My Marathon Story

Photo credit:worldmarathons.com

Almost everything I come across or what happens to me reminds me of a story and it was this case this afternoon as I took a walk this afternoon, I was amazed at how comfortable the running shoes I had on felt and it took my mind back to my first marathon as an adult.

I was a gymnast and sprinter in school and the 100 meters race was my thing in primary and early secondary schools; I honestly do not remember if anyone ever won me in those races back then. I was so good at it that I could have made a career out of it if the adults around me had done anything about it.

Honestly, I still nurse a bit of resentment for my games teachers who did nothing to get me to the next levels of participation. I met a classmate who was also good in those days and he told me that his parents got him a sports scholarship in the United States of America which got him through the highest level of education. His parents knew better to take the bulls by the horn because to sort their child out. Who knows, I could have been an Olympic gold medalist.

Ijeoma, a friend of mine in those days got into the fitness thing after her second child and she told me that running a marathon was one way of keeping the weight in check. I do not know how I let her talk me into registering for that marathon, it was a five-kilometer race and although we were not going to win, we wanted to do it for fun and she assured me that we would be side by side all the way.

 

I started to look forward to the day and forgot that the first day I participated in a long-distance race in secondary school, I was the first to drop out. My Agriculture teacher just looked at me and said, “Amaka, that was too early, Haba! such a poor outing, you dropped off too soon” I ignored her as I licked off glucose powder from the palm of my hand. I really wanted to tell her to shut up; after all, she was just sitting in a bus with other teachers following us behind as we ran through the woodlands of Enugu Campus. Why didn't she join us?

 

I think she was just upset that I was on the bus, and so they would no longer have the opportunity to say things or share information that they wouldn’t want me to be privy to. Anyway, I was on the bus the rest of the race and I will never forget the face of the smallish girl that won that race. On that day I learned that the race is indeed not to the swift!

 

So on the day of this marathon that I had registered for, I dressed in my nice knee-length yoga pants, sleeveless tops provided by the sponsors of that sports event, and a nice pair of running shoes. As I got ready that morning I had an option of wearing another pair of shoes but they looked ugly to me and did not flatter my big feet, so I decided to wear the better-looking pair that gave some sort of appeal. I looked and felt good.

 

When Ijeoma saw me that morning at the starting point, she was so happy because she was almost certain that I wouldn’t show up. I had my sunshades and was ready for the day to begin. After the process of getting our numbers and all, we went to the starting line and I began to feel excited, Ijeoma and I were also going to catch up on office gists and other life’s activities as we ran, I thought.

 

When the whistle went off, it felt like a dream, I was really taking part in this marathon and as we ran, I looked to the side to speak to Ijeoma and maybe crack one of my jokes, but the look on her face told me that she had a different plan, her lips were pursed like she was in pains. After a little hesitation, I asked her if she was okay and she smiled and said that she was. That was our last conversation; Ijeoma took off like a breeze and left me confused and alone, I understood temporary betrayal. I was betrayed by the person who encouraged me to run this race and I suddenly found myself with people I did not know.

 

It was just a few minutes into the race and I began to feel like my heart was failing and I remembered my little children at home, but my desire to get to the finish line urged me on, I couldn’t let myself down. Suddenly I was at a hospitality point where they served water and I was glad to stop running, I had some water and battled between jumping on a bike to where I parked my car and continuing with the marathon. I was still wondering when someone said, “move, move, keep moving, you can do it”, it was someone by the sideline supervising the event. I remember thinking to myself that I belonged there, supervising the event and cheering people on.

 

I continued, only this time, I joined a lady who was brisk walking, I felt comfortable with that method but it did not take time for me to realize that that on its own was another demonic attack on me, and so I began to just walk, the lady brisk walked on, left me behind and never looked back, in one day, I was abandoned twice. It felt really bad seeing people overtake me like I did not exist and I kept asking myself what I was doing there; no one held a gun to my head and I could just walk away from all the stress but I just kept going till I entered the second phase of my suffering.

 

My beautiful pair of shoes suddenly became very uncomfortable; I knew that they were a bit tight but I disregarded the voice of reasoning that morning and wore them anyway. I noticed that the back of my feet hurt badly and it seemed like I would not make it. I intentionally did not wear a pair of socks just to give my feet more room, error! I knew how important the socks were on that day. I managed to maintain a good disposition but at some point, I couldn’t handle it anymore and I just started walking to reveal the pain I was going through.

 

I was alone in the world but I had to finish that race, suddenly I started to see the finish line and I had renewed energy and began to run again without feeling the pain anymore but as I crossed the road to get into the park, some people stood and prevented me and some other people from running into the park; they said that it was the short cut and we had to go all the way down Ozumba Mbadiwe to the Bar beach area and then pass through a street then to the park. At that point, I was certain that someone was after my life, there was no way I could make it to the finish line, alive!

 

Yet, my resilience got the better part of me and I moved on, when the pain became unbearable, I threw all dignity to the wind and pulled off my shoes, at this point, I was no longer running, I  just walked and talked to myself. It could have been momentary insanity as I held my shoes in my hands and walked comfortably on the dirty grounds of Victoria Island, there was even a street that had had black water from overflowing drainage, I did not bother to avoid that path, what more did I have to lose? I walked on with a few things on my mind, seeing the end of that marathon, going home to my family, a very hot bath and good food, and fight with Ijeoma on Monday for abandoning me.

 

I was lost in my thoughts when a group of friends, some guys, and a lady walked to me and asked if I was okay, the blisters at the back of my heels were so visible and I walked funny and slowly, I was going to be last anyway. A group of strangers showed me empathy and I learned another lesson; help may come from the strangest places. Total strangers paid attention to my plight and offered me a pair of socks to at least protect my feet, then they decided to walk with me, “we will all come last together” one of them said and we all burst out laughing. We walked to the finish line horizontally and we were all together declared the last persons to finish the race.

 

I saw my friend as soon as I crossed the line and she couldn’t stop laughing, she didn’t leave me afterall, she waited for me to get to the finish line so she could drive me to where my car was. She said she knew I would walk through that gate no matter how late and was prepared to wait for me. On that day, I discovered how resilient and determined I was as a person. I did not win the race, didn’t come close, in fact I came in last, but I have never looked back, I keep moving!