I have run an awful lot of marathons in my life, but this was the first time I'd ever started a race in so much rain. Rain has its particular challenges, like massive weight gain in your clothing.
45 degrees at the start, and pouring through the first 8 miles of a 13.1-mile race.
I liked it.
Most marathoners have had this experience, too. Here is what happened: At the finish of the race, I went back to my car so I could get out of my soaking wet clothes. I didn't even realize this had happened, but when I took my shoes off, both my feet were covered in blood. The rain had caused the tops of my shoes to cut into my ankles, and my sodden socks were completely red. I never even felt it until after the race was over.
That was cool.
I kind of felt guilty that I did not sign up for the full marathon.
Maybe next year.
It has been a very weird week in my life.
I will tell you about it in a week or so.
4 comments:
I particularly love those moments when I find blood and discover I have a gnarly wound that I never felt. Well, except when I am working and I discover the wound as I am about to bring plates out to a table of six.
I like mild wounds. Is that odd?
(About a zillion years ago) I ran a 10 miler and it didn't rain, but I had something similar happen in that a blister formed and then tore. I barely felt it during the race, but after? Holy crap. It hurt.
First of all, that is so fucking bad ass my image of you as a wise old Osensei whose profound spiritual power comes only from his strength of will has now been expanded.
More on that next week.
Seriously though? Running with lacerated ankles? The Kenyans ain't got shit on that.
Secondly, can we please talk about something sensible around here? Like marathon length bouts of sleep deprivation in which disco naps begin to occur? I know you can run forever, but I bet I can stay awake longer than you.
Yes, I mean without peyote, psilosycbin, or lysergic acid diethylmide.
Bleeding for life and art. There will always be blood.
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