BA 1/2 Marathon

XVIII HALF MARATHON
BUENOS AIRES CITY®

"This test of competitive character is directed to those who are arranged to confront the challenge of 21 km we hoped to count on the participation of all type of runners, as much professional as amateurs. We remembered all the runners interested that they must be prepared physical and medically to be able to complete this distance."

Maybe I should have read this excerpt from the official race website before heading out yesterday morning. I've been training with "Los Halcones" running team for 3 months now - 4 days a week, 3 hours each session. (If you sometimes wonder what I do with my time these days, now you know. Add daily spanish lessons, walking and feeding myself and the dog, the occasional social outing, conversing with the doorman Luis and there you go)

These last two weeks my coach "El Martin" prepared me to run the BA 1/2 marathon (or so he thought). Last wed I ran 11 miles - the last 5 with the team captain "Judith from Holland who speaks 6 languages effortless and runs like she speaks" and Martin on either side urging me to go faster. Then, Thursday the weather took a peculiar and dramatic turn. Wednesday was winter - cold blustery. Slept with 3 heavy comforters on the bed and wore a sweater to the park with Utta.

Thursday, work up sweating. It was humid and warm. Not spring, but summer. the kind of hot and sticky that leaves you feeling like doing a whole lot of nothing. same on Friday. that night I went to running practice and felt nauseous after two laps around the lake. fatigued and uncomfortable. I started to get worried as the forecast said the weekend would get even warmer and more humid. Martin told me not to worry - that we'd take it easy in the race if need be.

Saturday night he sent me a text message that said "Are you ready to fly like Rocky?" (yes, he's obsessed with Rocky and Apollo Creed and makes constant references to movie scenes where we might learn something about honor, good sportmanship or how Rocky got his groove back) Sunday morning was up by 6am to caffinate, then walk Utta around the block. It was already muggy and thick. Reminded me of the trip Hugh and I took with friends Dan and Michelle to New Orleans one week in July several years ago. The race started and ended at Plaza de Mayo. Site of the most important government building in the city and several other historic points of interest. It was quiet and inspiring. Runners are the same everywhere. Same attire, same long lines for the portapotties 5 minutes before the start. same stretching. same getting their ipods tuned up and the "elites" in the front wearing what seem to be eurobikinis. not attractive in the least but apparently practical on a hot day with 97% humidity and temperatures in the high 70s.

10 minutes after the start I was literally gasping for air. Martin planned to run the entire race at my side theoretically for "encouragement" and "motivation". Little did I know that those words of encouragement would be something like this: "faster Ambi, let's go, you're a falcon not a dove, watch your arms - swing forward a bit more, vamos vamos vamos, rapido rapido rapido". Somewhere around kilometer 10 I started thinking - honestly this must be what hell is like. I could not for the life of me turn off the negative thoughts. Pain, ugh. so hot. need air. need water. when is the next water stop. god i'd love to just walk for a minute. Then Martin again "eye of the tiger, eye of the tiger (yes, he actually said "ojo de tigre"). Do it like "Rocky" (Como Rocky asi!) Nothing at that moment was more infuriating more maddening than having an 89 pound Argentine professional runner screaming at me to channel Rocky freakin Balboa as sweat streamed down my face and my legs shook with exhaustion.

Somehow I made it to the 15km mark though with dread as Martin informed me at the start that our "strategy" for the race wood be to run the first 10k "tranquile" and the second half we would "fly like Halcones". How could I fly when I could barely breathe? When my legs felt like unnecessary appendages - weights that would drag me down and drown me? I was too drained at that point to argue or to think of the words in spanish to express the sentiment "I feel like i'm going to die - Rocky can eat my shorts!". the only thing that squeeked out was "no puedo" (I can't). he didn't buy it and continued to "encourage".

The final kilometer he started in again - "this is your time, your race, give it everything you've got, the fastest you can possibly run". Only pride and vanity nudged me forward and across the finish line with a near heart attack. Martin still had no idea how painful, how laborious, how unfun it was for me to run 13.1 miles in the stiffling heat sucking bus fumes with someone screaming at me the whole time to "vamos!". The Halcones team motto is "Fue duro pero lo hice" (It was hard, but I did it). That's all I said when the race was over. we stretched each other and went home.