Tomorrow it is off to the Colosseum, which I walked by this evening, and the Vatican later in the day. Buy a train ticket to Venice, and start eating lots of pasta!!
Off to Venice tomorrow morning by train. My eating habits are not exactly what they should be before a marathon, partly because I hate eating in restaurants and so have been snacking every now and then. On top of that, my feet are blistered after all the walking today. AND: Would you believe the ONLY rain in the forecast between now and Friday (when I leave) is...Sunday?! Argh! Anyway, pick up my race packet in Mestre tomorrow, head to the hotel, and sleep.
I now jaywalk with the best of them, by the way.
It's ironic that the most difficult part of getting from Fredericton to the start line was the last few kilometres. Trying to find a way to the shuttle buses that would take runners from Venice to the start line in Stra (just outside of Padua, about 40km west of Venice) was a major challenge. But things worked out, Italian style, and I arrived in Stra just as the time limit came up for dropping off bags in trucks that would deliver them to the finish line. What a mob. I didn't warm up - something I remember as being completely useless in the Reykjavik Marathon. 42.2km is enough. Instead, I waited by the start boxes until the last minute, wrapped in a plastic poncho to keep warm. The day was actually hazy, humid, and hot, which seems typical for Venice.
I didn't hear a gun or a horn, but at 9:20am we were off. My first thought when crossing the start line: "Oh God, here it comes." This is the first time I run a marathon and don't feel the elation at the start, only fear of what's coming. My legs were stiff from previous days walking, but otherwise I felt quite good. The first 5km were along villas and quiet village houses, quite pretty, really. It wasn't until after the 5th km that the fear and apprehension started to fade. In fact, after 5km I felt as if I was running downhill, even though the road was completely flat. I had a pacing chart strapped to my watch. It had the times for every km for a 4hr marathon. I think that chart was one of the key reasons why my motivation didn't crumble: at every single km mark, I had a good idea of how I was doing, and the marathon was no longer a huge 42km mountain, but something to be taken one km at a time. For the first 21km I hit almost every time right on the second (57min at 10km, 2hrs at 21.095km).
But as anyone who has ever run a marathon knows, the race doesn't really begin until the 21km mark. Anyone can get through that first half. But the body begins to move differently after 21km, and the mind follows. Plantar fasciitis crept into my left foot, a condition that causes the toes to curl under. For a while I ran as if I had a club foot, but it soon left. Then came hip pain that, on the contrary, got worse. I started to fall behind on my km timings, which in turn caused my to debate exactly what my goal was. Was it to run a 4hr marathon? That didn't look possible anymore. Was it to simply finish the marathon? I couldn't imagine myself quitting. As I struggled through kms 28 to 32, I decided that:
My first, most important objective was to finish with a modicum of dignity. No tears, no stopping out of despair.
My second goal was to run the entire length of the marathon. Unlike previous years, there would be no walking, not even when I was munching on my PowerBars. However, I could stop for a few seconds at each water station in order to drink.
The first test came around km 28. We had a stretch of several city blocks to run in Venice (mainland) where we would double back. Seeing runners going down the other side of the street in the opposite direction and wondering when, if ever, the turn-around point would come was hard. Sometime around km 30 my legs began to hurt, the horrible stiffness that accompanies you until the end, always worsening, and the one most important sign that you are now running something bigger than you. It's one of the symptoms I dread, because it tells me that I can no longer sprint or run freely. Every step afterward becomes a battle.
Km 32 was reserved for Uncle Bob. It's the first of the final ten kilometres, and what is for me the real race. We climbed a long, steep hill onto the causeway between Venice Mainland and Venice Lido. I had the sweet pleasure of passing everyone in that hill. (Thank God for hill workouts; they're worth the pain.) The causeway itself is over 5km and is a challenge simply out of sheer boredom. Run in a straight line for 5km with no view (too much haze), and lots of traffic and busses and trains, and your motivation will take a dive. But marathons aren't about motivation, they're about perseverance. By now my legs were truly hurting. Worst of all, an old injury in my right knee, probably reacting to the pain in my hip, began to flare up. Stopping at a water station to stretch my hamstrings and quads helped, but at the same time I knew I was falling behind.
Venice Lido arrived somewhere after km 37. As we ran through the port, I moved into another mental gear. "Just tough it out, Helen, just keep moving at this one pace. You've got 5km left." Most people were alternating between walking and runnning by this point. Staying at a running pace gave me some sort of feeling of accomplishment, that all my training had indeed paid off. We were out of the industrial part of Venice Lido just after the 39km mark, not long after the last water stop. The view was inspiring. It also came with the first of 13 bridges to cross over the canals. I had been thinking about these bridges for quite a while, but they were much easier than I had ever expected. The organizers had built ramps on both sides of them so that runners didn't have to hop up the steps. And, of course, I could really fly by people on those ramps. But going down was agony for my knee.
Suddenly I caught a sign off to my right: 40km!!! I could allow myself to believe that I really, actually could finish! It was almost over. We crossed the Grand Canal on a floating bridge, a long series of wide planks laid across several barges tied up together. Then the course became packed with spectators and tourists. We were very near the heart of Venice and there were thousands of people about. What a rush it is to hear them cheering.
I never saw the markers for kms 41 and 42, but going down one bridge the course opened up from a width of 5m to over 100m, and the finish line was only a long dash away. I couldn't believe it. It was right there. I started to run stronger, almost crying, not believing that ten months of training and dreaming were coming to this.
