I just received an email from the official race photographers that the photos they snapped of me are available for purchase. As is typical, I photograph about like I run – awkwardly yet repeatedly.
I think I have enough shots below as it is. Not much to say here other than to point out how sad I was when the rain came. I was having a rare good hair day and then… pffftz. I look like Judge Doom at the end of Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (1988).
But I digress.
As I try and document the running experience here, perhaps to a nauseatingly minute degree, I’ll include the expo, the pasta dinner, the race, and the gala celebration. Think of scrolling through this flabby presentation as your own test of endurance.
Part I: The Expo
Originally I was going to compare the expo layout to Daedalus’ Labyrinth… but then I realized there was only one way through the vendors, but with all the twists and turns it felt like you were lost in a maze. So instead, I’ll just say it was like running a gauntlet, only instead of big giant red balls swinging in to hit you like on Wipeout or American Gladiators, hawkers would thrust flyers at you. This is par for the course, of course (get it? Course? Like running! Except in this case, it’s a reference to golf… so as usual the joke is lost on my poor telling). But here the added challenge was everything was in Greek.
***
Part II: The Pre-Race Orientation and Pasta Dinner
If this was your first marathon, or your first international marathon, Apostolos did everything they could to walk you through the details and reassure you at the mandatory pre-race orientation. I found myself drifting off a bit as I try and never gear check as it’s just cumbersome and I felt like I had the logistics clear in my head from a bus tour that pointed out various meeting points (basically, after exiting the finisher’s chute we should look for the big giant statue with an Apostolos Greek Tour tent by it — check). As I think I said in the quick summary, the “pep talk” that had the guy saying he would never run this marathon caught my ear. And again, maybe that was his point.. but I don’t think so. I think literally he wouldn’t choose to run this race. Huh.
***
Part III: The Race Itself
The race starts in Marathon and ends in Athens. I didn’t realize the name Marathon actually comes from the plant called that that grows in that area. But apparently, yeah… maybe that’s why we say things like, “Why don’t you make like a tree and get out of here.”
I was able to catch up with my Dubai pal Reda at the Olympic Flame which was doubly great. We snagged selfies holding the torch for the modern Olympic Games. But I have to say, the pre-race staging area was kind of bonkers. Swarms of people everywhere, both too tightly packed together and yet spread out enough that you couldn’t tell if you were missing something on the other side that you should see. I kinda wish I had found the Museum of the Marathon Run that I saw advertised but maybe it wasn’t open that day. Closed because we were living it, yeah?
***
Part IV: The Gala Dinner
It was a hard fought day — the race organizers themselves had a number of medical emergencies. Amongst our group, we had three people needing wheelchairs to exit the finish and one of those went to the hospital for followup examination. Humidity plus hills can be a dangerous combination indeed.
Everybody checked out fine in the end but some dehydration issues meant more than a few folks didn’t make it down to the Gala Dinner that evening. Which is a shame as they missed bottomless glasses of wine (Danger, Danger, Kevin Hanna!) and Greek dancing… including a special tribute to Zorba. Now is the time in Greece when we dance.
As is often the case with me, free booze had me sticking around until they swept the floors and turned out the lights… and even then I had one more bite of baklava before leaving.