it seemed safer than the fields. Then the one light I did have, the tiny blinking green light on my footpod, gave out, and at that point, with my navigation beacon lost, I plunged into total darkness. All in all I'm beginning to feel optimistic about Athens. According to the marathon pace charts in John Stanton's book, if I run a 5:40 pace per kilometre I will break the 4-hour time. My 35km time was at an average 5:55 per km pace). A sub 4-hour marathon pace would be fantastic, but only if it didn't affect my ongoing training for the other marathons. I did some hill training a couple of days later. The same Bracken road hills as other times. The hills had the same slope as before and nothing else had changed except the porcupine had withered away. It was the worse day by far for running, with heavy rain and a cold wind. I spent the morning continually looking out the window, trying to crystal ball when it would be best to run. In the end I decided there was no such thing as a best time, it was just one of those days. At least I thought I'd have shelter among the trees. Which turned out to be quite wrong. If it was a sheltered run I'd hate to see what an unsheltered run would look like. The rain was relentless. Even the trees were looking for shelter. The only time I got respite from the rain was when the wind blew it over the trees. I took Fred with me for the exercise, almost having to harness him to prevent the winds whisking him away as if he was in Kansas with Dorothy. Character building I said to myself as I seemed to run on the spot at times, and for me too, and important in case the weather could be like this when I'm running in Athens."
Excerpt 3: Having just arrived in Athens for the marathon "Back at the hotel I strip off, unpack, and have a hot bath. As with the streets, cars and my escape from the traffic, the bath is small and narrow. I fold myself into the bath and relax; my knees somewhere over the top of my head. I check to see that I'm not sitting in the sink by mistake but I see it's over there by my crushed razor. But I've no complaints. The Hotel is top-notch, the location great, and I'm in one piece - almost a ball right now as I sit in the bath thinking about the race to come. I'm dog tired, having not slept at all coming over, and looking forward to stretching out my body. Tomorrow I'll stand at the curb for several hours and pay homage to the God of Traffic, visit the stadium, register and get my 'commemorative bag' at the Expo, and talk to some runners. Homer's Odyssey sits close by on the night table by the bed, but I already know I will likely have to give it a miss on Night One in Athens. The cover looks good though. It's with great relief that I don't wake up until 10am. Which is 3am Ontario time. But I feel rested and anxious to go and register - I think it's a five-minute walk away. My left hip is still making itself felt but there's little I can do about it. Another review of my map and I discover I don't know where I'm going. Registration is in a building nowhere near where I'm staying, or the Stadium. After a quick breakfast in the hotel's courtyard I get the instructions on how to use public transport to get to the registration centre. Registration, it turns out, is a long way away from the hotel. An hour at least, using public transport. If I can find it and get on the right route. My time is limited in Athens and using most of it being lost doesn't make much sense. I order a taxi. One is ordered for me and within minutes a taxi driver comes into the Hotel and greets me. And off we go. But not for long. He doesn't know where the place is either. Fortunately another taxi driver nearby does. There's no point in me getting involved in the conversation but I'm feeling good that the accountability rests with the driver and I can sit back and relax. I'm looking forward to the Expo, and seeing what is in the goody bag. My driver takes off, thinking perhaps that I'm about to have a baby any minute, but the hospital is across town. By comparison, walking across the street in Athens looks as safe as watching a baby sleep. As the G-force drops and my jowls stop flapping I try and make some polite conversation. When did you retire from Formula One racing? Where do you keep the passengers' Helmut? As much as we'd both like to talk we realise it's not going to happen today. We eventually arrive at the Hellinikon Olympic Sports Complex. It's out at the old Athens airport. It's huge, but we have no idea how to get to the building itself and there is a 12ft high wire fence around the vast complex. We take a turn and drive into an obscure dead end. We're still half a kilometre from the building itself, but at least we've reached part of the fence. It's definitely not the entrance, but an older Swedish couple are there and they look like they know what they're doing. Well they're about to climb over the fence is what they're doing. My taxi driver calls out to them, asking for instructions. A rapid assessment of the situation and we determine that although small, we still can't lift the car over the fence. In three different languages we all agree we've found the Expo. This is cause for much celebration. The taxi driver invites them in the car, no charge he says, and we continue our Expedition. Bruno has run 28 Stockholm marathons. I'm impressed. I don't think I've run any route 28 times let alone 28 marathons. He and his wife are here because this is THE place where marathons started. They're in their sixties, maybe seventies, but they look lean, healthy and bursting with energy. We all strategise in different languages about the best route to take to get to the building without having to climb the fence. Weighing up the various options available we all decide to 'drive-around-till-we-can-get-in'. It works. We're greeted by a tight security check-point at what seems to be the main entranceway. Maybe the G-8 is meeting there as well. Perhaps Brad and Angelina are registering their children. Whatever the case, we are stopped at three different checkpoints through the parking lot before finally getting to the building's entrance. If nothing else, the driver might think we're more important than we are. It was a 10 euro taxi fare, but the entertainment has been worth twice as much. The Swedish couple insist on paying or at least tipping the driver for the short ride they had, or they also highly valued the entertainment. We're just pleased to finally arrive at the Registration and Expo. There's always a high level of expectation and anticipation with Expos."
