Bugger Marathons

…well that was what I was thinking as I trudged my way through some industrial wasteland on the outskirts of Amsterdam. 'This is not fun', 'I am not enjoying this','This is not making me a better person', 'I just it to finish', 'I am not learning anything about myself', were the thought fragments. I actually did not mind the bleak scenery because I had retreated so completely inside myself I was paying little attention to the outside world. I was worn out and could run no further. Several times I tried to get going again but it quickly fizzled and all I could hope for was to complete the distance by walking.

Damn - it wasn't meant to be like this. The plan was to run fairly steadily for 42k and feel some warm glow of satisfaction but it is amazing how plans can unravel.

There were two main problems. The first was that I caught a cold a few days before the race and on Friday, as I coughed and spluttered, I wondered if it was sensible to start. But my record of not starting marathons weighs very heavy and I knew that I had to give it a go as long as the infection did not reach my chest. So off I went and Saturday was a good day and I felt quite a lot better with little coughing; everything now seemed clear, I would run. However I then stumbled into the second problem - my own stupidity. Instead of making allowances for the for the fact that the virus was still floating about and was probably not up to full strength, I just ran to my original plan.

Everything was fine in the beginning and I got to half way in 2' 05, which there or there abouts, but I knew I had been slowing and that my strength was ebbing away. I was like the man falling from a skyscraper who passes the 14 floor shouting OK so far. After 29k it was only about survival and getting to the end, which I did in a smidgen under 5 hours. For the last quarter of the race I felt mixture frustration, impotent rage, resignation and embarassment.

The odd thing was that when I crossed the line I did not feel down, decide I was useless and generally beat myself up. No I actually felt quite proud that I had finished and good that I had done it , even if it did go wrong. Whatever the time I had done it.

The thing is that it had been part of a good weekend. I really enjoy the atmosphere of Amsterdam and it was good to meet both Beanz and Womble for lunch in one of the grand cafes. The hotel was fine and in a good location and the meal after on Sunday night was excellent. On Monday we visited the Van Gogh Museum and saw a wonderful exhibition about Barcelona 1900, which included a couple of amazingly detailed architectural models, some charming early Picassos, a haunting portrait of Eric Satie in his bare apartment and some film of the docks and the streets.

So apart from 13k everything was just dandy. Even that 13k was survivable and there is always another day to get them right.

Sometime I will get them right!