So the cats are moping (they're off to the vet until I return) and I know I'll miss them terribly. But as Mark Twain says, now is the time to "throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." So here's to the power of dreaming.
Today has been a tentative exploration of the city. We walked through crowded market streets, watched the changing of the guard at the Parliament, and got our race kits. On our way to the hotel that had the race kits, I tripped and badly twisted my left ankle (Mom, get out the lampions - it looks like I'm going to need them!) I've iced it, but....Cross my fingers. I'm here in Athens with my sweetie, and we're about to run a marathon. Things are great.
First, let me make a special note about last night's Pasta Party at the luxurious five star Caravel Hotel, the host hotel for the marathon. We got there on time, but we had forgotten that in Greece, things run a little behind. When the pasta did make it out, the party turned into a panic. It's something else to watch grown men just about clambering over each other just for a plate of spaghetti. You had to be there.
We were up at 4:30 this morning. I had expected deserted streets when we left the hotel. Uh, not quite. We had to mingle with the crowds of evening revellers as we walked up Ermou Street (with a stop at McDonald's for coffee) to Panathinaiko Stadium. Within ten minutes we were on a bus to Athens and my nerves were wide awake. The ankle I had twisted yesterday, as well as lingering pain in the left knee, made me start to doubt myself. Then the added anxiety about the course - knowing what pain would soon be coming. It's funny how I can run for four hours in Fredericton and, though tired, I never feel quite as terrible as I do at the halfway point of the real marathon. Remembering previous marathons wasn't exactly inspiring me at the moment. Instead, I was even more nervous. My knees were shaking at the start, my stomach was upset, and I had to keep looking around and telling myself, "This is it. This is THE marathon. I've made it this far." Watching everyone else didn't help. At least in other running events there's always a majority of amateurs who look like they're out for a nice 5km stroll. But this time there are people really dressed up and ready to go. I spot a few women dressed in bikini shorts and sports tops - the Bikini Babes - looking so great and athletic. Ugh, how's that for a start? There was no start horn. Some balloons went up in the air at the front of the crowd, and we were off.
The sun is up and the day looks like it's going to be hot and dry with a good headwind. OK, we're doing better than Venice (no humidity.) Right away I start measuring my stride and cutting back. I didn't suffer seven hours in the half-Ironman triathlon to have forgotten the virtues of pacing so soon. Pace, pace, pace. That's what will get me up those hills - assuming I get that far. I also know that heat will be a serious factor at the end. The crowd thins out remarkably quickly. I also start taking stock of every joint and ache and figure out how I'll manage this run. My pacing sheet comes in really handy. It's a nice surprise to pass a kilometre marker and see that I'm doing better than I had thought. But I'm also not pushing myself like I did in Venice, and I don't have the weather of Iceland to deal with.
We run by the Tomb of the Marathon warriors. I can't believe it: we've only been running for 45 minutes, and the temperature has already climbed dramatically. Pace, pace, pace. No matter how many people pass me, I know the sweetest revenge comes in passing them at the end. My stomach begins to get worse. By kilometre 8, I'm starting to look for toilets. By kilometre 10, I'm checking out the woods. The cramps are cutting my breath off. I really don't know how to deal with this, even though there are lots of times in Fredericton when I've run through some sort of sickness. There just weren't 2500 people around. Relief comes sometime around kilometre 15. A porta-potti! I have to wait while someone finishes up inside. When I leave, I feel like a new woman. My sweetie has gone on ahead. By kilometre 17, I have to use the toilet again. It seems to be worse this time, but I don't have to go very far - there's a toilet just behind the next aid station. I dash in, dash out.
When I rejoin the crowd, I start to rethink my goals. A 4:10 marathon (my goal) is clearly out of the question. Somehow I never really get a chance to decide what my goal should be, because the hills have begun. The first rise makes everone uncomfortable. It's steep, there's no shade, and we have been going up a very slight incline for awhile. My hip has been nagging me for a few kilometres too, but now my knee joins in. Those two on top of the upset stoamch and twisted ankle form a huge obstacle - and I haven't even started The Hill yet. OK, I'll settle for just finishing the marathon. There's a bit of up and down to the course, never enough to rest, though. One aid station has run out of Powerade. Then The Hill begins.
The Hill is over ten kilometres long. It also gets steeper as it goes on. And the sun is out. Oh, and my joints hurt and I'm looking for another toilet. But somehow passing the 21.1 km mark - the halfway point - I'm dealing with it all. I've made it halfway, and I'm not running hard like I was in Venice. In fact, things are starting to feel pretty good (mostly because I can't feel anything from the waist down any more.) There's a huge crowd at the 21.1km mark, drop-outs looking for a bus to the finish. Suddenly I'm inspired. Hey, they all look young and incredibly lean and fit. And they're not tough enough for this course! Ah, I feel so good. Another boost two kilometres down the road, when the Bikini Babes, who have dropped out and are walking back to a bus. They look mad and defeated. I'm feeling soooooo good. This is a done deal.