Excerpt 4: Cruising the Greek Islands "We speed off down Syngrou. I've gone back and forth on Syngrou every day except the marathon day and it always looks crazy. We're off to the Port of Pireaus to board the 'Giorgis' for the 1-day cruise. It's a spectacular day with blue sky and a full sun. Because it's at the intersection of Asia, Africa and Europe, Pireaus is the busiest port in the Mediterranean and the third busiest in the world. Marathoners and tourists like myself make it even busier. It was once an island, once fortified, and once a city unto itself, but these days, like all major urban areas in the world, it really feels like part of the sprawling metropolis nearby. With thousands of years of history it would be a great place to explore. Today though, the main and only thing to do here is to get off Purple Bus #3 and board the Giorgis. About 200 complete strangers are disembarking from buses all over and heading for the boat. I make an immediate impression by smashing my head on the door frame as I entered the lower level indoor dining area. In fairness to myself the height of the doorway was about 5ft, most tourists are smaller I suppose, and I wasn't expecting to be doing limbo at 8am. Within seconds of the collision I'm ushered over to the left where I pose for a photo with a girl in traditional Greek costume. I'll be able to purchase this photo later in the day for 5 Euros. It could be a good one as I'm not sure whether my forehead is bleeding or not or if I'll only have a lumpy bruise to show for my efforts. I take my concussion over to the nearest seat I can find. I'm not bleeding as it turns out but my head is throbbing. In part that's because the Saxaphone and Synthesizer ensemble has started playing North American and British music from the 1950s for us. It's a very surreal moment right now, made moreso as people get up and start dancing. It's not even 8:30am. An accordion makes an appearance. It's all on now."
Excerpt 5: Arriving at the Cayman Islands "I'd brought my computer with me, as these days I'd feel naked without it. I'd been told the hotel was wireless and I wanted to keep in touch with everyone at home. The waiting at the airport had conditioned me for waiting at Reception, which had prepared me for the wait for the VISA saga, which had created a Zen-like trance that helped me as Luke and I spent the rest of the day setting me up with wireless Internet access. It's a wonderful Nirvana sort of thing when you finally get connected. By this point I'm ready to throw myself through concrete walls to get to the beach. Instead, I run. It doesn't take long to get there, even at my pace, because the Hotel is right on Seven Mile beach, which isn't seven miles, but may as well be. It's long. It's sandy, and the water so warm that you look for the cold tap because you can't believe sea water can be this warm. And buoyant. I sit there in the water without sinking and it feels great. No more waiting for one thing. I look around to see mainly brown or at least burnt bodies everywhere. And this pale guy sitting in the water, clearly fresh off the plane. In these moments I have to treat myself, partly because no-one else will, and so I go to the outdoor bar/restaurant and have a glass of wine. "
Excerpt 6: The Cayman Islands Experience "All good things come to an end and new one's begin. I walk back with Alice and Thomas to the Hotel. Well almost. Turns out the Jazz Festival is en route, they plan things so well down here, and I can't resist going in. How many times in your life do you get to go to a major Jazz Festival that is 10 minutes from your Caribbean Hotel? It's $50 admission, which doesn't seem like a great deal, and, if you would like, another $2 for a plastic patio seat, which I thought was a novel way of doing things. I was able to get the chair of my choice from the seat dispensers and take it to wherever I want to sit in the open field. I park my chair at the back of the crowd, and yet I'm still within metres of the stage. I'm feeling quite proud to be here, and somewhat surprised there's not more people. Two hours later we're right into the music with Swanky and Hi Tide. People haven't stopped coming in, and, suddenly it seems, I'm no longer at the back of the audience but appear to be in front. Thousands have arrived. Seating is now at a premium and the festive occasion is just getting more and more festive. A woman walks through the seated folks up front asking if all the chairs are taken; to which everyone politely says yes - if there is a chair unoccupied it's only because someone is off to the washroom or to get a drink or both. Seeing the futility in asking she uses the stealing gambit, picks up a plastic hair and makes a run for it. Immediately a silver haired man, I'm guessing in his nineties, leaps to his feet, balances, and takes off to bring her down. Or at least get the chair back. He does. And the crowd goes wild. We've a new hero. As much as I'd like to go to the washroom, well, a portapotty, partly because of all the water I've drunk today, I don't want to leave my chair alone. I cant take it with me either. But it's quickly getting desperate, so I bequeath my chair to the couple beside me and head back into the darkness where the portapotties sit quietly waiting. The music has been brilliant. More therapy. It's close to 11pm when Natalie Cole finally comes on. Her music blasts me into the back fence. Her voice makes sure I stay there. It's an explosion of sound that sets car alarms going off in Cuba. I'm increasingly conscious of the fact that I have to get up around 3:30am. It's almost midnight now and I still have to walk back to the Hotel. If I stay too long I'll also go deaf and will likely miss my 3:30am alarm clock going off. I wave good-bye to Natalie but I guess she's busy. And unlikely to be running tomorrow. Better chance of seeing her again at the Ritz buffet."
