The Marablog

When her alarm chimed at 4:30, Becca caught it on the second note and turned it off; she’d been lying awake for a few minutes, fresh from a night of tossing and turning. Though she’d gone to sleep cold, she awoke drenched in sweat and feeling less than lively. Still, she climbed down from the top bunk of her hostel bed, collected the bag she’d packed the night before and left the room.

            Sitemate in tow, she walked to the hostel that housed the remainder of her friends and was greeted by an array of grumbles and half smiles from the sleepy runners. She piled into a cab with four others and they were off, drowsiness quickly turning into nervous energy. Though her race wasn’t until 8:30, those running the marathon and half marathon started at 7 and so Becca found herself near the starting line at 6:30 waiting with the nervous marathoners.

            At 7:00, in classic hora peruana, the race had not yet started. Excitement, three year old American pop music, and a semi irritating announcer saturated the air. Thankfully, by 7:06 they were off!

For the next hour and a half Becca alternating chatting with some of the other people doing the 10k, going to the bathroom due to overzealous pre-race hydration, listening to Kesha, complaining with her race buddy, Brittany, about being hungry, and dancing on the now-empty start line. 

Finally, at 8:34, the 10k started and Becca and Brittany took off across the starting line.

They ran through the streets of Miraflores; past grand houses, cheering cheerers, and one teenage boy racing on a skateboard that caused a lot of “hey, that’s not fair”s. Becca checked her watch as they crossed 5k; 33, minutes, she picked up speed slightly. Somewhere around 6k, she lost her running buddy but decided it was ok and kept pushing on. Unfortunately pushing right onto a crack on the road that caused her to tip, twist her ankle and nearly fall. I say nearly because a nice gentlemen, the one she was in fact trying to pass when she tripped, caught her by the shoulders and righted her. She pivoted onto her opposite knee twisting it but smiled at him anyway and carried.

            As she rounded 7k, her knee, bad ankle and bad foot as began to ache and she suddenly felt 100 years old. This was when she noticed a man running behind her whose enthusiasm was infectious. From the beginning of the race he’d been periodically yelling reasons they should all carry on, things like “let’s run for the children,” “let’s run for those who can’t,” “let’s run for inner strength and outer strength.” Now as she listened, his enthusiasm hadn’t died and his creativity had grown exponentially. “Let’s run for all the hot chicks and the handsome dudes,” “let’s run for the police, oye not from the police, eh?” “Let’s run for all the dog walkers!” He missed nothing.

            Not long after she passed 8k, they ran under a huge arch decorated with balloons which was surrounded by a crowd of people. They all cheered and yelled and Becca noted that one man held a sign which read “One km left!” Becca breathed in a long, deep breath and pushed forward just a little faster feeling the immense relief that they were in the last few minutes. Then she rounded another corner and saw the 9k sign. She felt more anger than dismay and nearly wheeled around to beat the hell out of the liar with the sign. Instead she voted to finish her race and then go back for him, he’d pay.

            People around her were beginning to lose their pace; some stopped to walk, others slowed visibly and one girl collapsed at the side of the road. They were giving up. Becca picked up speed and wove through them chanting “¡Vamos, vamos, vamos!” as she went. She’d never imagined herself the motivational type but something about the moment called for it. She heard the finish line before she saw it; friends, family members, and local residents grouped there cheering the finishers on and Becca grinned as she jumped across the finish line into a crowd of sponsors handing out gear and people taking pictures. Brittany found her a few minutes later and they headed to the food huts.

 That evening, after watching the incredible persistence and physical feats of their friends finishing the half and full marathons, they went out for dinner and enjoyed delicious victory burgers. Becca looked around the table at the pure happiness and pride in her friends’ faces and quietly thanked Kesha and her fanny pack for getting her to the finish line.