shereads
Sloganless
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2003
- Posts
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Entering Day 2 of the Women's Marathon. I've begun to despair of reaching the stadium before daybreak and the morning rush hour. The road was re-opened to automobile traffic six hours ago. So my final fifteen miles promise to be brutal, indeed.
So this is what they mean by "the loneliness of the long distance runner."
I've been alone out here since the mobile camera crew disappeared over the horizon, tracking that girl from Lichtenstein in the ankle brace. For an hour or two, it was just Lichstenstein and me. I took the lead when she stopped to adjust her bandage; the euphoria was brief but potent. Maybe it was even worth the years of training. I wasn't just a marathoner, my friends. I was running the original route from Marathon to Athens, and I was ahead of Lichstenstein! These are the moments that make competitive sports so addictive.
Then it hit me: I had to pee.
Why is it that my coaches, with all their talk about the importance of staying hydrated, never once mentioned the difficulty of finding a public restroom along this route? By the time I found one with toilet paper, Lichtenstein was just a dot on the horizon, her ankle brace glinting in the setting sun.
The crowd was still with me until dark; or at least I think they were. There was a lot of laughter, but the Greeks are cheerful folk so that's probably just their way of saying, "Go, American athlete! Let nothing deter you from finishing this race; not the darkness, or the threat of rush-hour traffic, or the fact that your flight home leaves in less than half a day!"
Thank you, people of Athens, for believing in me. Even though most of you went to bed hours ago, I know you're with me in spirit.
I need to pee again.
So this is what they mean by "the loneliness of the long distance runner."
I've been alone out here since the mobile camera crew disappeared over the horizon, tracking that girl from Lichtenstein in the ankle brace. For an hour or two, it was just Lichstenstein and me. I took the lead when she stopped to adjust her bandage; the euphoria was brief but potent. Maybe it was even worth the years of training. I wasn't just a marathoner, my friends. I was running the original route from Marathon to Athens, and I was ahead of Lichstenstein! These are the moments that make competitive sports so addictive.
Then it hit me: I had to pee.
Why is it that my coaches, with all their talk about the importance of staying hydrated, never once mentioned the difficulty of finding a public restroom along this route? By the time I found one with toilet paper, Lichtenstein was just a dot on the horizon, her ankle brace glinting in the setting sun.
The crowd was still with me until dark; or at least I think they were. There was a lot of laughter, but the Greeks are cheerful folk so that's probably just their way of saying, "Go, American athlete! Let nothing deter you from finishing this race; not the darkness, or the threat of rush-hour traffic, or the fact that your flight home leaves in less than half a day!"
Thank you, people of Athens, for believing in me. Even though most of you went to bed hours ago, I know you're with me in spirit.
I need to pee again.