Marathon I'd Like to Finish

And so to the anachronism of marathons. The bombshells from a bygone age. They defy metrification and continue to dine out all afternoon when everybody else wants to finish and get on with their busy lives. And yet each of them retain the glamour that has long departed contemporaries, the distance walking and 10,000 metres age gracefully in a home but the marathon is still forcing herself into the public eye. We all know it is wrong but there is something about her, people continue to be entranced by her mystique, drawn, powerless, into her clutches and then she devours them, mercilessly destroying joints, tendons, muscles and cartilage. And afterwards you are a member of a limited but not very exclusive club. People, however distasteful they find it still have a grudging respect that you did one.

For a very long time I have contemplated a marathon. I had a place in London twice but had to drop out both times through a knee injury picked up in training. The nature of this year meant I had to have one last attempt before accepting she is a conquest too far. But this year London didn’t want me. I needed to find somewhere else. Not any of the other big three. New York was out, I didn’t want to go back to the same place for more than one challenge. Boston and Berlin came at the wrong time. I had to look at the minor marathons. Nearly every city seems to have one so it was a case of finding the right one for me. I looked at Prague, I looked at Rome, I looked at Paris. None were quite right. I wanted something with a bit of kudos, somewhere that had a bit more meaning than shutting your eyes and doing it for the sake of doing it. Finally I decided where to search, the original, the inspiration, the mother of them all. A couple of clicks of a mouse and there she was, exposed before me. She retained all her legendary charms, maybe now a little tatty but the route and the finish were as they were in the beginning of it all. She still had the exotic allure of somewhere I had never been before. I could pay to enter her. I was snared.

But now the moment nears and I am not ready for her, not if I am going to do myself justice. The three weeks I have had to train since my knees got over cycling is the amount of time period they advise you to use for winding down and conserving strength. I will go slowly, I will pace myself and, injuries permitting, she will be mine. It has to be that way. I always said I would defy the bombshells. I would use Athens for my needs. I will only ever do one marathon in my life and this is it. I know they lure back others who make these claims but not me. I have seen what their power can do to people, turning them from cool DJs into peculiar old men.


PS. For anybody who is thinking of taking part in a marathon here is my top training tip. However stylish your snug fitting Chelsea boots may be avoid wearing them for the first time since Spring the weekend before the marathon. This is stupid and is just asking for the skin to be taken off your ankles. You will face the prospect of being in a lot of pain just walking to the start line. Go with the broken in, slightly tatty brogues.