Were I to have run this race in a costume, I’d have dressed as the Tin Man. I just had no heart on this run… and when you run with no heart, it’s a rough, rough day.
It was a peaceful, quiet race in the beautiful Austrian countryside. Normally I enjoy these kinds of races, just me and the road and a few other runners usually passing me by like gazelles on the African plains. But I’ve been a little too much in my head lately, a stranger in Europe who never mastered his native language let alone any others. As a result, while conversations fly over my head in a buzz, I’ve wandered about my memory palace, pulling out dusty items that should have remained in a drawer, opening cobwebbed treasure chests to reveal lead not gold inside. I’ve spenta too much time amongst my thoughts of late.
So it was that I could’ve used a bit more crowd support and cheering to bring me back to the race proper. Those few who braved the grey skies and intermittent drizzle were much appreciated, as were the self-sacrificing volunteers manning the numerous aid stations.
But even these folks I couldn’t tell if I was saying the right thing. I tried “dunke” repeatedly but it always seemed to elicit a laugh, like I’d pulled a JFK and instead of saying what I wanted to say I was saying “jelly donut” or an equivalent in German.
The rain also made taking photos a bit of a challenge, my phone repeatedly refusing to unlock to access the camera app. So there aren’t a lot of pics today, and what few there are may be water logged blurry. But I’ll put some up here in a moment anyway – it’s an easy way to fill out the blog without having to write as much, the photos hopefully worth a couple of words at least.
While running and occasionally thinking what I might write to recap today, I realized this may have grown tiresome for long time readers. I go to a race, I run it and take some photos, I lament my lack of grace both on the course and in travels, and then… repeat. I make references to only about ten literary or filmic sources; I tell the same stories — seriously, how many times have I told you about the “last” hostel in Paris or the coffee cup principle when falling, or that time I met Jeff Goldblum?
Posts often play like sequels that remake the original, aping what might have worked before but not exactly breaking new ground. Or maybe they’re like a sitcom that tells a story only to bring everything back to the same point, the homeostasis of the narrative, so that the next episode could be watched out of sequence without any trouble for new viewers, or as comfort food for long time fans.
As a result, while I will post a bunch of pics shortly, I thought I’d start with this one. This is Ashley, an American originally from Newton, MA, then DC, and for the last year here in Vienna with her husband and three small children.
It was a joy to hear English and to commiserate with a fellow runner about the at times baffling directions for train travel and pre-race logistics. And I thought maybe rather than just telling my story which is, to borrow another Stephen King-ism after the memory palace, SSDD – same sh!t, different day. So here’s a little back story on Ashley, who I hope had a great race. I’ll check her results later.
This was going to be her first marathon after having her kids. She has two boys and a girl, ages 3, 2, and 1. They came to a race she did earlier in the year to cheer her on and her husband described it as a bit of a juggling act, reassuring the kids that mommy was coming… trying to check her location… and then telling the kids she was on her way. When she did get there, the kids were upset she was leaving again… but she had to finish the race. So today, Daddy was taking the kids to the park and they were going to do their usual Sunday while Mommy got a little “me” time.
Ashley asked me how many marathons I had done and I hesitated, saying sheepishly, “well, I run a lot…”. She said, “oh, come on… you know you know the number. It’s double digits isn’t it?” I think I might have blushed with embarrassment and said, “well, yeah… it’s, uh, actually, this is 404.” She was taken aback, but in a good way. Said I should be announcing that with pride. I told her what I always tell people – I’ve been very lucky and to me though I’m always impressed with whatever people are doing on the day. As I have often said here and to others in person, there’s nothing quite like a running race because everybody, runners, supporters, volunteers, police, fire, first responders, everybody on that day just wants you to have the best day you can. I have always felt that, and I always will. It’s the high I get from running these things and it’s why I’m addicted and keep pounding the pavement, even when I’m dog-tired (no pun intended, I literally mean Momo at my AirBNB kept me up most of the night).
Ashley asked me if I had a blog and I told her. So if you’re reading this, Ashley, congratulations on your run. I wish you and your husband and kids a great year ahead here in Vienna and wherever the next place is I hope it’s filled with adventures, fun, and good running trails. Pleasure chatting with you.
And so as I type this on my phone riding the weasel train (?!) back to Vienna, the sun is just coming out. Could’ve used you at the 30k mark, buddy, but I’m still glad to see ya.
As tomorrow is a long travel day up to Denmark and I’m not sure there’ll be much outside of, “So here I am again at an airport…” I thought I might save The Wachau Marathon Photo Gallery for then.
Besides, my heart’s just not in it at the moment.