The clock read 4:16 when I crossed it. My real time was probably around 4:13 (it took three minutes for me to reach the start line after the official start.) I had stopped timing at one point when I need to get in line to use the washroom; my watch says 4:07. Once again, I fell short of a 4hr marathon. But I now at least have a respectable "best time."
There are in quite a few victories to celebrate today. The first is sticking to my training, thinking of this marathon, not for a few days or weeks, but for almost a year. There's the victory of running for the entire length of the marathon. I can actually say I run marathons. I can run 42.2km and not walk once. And the victory of improvement: I did better than last year. What can I do next year?
This photo was taken not long after crossing the floating bridge. I thought by then that I had caught sight of the finish line - you can tell by the fixed look on my face.
Right beside the Piazze San Marco and the Palazzo Ducale - in other words, the heart of Venice. To my right is the water. The size of the crowd is typical of the final 5 km.
My favourite picture. I'm not sure where on the course it was taken, but I do know that it was in the final two or three kilometres. Even so, I don't look like I've been slogging it in humid weather for the past four hours. In fact, I look incredibly inspired!
OK, so the inspiration was short-lived. This is not long after the Piazza San Marco, and I have a (momentary) lapse of fortitude.
Ignore that grimace on my face. I'm in fact in a state of euphoria! Strangely enough, I can't remember finishing with all those runners around me. All I remember is descending the last bridge (you can see it in the background), the course opening up, and trying to sprint to the finish. World War III could have started at that moment and I don't think I would have noticed.
Today was for walking around and losing myself in this incredible city. As I did so the extent of the phenomenal organization behind yesterday's marathon began to dawn on me. The event organizers not only ramped thirteen bridges in the most tourist-packed area of the city, they also stopped traffic on the busy Grand Canal for over six hours so that runners could cross. Unlike other marathons, this one provided shuttles after the marathon back to the start line or the train station, and runners got their personal bags back within minutes of finishing (you normally have to go on a terrible hunt through the finish area to locate your bag - which has been left unguarded in a heap in a remote corner.) Fruit, water, Gatorade, and cookies were provided at every single 5km station along the course. And all this was done on the day after clocks fell back an hour for Daylight Savings Time. If there are any runners reading this, the Venice Marathon comes highly recommended.
And another great BIG thank you to all those who emailed your support and cheers both before and after the marathon. Those messages have meant the world to me; they are a large part of the reason why I kept running yesterday when everyone around me was walking and I wanted nothing more than to join them. Keeping this log has been an inspiration to my running and made me see my third year of training and travelling through a new perspective. Checking out today's Thought of the Day ("The mode by which the inevitable comes to pass is effort." - Oliver Wendell Holmes) as well as the Meditation ("Sweet are the uses of adversity." - Shakespeare), both pages seem particularly apt for describing the entire experience.
Venice is truly extraordinary. Much like China, the feel of it and the mentality behind it are simply impossible to imagine until you've been here. Simply walking around is an attraction. You must accept that you are lost the minute you step out of the hostel. Maps are of no use. I wandered around for most of the day, and toured the two main attractions, Piazza San Marco and Basilica di San Marco. (In case you didn't know, Marco Polo was from Venice. And Venice makes sure you don't forget that.) And now, off for more pasta!
^Tis chilly here in Zurich, but otherwise I feel as if I never ran a marathon. My legs have completelz recovered!! However, I`m amazed I can walk at all with all the pasticceri (Italian pastries) I`ve been eating. A diet will be a prioritz upon returning home.
Home is in fact where I`ll be at this time tomorrow. That means the end of this travel journal, and a two month hiatus for the Running Journal as well. I^ll still be working on the site from time to time - I^ve got lots of ideas and stuff to add. But until the next New Year^s Resolution I won^t be updating the Running Journal. Thanks again for all the support throughout the trip. It`s been a special voyage thanks to all of you.
Venice Photos...Er, Postcards
This photo is taken on one of the most well-known bridges in Venice (and one of the last ones we cross in the marathon), located right beside the Palazzo Ducale. In fact, the brown building on the very left is the Palazzo, and the little covered bridge adjacent to it is the Bridge of Sighs. That particular bridge joins the Palazzo, where Venice's trials were held, to the Venice prison on the right. As convicted prisoners were led across the little covered bridge from the court to the prison, they sighed as they viewed Venice for one last time through the bridge's barred windows, hence the name "Bridge of Sighs."
I chose this postcard because it gives a fairly good idea of the marathon's final kilometre. The finish line was up in the top right-hand corner, at the beginning of the forested section. The bottom is the Basilica di San Marco and the Palazzo Ducale. Runners crossed the Grand Canal, landed just before these buildings (bottom right corner), then proceeded up along the wide waterfront, crossing four more bridges. The marathon course itself was barricaded, and thousands (really, I'm not exaggerating) of cheering and screaming spectators lined the way from the Palazzo to the finish. Wow, what a memory. I want to go running now.
Another postcard of a bridge. It may seem as if I'm making a big deal out of these bridges (I am), but running over no less than thirteen of these after 42.2km leaves quite an impression. The marathon organizers had built long, incredibly sturdy ramps on both sides of each bridge for runners and wheelchair participants. Maybe one of the reasons why I'm so fixated on the bridges is because I did so well on them, sprinting up without really feeling the effort. Well, by that time I wasn't feeling much anyway!