Excerpt 7: Travelling to Disney "We put on our Mickey Mouse Ears, sang Disney songs and danced to the airport ready for adventure, fantasy, frontiership, and tomorrow. Well sort of. We did go to the airport at any rate. Up early to drive 3 hours to Toronto airport to catch the American Airlines flight to Orlando, Florida. We drove to Toronto with Scott and Jordan, son and girlfriend of friends of Karen's, who instead of running somewhere, were flying out of Toronto to some Caribbean adventure on the same day. We're staying at the Caribbean Resort at Disney, but I doubt it's the same thing. Trinidad to be precise. Apparently. Of more immediate concern is the fact that we will have to fly to Florida. I'm stopped at the security check in Toronto and although I avoid a cavity check it's made clear I will lose my little plastic jar of Vaseline. I'd been planning a smearing rampage over all the passengers at 30,000 feet, so it's just as well they stopped me. Flying is not a major concern for me, but Karen is not one of your happiest flyers, even though she's flown thousands of miles in the past few years for work and pleasure. You don't realise how much turbulence there really is until you've sat beside Karen on a flight. She has had instant religious epiphanies, seizures, paralysis, bouts of hysteria, vice like gripping moments on other passenger's legs and arms and will try to sell her children if it will influence the flight in any way. It's even worse when the plane takes off. To compensate I would say useless things like 'it will be over soon', or 'its blue sky now', and, the ubiquitous 'can I do anything?' All of which do nothing to make Karen feel good. I suppose at least it's taking her mind of the marathons. I've not yet come to grips with the fact that I've lost my Vaseline but life goes on. It's a rough flight, no doubt about it. We tossed and turned while Will Ferrell did the same on Taledaga Nights showing above us. Lucky for us, and the airline, the plane lands. And right where we were hoping it would. Once in Orlando's airport we search for Disneyworld. There's a shuttle waiting to take us away on our magical experience. It's not hard to find, especially when you can see the white's of the Disney staff teeth from several hundred metres away. We're placed in the respective corral to indicate which resort we are heading for. We're happy waiting inside because its 27 degrees outside and brutally humid and stinky where the buses arrive. But its not long before we are sitting in our air conditioned bus listening repeatedly to Disney tunes on the overhead televisions. For some reason there is no image on the televisions, just the relentless cheeriness - call it music I suppose - of the noise coming through the system. Part 1 of the indoctrination perhaps. We have no idea where we are going, but then we're not expected to. We get ushered out of the bus, and are put in a line-up, get used to it, and eventually we have our room assignments. At this point we actually walk, in the fresh humid air to our rooms. It's dark by now but it looks like we have some sort of Lake in front of us, I'm guessing it's the Caribbean Sea. We've come from a Canadian Winter to almost the Caribbean. Nice to finally be here. Will have to think about running at some point."