Kilometres 25 to 29 are always rough. There the beginning of the soreness and the hurt, the legs that feel so thick and heavy. You wonder where in the world that came from, because no matter how long or hard you ran at home, you NEVER had that feeling. How do you deal with it? What game do you get your mind to play to get to the end? In my case, I simply tell myself that these are the easy miles. The tough ones start at 32km, so I really should enjoy these while they last. The Hill is relentless and the grade is getting worse. My stride is about a foot long, but I'm running and I'm amazed and happy that I'm here in Athens actually doing a marathon. That's all that counts.
Somewhere around kilometre 29, I look up and shake my head because I'm not quite sure what I see. Uh, my sweetie is running just ahead of me. Actually no, he's NOT running - he's walking! Even though I've stopped four times for the washroom so far, I've actually managed to catch up to him! This is not good. I pick up the pace as much as I dare in this hill and run up alongside him. I like to run alone, but this situation calls for emergency measures. He has a familiar look when I catch up to him. It's the one I was wearing in my first marathon in Toronto four years ago, when that innocence about running marathons came crashing down.
Marathons are hard in a way that you just don't know until you've been there, and you can explain this to people who have never run this and think in the back of your mind, "You don't have a clue what I'm talking about." There's a superb article that once came out in The Globe and Mail called Why Run in which the reader, a regular person likes me who runs marathons as hobby, tries to answer the question, Why do we run if we're not running to be first? The answer is to somehow put ourself in the most challenging situation we know, and then see how our spirit measures up. To rise above everyday life. And as The Hill gets tougher and my joints hurt more, I find myself almost enjoying the whole thing because I know this is what I'm running for. But....that realisation and that attitude only came after hitting the wall in Toronto. My sweetie is fighting his own battle and I'm not quite sure what to do. Well, I have nothing to lose by slowing down because I stopped timing myself a ways back. And I know from having run these miles in pain and trying not to cry that just having a person beside me for some unknown reason makes the marathon seem more achievable. So we slow down and I make sure to keep my mouth shut.
We're in the worst of The Hill now. The heat is tough. The smog from the traffic is also starting to bother my tonsils. Slow down, pace, pace, pace. Suddenly I look back and realise that The Hill is over! We hit the 32 kilometre mark and it's all downhill from here! Not really. Kilometre 32 is the beginning of an entirely different race. But I muster every positive thought I've got to get by this. Sweet relief when kilometre 37 passes. I've always thought of it as the beginning of the end. Yhose last five kilometres are almost trivial compared to the 37 I've just run. I like picking the pace up now. I like running faster and discovering that the slow pace earlier on really was worth while. I can go faster and keep that speed. At kilometre 39 I want to run. At kilometre 40, I start smiling. At kilometre 41, I'm euphoric. My smile goes from one ear to the other, and people are cheering everywhere. Here I am, running in THE marathon, about to enter the original Olympic Stadium. I don't want to ruin this one chance I've got - I never want to look back on this last distance and think, "I could have run harder." So I sprint from kilometre 41 onwards. For the first time in my life, I pass everyone (which should tell you how far back in the crowd I was!) Then at the entrace to the Stadium, I push myself that one last bit until my lungs can't keep up. A huge cheer goes up on one side of the stadium. I like to think it's because people saw me sprinting by everyone, but it could have been someone else. What a thrill. And, as Zapotek said, what an experience. I waited for another minute just behind the finish line to cheer my sweetie on. His face was pretty grim, but he responded to my arm-waving and jumping up and down and made it across the finish.
So this is it. I think I finished around 4:45. It was my slowest marathon ever, but it was also one incredibly positive experience. It's like someone handed you a certificate saying "Can face tough challenges", which is why I run.
Today was Dive In to Greece Day. We checked out the Acropolis after clambering through quiet, cosy Athenian streets. It's an awesome experience: this is the representation of the foundation of our society. The view (and the smog) of Athens was great. What a sprawling city. It's like an infection of concrete spreading over the valley. We left for a lovely lunch at the foot of the Acropolis. My sweetie did the Greek thing: tzatziki and dolmades. Then we strolled to the Temple of Olympic Zeus (Jupiter, if you're Roman.) It used to be the largest temple in Classical times. "Large" is putting it mildly (see photo below). We finished the day at the Agora, the ancient administrative centre of Athens, after getting lost in a little park in search of the cell Socrates was held in during his trial (see the photo below of me standing on the corner of the court where Socrates' trial was held). Tickets for the ferry tomorrow, a supper at an outdoor taverna, and that was it. Only about 20km of walking!
