The 2010 NYC Marathon was a lot of fun. My favorite marathon. I had friends and family cheering me on and a girlfriend waiting for me at the end. It was communal effort. The marathon in Italy was the polar opposite. I was all alone. From the minute I stepped off the plane to the starting line it was all me. I felt like Rocky in Rocky IV. Stranger in a strange land. I had no idea what was in store for me in Italy. Everything was a surprise. I remember jogging past vineyards, train tracks and farmhouses. I didn't know the language. Hell, I didn't even know the mileage. 42 kms sounds a bit more bad ass than 26.2 miles. I had to prepare differently for the Italy marathon. I knew I would be all alone this time, but I didn't know if there would be as many water stations (there weren't) or if they had any Gatorade (they didn't). I went through long stretches of training where I wouldn't drink anything for 5 or 6 miles. It's a good thing I did because I would have been defeated after the first 3 miles and no water in sight.
There were stretches of the marathon where no one was around. It was silent except for my sneakers hitting the pavement. In those quiet moments I tried to look around as much as possible. Sometimes the moments that mean the most to you are the ones that you feel helpless in. Somewhere in between Modena and Carpi on the side of the road I was defeated. My foot was swelling up, I was hungry and water was nowhere to be found. I started to lose it. My brain was just not all there. It was in that moment I let out a loud agonizing scream. I let out all my frustrations and anxiety and just said, Fuck it. Finish this damn thing.
My mood totally changed. I started singing along to my music and when a police officer came by on his motorcycle I started joking with him as I jogged along. He had never met anyone from New York before and liked talking to me. I laid on my Brooklyn accent a little more than usual. He got a kick out of it. He stayed with me until the last 5 kms. We said goodbye. I would never see that guy again, but I'll never forget him. Before we parted ways he would tell his fellow police officers that I was from New York City. Chatting with that cop helped. It brought me back. Brought my back my personality and positive attitude.
When I finally reached the home stretch the crowds were thinning out but over a loud speaker I heard an announcer speaking in Italian and then "Kris Lo Presto!" A big roar from the crowd helped push me past the finish line just under my 2010 marathon finishing time. About that home stretch: cobblestones. So many god damn cobblestones. This was the 4th time in the marathon I had to run on cobblestones. They were absolute torture to run on. I'll never forgive them for that.
And that was it. I rode the train back to my hotel alone with a plastic medal around my neck. My body started to break down much like it did after my first marathon. Which meant I needed my bathroom and fast! I made it back to the room and showered and laid down on the bed. Committed to staying the rest of the day in bed. I left only once to get take out food and drinks to bring up to my room. The rest of the night I ate and watched NFL games on my phone. It was sunday after all! It was a private moment. nothing flashy. No champagne or toasts to celebrate. Just me eating some olives in my hotel room. It was appropriate for this trip.
Food:
Everything bagel with cream cheese from Made in Brooklyn near my apt. Not bad!
Watermelon
Chopped salad with chicpeas, olives, cucumbers, tomatoes
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