Excerpt 8: Some concluding comments "We have, perhaps, lost touch with the simple things in life. Lost touch with how to make ourselves feel good. I shouldn't talk on behalf of the rest of the world, I suppose, but for me at least, I know that the simple act of getting up and moving - getting out and running - even for 15-20 minutes, energises me and gives me a space to think. I'm made to move and not to sit at a desk in front of a computer. My body gets rejuvenated through the simple act of exercise. It functions better, and my mind is sharper. It's not just about the running, though. There is a rippling effect. Because I want to increase my distance, or improve my ability at the longer distances, I've got to continually improve my eating habits, stretch more, and sleep more. The more I run, the stronger my cartilage-less knee feels. If I've worked less over the past 2 ½ months, I can categorically say I've worked better in less time. Quality work, not quantity work. I realise I'm one of those people that need goals. If I don't have goals how will I ever be able to achieve what I want in life? But they have to be realistic. By achieving what I set out to do here, my confidence in setting other goals has been made that much stronger. The 'challenge,' if that's the right word, is being committed to making those goals happen. Anyone can set goals, or make promises. That's easy. The hardest and most rewarding part is setting down a path towards making them happen. Faith in yourself is a powerful thing. Achieving goals makes that faith stronger. At the same time, it's not all about achieving goals; it's also about enjoying the journey you take to achieve the goals. I've had a remarkable and unforgettable experience. So have thousands of others who have run marathons and gotten caught up in an unofficial social movement along the way. I'm like everyone else; the only difference is that I've decided to write about it. It's January now. People in New Zealand are revelling in the summer; some are emailing to tell me how great the weather is on the other side of the world, and letting me know how concerned they are that snow and ice are a fact of life for me for the next three months. They're laughing of course, but that's okay because I'll be emailing them in June, July and August expressing my equal concern about their winter and telling them about the spectacular summers we have here in Ontario. And I'll be running as well. It will likely be for an express purpose - running towards a goal or two. Maybe three, I don't know. The possibilities are endless. I think that's one of the biggest things I've realised. When you have children you want them to be everything they can possibly be, and for them to be able to see that life offers enormous opportunities to satisfy their souls. We don't exactly speak like that to children, of course, but we don't want their world to be closed in. If we ourselves are fortunate enough, we offer them possibilities and create opportunities, and see what they can accomplish with them. Maybe we lose sight of that as we grow up. Maybe the attainment of goals through running long distances puts the excitement back in life on physical, social, mental, emotional, and spiritual levels we've lost sight of. Whether we achieve the possible or not, the act of attempting to reach our goals - in my case getting up and moving - will still be better than to never have tried. I'm now going way beyond what I set out to achieve with this book. The simple act of repetitively placing one foot in front of the other for a long period of time has brought me rewards I never thought possible a year ago, or even three months ago. I've discovered that there's nothing wrong with this addiction. And if this book has in any way made you think that running may be a good thing that you want to try, or do more of, then writing it has been worthwhile. I'm but one very small part of the bigger phenomenon. We don't typically call running a marathon a phenomenon, but I think we can when a million people worldwide are running marathons each year. Hopefully we are role models for each other, and hopefully we are role models for our children. Why is marathon running a movement? It's healthy at every different level. It's inspirational. It's rewarding. It's fun. It's clean. It supports local economies. It provides employment, directly and indirectly. It introduces you to new places and new people; it makes this world a smaller place. While not everyone can run marathons - or want to for that matter - if they really want to, most people can train to run at least some distance, even if it's just around the block. And if running really isn't their thing, walking is a great substitute. The point, I suppose, is that at the core of this bigger social movement is movement itself at the individual level. No-one can make people move; they have to want to do it. And more of us seem to want to. As the numbers earlier in the book indicate, more people are certainly discovering the reward of running long distances. I'm looking out the window. It's a dreary grey morning with some snow and ice on the ground and a cold wind blowing the branches of the leafless trees. Part of me thinks it's best I don't run today. But a much bigger part of me thinks it is best that I do run today. I look for excuses not to run, but really, they are not convincing. And so I get changed into my running gear. No music. No running computer. No fuel belt. I'm happy to run with nothing but my own thoughts. That's another transition for me; I don't need the extras any more to enjoy running. Out 'there' I'll plan the day; I'll dream; I'll listen to my body; I'll take in the sights; I'll talk to the animals; I may sing. There's a great chance I'll get an idea I don't even know about. And I'll be better off for having run. Powerful stuff for me, and I can't imagine not having these moments in my life. And I'll think of the people I've met over the past few months. The children cheering me along the Athens marathon route. The hugs from other runners, complete strangers, at the finish lines of each marathon. The runner in Disney World who talked to us excitedly about finishing every Disney marathon that had ever been run. The owner of the store in Athens who was hoping this book would be written in Greek. The bus driver in Orlando who couldn't understand why anyone would want to walk, let alone run, twenty-six miles. And all the volunteers in the Cayman Islands who stole from their sleep to come out at 4:00am on a Sunday to support a bunch of crazy people running in the darkness around their island." |
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