Going the Distance

I ran a half marathon last Sunday. My goal of racing in each country I visit is getting satisfied, now with t-shirts from Barcelona and Santiago as proof. Unfortunately, the experience was just ok. Here is the story…

One week before the race, I came down with a soar throat, which led to a runny nose and cough. I took a day off from work and a couple days off from running in hopes of beating it in time for the race. The symptoms seemed to wane as the week progressed, but they did not fully disappear. Stubborn as I am, however, I wasn’t going to let a mere cold keep me from running. On Saturday, the evening for the race, I took a bus to the other side of town where the runner’s exposition was being held. I don’t know what my luck is with busses, but when I boarded, there was a horrific high-pitched noise. No one else seemed alarmed by it, but it certainly wasn’t normal. Nonetheless, the driver kept driving as if nothing was wrong. But then, at some seemingly arbitrary time, he pulled over, grabbed a jug of water, and walked to the back of the bus. A minute later, the screeching stopped, and the driver returned with an empty jug. I couldn’t help but wonder why he had gone so long with such a horrible noise. And, of course, “what if???”

As the Santiago International Marathon, with 23 countries represented, over 500 participants in the marathon and over 300 in the half, the race exposition was a pretty big event. I picked up my race packet and stood in line for the pasta dinner. The blue eyes of the guy in front of me gave away that he was also a foreigner, so when he asked if I spoke English, I wasn’t surprised. He said my Teva sandals gave me away. Turns out he and his family moved to Santiago recently because of job relocation. We sat down and talked as we ate. I pulled out my liter Nalgene bottle – trying to stay well-hydrated, and he said that also gave me away as a foreigner.

The next morning, I arrived at Parque O’Higgins at 6:45am, having taken an expensive taxi because there were no other means of transportation at that hour on a Sunday. As I warmed up, I witness a vibrant sunrise over the Andes. The race started on time at 8:00am, despite the Chilean reputation for lateness. I ran through parts of the city I had seen before and others that I hadn’t. While running through the city center, a few people were on the streets – likely partiers that hadn’t slept a wink. I didn’t feel well even from the start, so by the finish, I was taxed. A couple ladies from work came to watch me finish, so that was nice support. But, as I boarded the Metro to make my way home, I started feeling dizzy, and I think I was running a fever. A crowded train meant that I sat on the floor – no, I was not doing well at this point, and I was wishing my friend Elisa was there, as she had been at my last two races in Boston and Sacramento. As I sat there, my head in my hands, a woman boarded and stood right in front of me so that when I lifted my head, her “poto” was only a few inches from my faces. I put my head back down; I felt better that way anyway. When I finally made it home, I took something to reduce my fever, and I went to sleep.

I have since improved in health – little by little. I looked up my results on the internet. I ended up taking 10th place out of about 70 women. My time was disappointing, and the time I was aiming for would have won me the race. Oh well, another race awaits me in New Zealand.