The run from Athens to Marathon took me three hours and fifty-one minutes. Not exactly a great
time, but at least I was able to run the whole course by myself, my only companions the awful traffic, the
unimaginable heat, and my terrible thirst. I guess I should be proud of what I did, but right now I don’t
care. What makes me happy right now is knowing that I don’t have to run another step.
Whew!—I don’t have to run anymore.This was my first-ever experience running (nearly) twenty-six miles. And, happily, it was the last time
I ever had to run twenty-six miles in such grueling conditions. In December of the same year I ran the
Honolulu Marathon in a fairly decent time. Hawaii was hot, but nothing compared to Athens. So
Honolulu was my first official full marathon. Ever since then it’s been my practice to run one full
marathon a year.
Rereading the article I wrote at the time of this run in Greece, I’ve discovered that after twenty-
some years, and as many marathons later, the feelings I have when I run twenty-six miles are the same
as back then. Even now, whenever I run a marathon my mind goes through the same exact process. Up
to nineteen miles I’m sure I can run a good time, but past twenty-two miles I run out of fuel and start to
get upset at everything. And at the end I feel like a car that’s run out of gas. But after I finish and some
time has passed, I forget all the pain and misery and am already planning how I can run an even better time
in the next race. The funny thing is, no matter how much experience I have under my belt, no matter
how old I get, it’s all just a repeat of what came before.
I think certain types of processes don’t allow for any variation. If you have to be part of that
process, all you can do is transform—or perhaps distort—yourself through that persistent repetition,
and make that process a part of your own personality.
Whew!