300: a race report

King Leonidas, of chocolate fame.


One of my goals for this year is to run the equivalent of a marathon per week, so why not get an actual marathon in early on, I thought, as I sat on my cozy couch, slightly woozy from the heat of the fireplace and the inner fire lit by a fine single malt. Why not indeed?

One month later and I’m in a pine forest on the outskirts of Genk, in the Belgian rump region of Limburg. It’s cold and has just stopped raining. Looks like it could start again any moment, too. 

There are three hundred of us (the maximum number of participants allowed in the Louis Persoon Memorial Marathon), lined up like lambs for the slaughter, or a band of brothers (and a few sisters), and maybe that’s why, or maybe it’s just the mood I’m in these days, the first of the dystopian nightmare that is the Trump regime, but my thoughts go to Thermopylae. 

The tradition of running marathons comes from the first Persian invasion of Greece, when Pheidippides was sent to tell the citizens of Athens about the victory at Marathon. This wasn’t the Persians’ only attempt, however. They came back for more, and when they did, they came via the Hot Gates (i.e. Thermopylae), a narrow pass through the mountains. 

There, three hundred Spartans under King Leonidas made a stand, and held off an infinitely superior Persian force long enough that democracy could live and flourish. They knew they would perish in the process, but they did it anyway. 

It’s a little like that today. The three hundred of us fight through a seemingly endless onslaught of kilometres, battling it out up and down long inclines, pushing against the waves of oncoming Persian pines, lap after lap. 

The seven laps of the race are essentially made up of three kilometres uphill, then another three back down, both taking their toll. A month isn’t enough to prepare for a new record, and after the (still fairly good) first half, I realise that it won’t happen. I can’t help but feel a little defeated. What’s the point? 

My feet hurt so much from the repeated impact of poor soles against the asphalt that I’m forced to walk even if I could have run otherwise. Dehydration proves another obstacle. I simply hadn’t taken into account how much more you sweat wearing multiple layers, so my muscles start cramping, and when I pee it’s the colour of Earl Grey. Nutrition becomes a problem, too, as I get heartburn, which turns every breath into Greek fire, but thankfully a Pepsid allows me to keep that more or less under control. 

The rain holds off, but the overcast skies stay with us all day. When told the Persian archers were so numerous that their volleys of arrows would darken the sky and block out the sun, the Spartans’ only comment was “then at least we will be fighting in the shade”. I try to channel that super-cool attitude in the face of hardship, but my heart isn’t in it.

But then THAT’s not the way to take on a challenge like this. As the Spartan queen told Leonidas, “Come home with your shield, or on it”; quitting simply is not an option. With that in mind I make it a point to go into these races with three goals, where the first one is – always – to finish, the second one is a reasonably good time, and the third a personal best. 

I’m nowhere near a PB, but that’s ok. I came fairly close to the second, which was sub-four hours, and I reached the most important one. I persevered. Maybe sometimes that’s all one can hope for. We need to fight seemingly insurmountable odds, knowing that something is impossible and doing it anyway, sacrificing for the greater good. 

And whatever doesn’t kill you…

Before and after. No way of telling how bad it was in between…

 
P.S. At Thermopylae there is an inscription in a rock that’s been there ever since the battle. It says, simply, “Go tell the Spartans, stranger passing by, that here, obedient to their laws, we lie.”

Words to live and die by. I recovered from the race by eating a whole box of chocolates. Leonidas, of course.

Food for thought

It was 9/11 yesterday. The real 9/11. Trump was elected president. Yet another example of a populist playing on people’s fears and base instincts, but this one now with the power to change the course of history at a pivotal time, crucial for our species’ survival. A denier of climate change. An ingoramous, flaunting human rights and lacking in fundamental decency. The prospect is a grim one. 

The only thing I can see that would have made a difference is education. Learning more about the world around you gives you new perspectives, new insights. It’s the responsibility of each and every human to learn as much as they possibly can, and in doing so, exercise critical thinking, the better to withstand the base appeal of trumped-up alpha baboons offering simplistic solutions (or even just sound bites) to complex problems. 

I can’t shape education policies anywhere much – beyond the local school – but I can at least try to lead by example. As a birthday present to myself I bought ten books that were recommended by TED lecturers; I figured it was as good a way as any to discover titles that I would otherwise never read. Add to that five books that were gifted to me, and you have fifteen (mostly) non-fictional works that I will attempt to read before the end of the year. 50 days, 15 books, equals one book every 3,33 days. 

Tall order? Yes, but I’m going to try even so. Imagine a world in which every single adult read a new work of non-fiction every three days – how much of a chance do you think the Donalds, Le Pens and Borises of the world would have then? Imagine the quantum leap in human understanding, the as-yet untapped potential that might be unleashed for the greater good of humanity. 

Food for thought, that.

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The books on my reading list are:

Map Stories (Matteoli)

The old ways (Macfairlaine)

The Art of Being Human (Woodruff)

Eat and Run (Jurek)

A Time of Gifts (Leigh)

Exodus (Collier)

The Singing Neanderthals (Mithen)

Just Mercy (Stevenson)

My bondage and freedom (Douglass)

Lives in Ruins (Johnson)

Easy Company Soldier (Malarkey)

Jimmy Bluefeather (Heacox)

Ankara Witch (Okorafor)

Silence (Endo)

Bit Rot (Coupland)

Which ones are on yours?