reflections

For a brief moment this last Sunday morning, marathon runners assumed our rightful place in the hierarchy of things. At least in Melbourne, or to be precise around the MCG and 40 kilometres of bayside roads, we were kings: the idols of small children and objects of awe and stunned respect for one and all.

In short - the world was as it should be.

Tragically, it didn’t last. Even yesterday, when the pain was still very real, interest was fading fast.

Let me give you some examples:

• “So how long was the marathon?” Words cannot express how irritating this question is. Just in case someone happens to be googling this question let me answer it once and for all. IF IT’S NOT 42.195KM IT’S NOT A MARATHON
• The people at my office decided it was an excellent time to have a fire drill yesterday morning. Walking down 20 floors worth of stairs was not appreciated. Trust me.
• The local fish and chip shop was shut last night. If a man can’t have a good oily fish and chip and/or potato cake after running a marathon, what’s the world coming to?

People just ain’t got no consideration, I tell you.

I’ve had a chance to click around the various blogs and forums in the last 24 hours. Looks like a mix of results.

• Steve, who I saw at the start, had a pretty ordinary time by the sounds of it.
• Andrew had a tough introduction to the marathon world.
• Em seems disappointed with her 10k, but is typically planning to work harder than humanly possible and will no doubt break some sort of world record in 12 months time.
• Clarkey did a pretty spot-on job leading the 3:30 bus, as expected.
• Tiger Boy seems disappointed with his effort, and has done some soul searching on the Ausrun forum.

It’s a cruel sport, this marathoning. I’ve been lucky with my 3, aside from an encounter with the wall in 2005. When things go well, like last Sunday, the race seems to pass quite quickly, but if you have a problem it can be a long, long, hard race. It can take a lot of persistence and courage to finish the thing.