Nancy at Christchurch
My daughter, Tina, ran her first marathon last month in a blazing time of 3:55. As I watched her finish, I remembered my best marathon -- the Nike, City of Christchurch Marathon in New Zealand -- in 1982.
From Voluntary Nomads, Part Four: New Zealand Yarns, Chapter 15:
A Marathon is 26.2 Miles
The
City of Christchurch course was as beautiful as any could be. Starting and
ending at the Queen Elizabeth II Stadium (site of the 1974 Commonwealth Games),
it followed the River Avon, cut through Hagley Park on a cycle path, went out
to the airport, and returned by reverse route.
For
Fred and me, this was the last chance to run a marathon before leaving New
Zealand; in fact, since we would be spending the next two years in Somalia,
this could be the last marathon opportunity for quite a long time.
My
training for this one went well. I put in six runs of twenty miles or more and
another seven runs of two hours or more. Also, I ran a fast half-marathon
(2:00:45) on a hilly course just before starting the training program, and I
finished a 10K race in 48:38 halfway through my training.
The
weather turned out to be fairly decent: 4 – 8 degrees C (about 40 F), mostly
cloudy with intermittent rain, and a light southerly wind (behind us coming
home). I wore maximum clothes for running: tights, shorts, long sleeved
turtleneck, singlet, rain jacket, hat and gloves – and I was comfortable while
others who dressed lightly suffered from the cold.
I
found my groove and ran the first half at a pace I felt I could maintain
forever. I caught up with two fellows and settled in to enjoy their company. As
we three ran along, talking about running and training, I heard a cheer aimed
at me for "the rose between two thorns." We passed the halfway point
in 2:08.
When
my younger companion surged ahead and the older guy dropped back, I
concentrated on maintaining my rhythm. I started to overtake some of the
runners.
After
the 40K mark (almost 25 miles), I went on passing people; no one seemed to be
in real distress, just plodding along. Before entering the stadium I shrugged
off my jacket so my race number would be visible. I waved at three silhouettes
standing at the top of the stadium, absolutely sure they were Fred, Sue and
Geoff. I realized two days later that not one of those three would have felt
like climbing all those steps after running 26.2 miles.
Once
on the track inside the stadium I picked up the pace and strode out against a
chilling wind. Fred and Sue stood there on the sidelines cheering me on (Geoff
huddled in a blanket indoors near a heater). I crossed the finish line triumphnt.
After collecting our gear we four athletes shuffled
as fast as we could to the car and then to the spa pool at Sue and Geoff's
motel for a nice hot soak.
I
puffed up with pride when I thought about my 4:17:15 finish. I beat my 4:20
goal and felt like Queen Kong.
After
lunch and a short rest, Fred and I went to the awards party for supper and
disco – and we had enough leg power to dance the night away. It
might have been due to the dancing that my legs weren't stiff at all the next
day. Left knee, left foot, and all toes were tender and two right toes burned
with small but painful blisters – the only battle scars.
Finally
the long-sought-after perfect marathon experience was mine. Even though it took
three tries to get it right, it was worth it. These New Zealand marathons,
three within eight months, polished my character and reinforced my
self-confidence in ways that have run deep and true for the rest of my life.
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