chicken

Today, the circus was in town. Granted, for some the London Marathon is a race. The winning time of just above 2:05 attests to that. Many, though, participate to raise funds for all sorts of good causes. These charity racers are what gives color to the race as many dress up in outrageous outfits. Last year, there was chain gang of 17 who group-ran the course. This year, the uncontested stars of the show were a bunch of Maasai warriors running with shield and spear. They were as outrageous and hilarious as anyone but with the little twist that they were real. They had come to London to raise enough money to build a well in their village, which these guys had apparently never left before. I just hope they raise more than their two-week all-expenses-paid trip to London cost in the first place, but it's probably better this way than sending them money for nothing. Awareness is priceless.

In any case, I don't care about the London Marathon as such, but it is important for me as a marker. My own little challenge, the Oberelbe Marathon, is staged in two weeks. I should be getting ready by now. It's too late for the long runs. The base must be built. Speed is what remains to be trained.

Since I haven't done a run longer than 20km all year, I decided to squeeze something in before time runs out completely. 20km on Saturday, followed by 30 on Sunday – that sounded doable. After sitting out the worst rain in lab, I went out on Saturday afternoon in fine form. However, at the end of the first 10-km-loop through Hyde Park, it started raining so badly that I was ready to chicken out. Normally, once I've made up my mind, nothing can come between me and bailing. But this time, something did. Crossing my start/finish line right in front of Prince Albert Memorial, I hit the split-time button on my watch instead of the stop button. I took this as a sign, kept going and was rewarded with the most magnificent double rainbow I have ever seen shortly thereafter. It was so close I could almost touch it. Then the rain stopped and 40 minutes later, when I finally finished, I was happy to have continued.

Today, the weather was similar, but there was no rainbow, and after two laps it got so cold and miserable that I couldn't summon any motivation for a third. My legs were hurting, my hands went numb, and faint pain did a bizarre Maasai war dance dangerously close to my left knee. I was afraid to do more damage than good if I continued.

Exiting the tube on my way home, I hobbled down the stairs like a crippled chicken in a coop.