Photo of the delightful Hotel Anna:
After breakfast we wandered down to the main pedestrian walkway in search of coffee. I tried a Greek coffee and nearly had a heart attack. Greek coffees come in very small cups and are have the grounds in them - about half of the cup! It was like drinking very good coffee-flavoured mud. Afterwards we strolled to the ruins of the abandoned Temple of Apollo at the very edge of the harbour at the end of a causeway. Two dogs followed us there and seemed to stay with us all morning. The temple was abandoned in 500BC after Athens turned to democracy. It still boggles my mind that I can see and touch something so old. We walked back into town and stopped in the tourist information office that was open for the first time since we had arrived on the island, inquired about renting a car, and within two hours we were off to the interior of the island. For pictures, try here. The road went up and up and up and we stopped for lunch at a fantastic little taverna on the side of a cliff outside of the village of Ana Potomai. It was a truly amazing experience. The village itself was like a storybook with its narrow alleys and steps, white houses, flowers and, of course, cats. Back on the road to complete a loop through the interior of the island. The mountains resemble Iceland and there are white churches on top of crests everywhere. My sweetie drove back down the hairpin curves and narrow roads and back to Naxos. Tomorrow we hope to check out the coastal road, then it's off to Santorini Island at 12:45pm.
A stunning thousand years old church we saw on today's drive:
Our ferry was supposed to arrive at 12:45am, but we found ourselves the only ones at the port until another Canadian couple showed up. Their trip was almost over and they told us where to go and stay in Santorini. The wind and waves were absolutely wild, so the ferries were well over an hour late (welcome to Greece!). Watching them dock was incredible: they had to turn broadside to the wind, back up, then lower then gangplank onto a narrow pier. We said goodbye to the Canadian couple and boarded the Daedalus to Santorini. The swells were immense but the ship was so big we felt very little. Three hours later we sailed into Santorini. The island is the rim of an ancient volcano that erupted then collapsed on itself, taking a Minoan city with it. Today's towns and villages are perched high on the rim and you sail straight into the walls of the volcano, called the caldera. The view is out of this world, and the water is so incredibly blue. When it churns, it doesn't appear with green or brown tinges as it does in North America, but with even bluer shades.
Once out of the boat, we went hunting for the bus to take us to Fira. Not a single local knew anything about the bus (typical Greek answer - it's rather funny!). The Canadian couple had recommended the Pension Petras, so we took a taxi (another ferry was right behind us and we wanted to get there before other people did) from a nice taxi driver who gave us a bit of an explanation as we went up hairpin after hairpin up a sheer cliff over a kilometre high. We met Petros himself at the Pension.
Although we've only just arrived, I'm not too sure I'm really crazy about Santorini. It's very touristy, in a rich-people way. I rather liked the hustle and bustle craziness of Naxos and Athens. But we're off to see some incredible ruins tomorrow (over 4000 years old!!), and hopefully some beaches (although nasty weather is in the forecast.) Santorini description
The old castle we found in the middle of a field during our drive around Naxos:
A hike up to the seemingly abandoned village, then lunch at a small taverna. The place was deserted (as are most of the islands now that the tourists are gone.) We ran back down to catch the bus, and spent the rest of the day walking around Fira, mostly along the small cobble-stoned road that follows the rim of the caldera. Even got to see the sun set!
Photos from our walk along the caldera:
The town of Fira seems deserted tonight. We really had to hunt around for a place to eat. Most shops closed early. It's odd to walk around such a famous town and not see anyone. Lots of friendly cats, though! I think my sweetie's patience with me is being tested as I stop to pet each cat. Tomorrow we take the ferry back to Athens. I'll definitely miss the hospitality of Santorini.
Photos from Akrotiri and the Cycladic Museum:
Now back in Athens at the great Attalos Hotel - this time with our own balcony! We're hoping to squeeze in a day trip to Delphi tomorrow.
We returned to the photo shop in the afternoon after adventures in making calls in Greece (a hotel clerk finally dialled the number for us!) My sweetie had no less than five photos of him, whereas I had two: one with him around km37, and the other at the finish. But the finish photo is pretty great - even the sales lady laughed when she saw it. I have a HUGE smile on my face as I cross the finish line. I'll scan the photos and upload when we return home.
We spent the evening walking quietly through the Plaka district and buying little souvenirs for everyone. It's a truly lovely part of Athens, and a fantastic way to leave the city. Supper was in a cozy creperie with a real fire burning in the hearth and candles at each table. We capped it all off with a glass of wine on our little balcony at the Attalos, the Parthenon behind us.
A view of the lovely pedestrian street we walk down every evening:
What a way to end the trip! We're now not just world travellers, but world runners as well! I'm not sure if I consider this a hugely successful trip, at least not like Venice was. I think that was largely the result of focusing more on triathlon training rather than on marathon training: not enough speed workouts, mostly. I've also realised that I find triathlons more challenging than marathons. A triathlon has the added strategic and logistical edge to it, as well as more technique and pacing. Something to consider for next year's goals, anyway.
