I ran my first marathon today, and around mile 24, I also thought it would be my last. However, like most strenuous physical activity, as soon as I crossed the finish line, I was planning how to do it better, faster, and stronger.
Running in Ecuador has been an adventure worthy of a low budget, made-for-television, motion picture. With the help of some marathon masters from home, I somehow squeezed 18 weeks of marathon training into 5, and prepared to run for about 4 hours in Quito, the second highest capital in the world.
I was very fortunate to meet up Friday night in Quito, and stay with two other Peace Corps marathoners. Kristen and Lindsay are super volunteers – they actually signed up for a third year of service, and great people to hangout with under the impending weight of a marathon. I am very gracious for their hospitality, hunger for baked goods, and humor.
We woke up this morning at four to make it to the starting line by five, for the five-thirty start. A small bowl of oatmeal, two oritos – mini bananas, and a sip of water later, I was off to the San Francisco church starting line. It was a chilly morning – perfect New England running temperature – and we were sent off with a blaze of fireworks, followed by the Ecuadorian national anthem. Running in the pre-dawn darkness is one of my favorite things to do in Ecuador, and I could finally do it without looking crazy – well, looking crazy along with 300 other people.
The first half of the race flew by, but by the third lap of the Parque Carolina, I felt like I was about to celebrate my 125th birthday. My right quad cramped up so bad I could see my muscle flexing like Arnold in pumping iron – it is the movie about bodybuilding – and I had to get the Gatorade guy to help me lift my foot to stretch my leg. As funny as it probably looked from the comfort of the taxi guy’s drivers seat, I was beginning to wonder how I was going to finish the race.
It turns out my parents, Miss Wiernas (first grade teacher), Miss Lyzack (second grade teacher), and that testudinidae from the tortoise and hare story, all lied to me; slow and steady does not win the race – it just gets you across the finish line. As I lay in the grass, looking up at the clouds above Quito, I reflected on my 26.2 miles road, and my five-ish months in Ecuador; a slow and steady pace will get me to the finish line, but a strong and sustainable pace will bring the trophy home to the jungle.
