I said I was going to run the Rome Marathon to enjoy it. He said he had never seen the wall. Now I say that a marathon can not be enjoyed. Now say I saw the wall, the wall, the wall of China, the moat, and the grave of the marathon. Already
I told my friend Marc who finished in 3 hours (a fucking crack), remind me to never again run two marathons in 15 days, remind me again not to lose respect for the marathon and confronts him with the awareness that deserves. Please remember me to just run a marathon in full authority.
When preparing this article I studied a little marathon of the 1960 Rome Olympics, Abebe Bikila's victory in bare feet. I write about Baldini, the only Italian-winning Olympic marathon in Athens 2004 and I explain these two historic events. But after what I experienced this weekend, let me tell you just my personal experience. Of these pieces of history of athletics, certainly exciting, I suggest a couple of links where you will discover details worth knowing:
weekend travel to Rome and run the Marathon was a dream that I was going to play, but time always the damn time, would make this a little odyssey. Traveling to Rome without knowing it and pretend to make the most of a day and spend another tourist to run 42.195 meters is too much to ask the body. Used to stop on Saturday meant an average tourist marathon kicked Vatican City, Piazza San Pietro, Castel Sant'Angelo, Piazza Navona, the Pantheon, the Campo dei Fiori market, the Roman Forum, Colosseum, Circo Massimo ... only thing missing was the obligatory visit to the Exhibition which gave the lats, which is a major waste of time. Who wants to visit the Fair Corridor (very complete, of course) when we visit the Plaza of Spain or the Fontana di Trevi. The accumulated fatigue of the week, an early cold and I'm supposed to kick a general malaise that only I can solve with Ibuprofen. Set conditions for running a marathon.
D-Day I wake up drenched in sweat, the fever is making its effect. I have to get me another ibuprofen to run, if not not go out. My breakfast is unfortunate, with a paltry croissant and coffee with milk, but I have no hunger. I will not dwell on the head, here I come to enjoy, heh. Hands.
time ago I was given a team jersey signed by English athletics De la Ossa. Running home I wanted to wear it, but I thought going abroad would be nice to let everyone see that I had struck an important trip from Barcelona to run the Maratona di Roma.
I wearing the shirt of Spain and starts playing the anthem of Italy, which recently celebrated its 150 th anniversary of Italian unity, the faces of many Italians are painted with the "Italian flag" Everybody sing, some with hand on his chest. No reason to deny it, the music is beautiful, even my background makes me shudder, but if you look a little on the letter "Siam Pronti alla morte, l'Italia chiamo" (We are ready to die, Italy has called). Ugh, no, no, it did not cool anything. In short, the nationalist orgy ominous. I do that every day I feel more a citizen of the world and I feel less represented by a flag ... We
at the time of departure, and the fever has dropped me and I remain as calm as all week, I may not be aware of what's next above. Van said over the PA all representatives of each country. English are more than 700 on March 20, 2011 at the start of the Via dei Fori Imperiali. Shortly before leaving we announce that these 42.195 km are about to discover new corners of Rome and new sensations did not know. Suffering begins, we go.
a few miles I begin to sweat a lot, I do not know if this is something of a fever or leave as late (9.00) or what. I will not stop, but I'm running at less than 5 km. I know Carlos de Santander will share the half marathon. He also wears a red shirt, heh. No broker has great looks and I think we will leave later. We hooked the globe 3:30 am I still wonder why, why did I hurry.
But the truth is that when we passed the half in 1:45 and I noticed that not all well. I tell him I want to go pull more relaxed. Start the ordeal.
I never walked in my socks or two marathons I've done. But at kilometer 25 and I have many problems and the 28 and I walk a stretch. I think I have 14 miles and it's going to be tough. I do not know if it makes sense to continue. I run along the fences to prevent not pass me those coming from behind. I stumble over and fall to the ground. I can hardly stand up, look like a boxer who is groggy. For a moment I decide to quit at 30, but when I do not find the place of attendance (the point of "Retiro" announcing in the route book) and I realize that the exit points may not be listed on hype and dish because there would be a stampede when people see them. Luckily I did not see.
Despite the unfortunate physical condition in which I am, still holds the competitive edge to obsess when I do not hare reaches 3:45 am, and once it has, it does not get the balloon 4 hours. I do not understand why, but my head was still working well. And come to enjoy.
As in Barcelona, \u200b\u200bthe end of the marathon runs through the month tourist sites of Rome. The English team jersey does its job and it's amazing how much support and encouragement I receive from the English who are in Rome. Give me strength to continue jogging to a miserable pace of 6 minutes per kilometer. Give me strength to walk as little as possible, though at times I must. Attempt to answer each greeting with a nod or a word. That and cross the Piazza Navona, Piazza Spain, the Fontana di Trevi make my head keep entertaining the possibility of abandonment will decrease by the minute. I just want to get to Piazza Venezia, and from there, and very near the end trying to get the best vision of the Colosseum and the last mile on the Via dei Fori Imperiali. I just want to have that medal to prove I finished the Rome Marathon. In my mind there is nothing, only the medallion.
I see the banner of the last mile, it finally just ... How? It is the last mile! That puts red spot "Circo Massimo" banner as the last mile is about 500 meters ahead! Do not even know where I get my strength but obviously I have no doubt already finished and I will not walk more.
"E gia fatta." Finished. I do not know whether to laugh or mourn. The organization gives us the damn medal which cost me 4 hours to get and then we put a thermal blanket over aluminum that gives a bad Rollet not see.
Water, Gatorade, apple, bag, hotel, shower. I'm torn, my brain only processes single words. No more sightseeing in the afternoon, just resting. "Just relax? Neither of these, sprint to catch the train to Fiumicino and finally to rest on the plane, in those low cost luxury aircraft. Back row, with all the warmth, the batteries wear out at all ... Bona nit!
0 comments:
Post a Comment