Venice Marathon
October 27, 2002

After my horrible melt-down at Twin Cities Marathon on Sept. 29, I was certain I would not run the Venice Marathon on Oct. 27 as I had originally planned. There was no way I could endure that much misery again so soon. And I wanted to take at least a month off from running. I needed a mental and physical break. I was happy to hear that the race filled in early October. There would be no temptation to sign up at the last minute.

We were going to Paris & Italy to celebrate my 40th birthday. It was just a coincidence that the Venice Marathon was happening while we were there. But it no longer mattered since I wasn't going to run it. We'd just enjoy the day in Venice.

We were scheduled to fly to Europe on Sunday, Oct. 20 at 9:45pm. I stopped by to see my friend Bill Pflueger on Friday the 18th. When I told him I would not be running the marathon in Venice he seemed disappointed. "Go ahead and run it! You can finish. You know you can. Just think of Twin Cities as your last long run before Venice, with a 4-week taper." No way. I can't take that much pain again so soon. "You can do it. Just run slow. It will be your first race after turning 40 (Oct.24). What a cool thing to do! A marathon in Venice!" He said all the right things - all the things that made me want to do the race in the first place. And how lame was it to be in Venice *during* the marathon, but not run it.

Darn you to heck Bill Pflueger! Stop figuring me out.

When I got home I checked the web site and surprisingly the race had not filled. Online registration closed on Oct. 19 - the following day. If I could just hold out through the next day, I'd be in the clear. I was so tempted to register, but did not want a marathon hanging over my head the whole time we were in Italy. And the pain. The pain of Twin Cities was still in my mind, but fading. Just hang on one day.

Sunday, Oct. 20 - I made it. I didn't register. No decision necessary, I can't do the race. I checked the web site, just to see the "registration closed" announcement. Online registration had been extended to Oct. 24. >:( Why are they doing this to me? Ah, darnit. I'll just sign up. I'll pay my 73 Euros for the opportunity to run if I choose to. So that's what I did.

I really didn't think about the race much during the week. We had 1 night in Paris and 4 nights in Ostra - 4 hours south of Venice. We had a wonderful time and I had a great birthday dinner on Thursday. Saturday morning we took the train to Padova (Pah-doo-ah), where Mauro and Marcella met us at the station. Mauro had come down with a cold, so he would not be running the next day. I knew this was a big disappointment to him since it's his home race and he's run it every year since 1995. And the only thing that's worse than not being able to run a race is standing by watching everyone else run it.

After a nice lunch and conversation with Mauro and Marcella, we went to the expo in Mestre to pick up my race packet. The packet contained 3 things - a t-shirt, a large box of crackers and a bottle of Gatorade. We scoped out the rest of the expo, where I eventually found a pair of running shorts that were not split up to the armpits. I had brought only tights, and it was way too warm for tights. A couple of booths at the expo sold meat, cheese, and assorted jars of peppers and things. Not your usual marathon expo fare.

Race Day - so I guess I'm really going to do this. Good or bad, it'll all be over with by this afternoon. Let's go.

We drove to the start in Stra, which is not far from Mauro & Marcella's place in Padova. I immediately went to the porta potty lines. For 7500 people there were only 6 porta potties, but this was adequate since there was a long urination trough for the men. I sure wish they would have those at all races - for everyone's benefit. This brings up something I've often wondered - why do men stand in long porta potty lines just to pee? Can't they just go behind a tree or next to a building and leave the potties for the women? I thought one of the benefits to being male is having the outdoors as your giant toilet. :)

I unknowingly chose a line with too many men in it. You've got to figure that a man standing in the line instead of using the trough is going to be in there for a while, and this proved to be true. My line moved very slowly.

By the time I got out of the potty it was after 9:00 and the race started at 9:20. Where did they come up with a 9:20 start time anyway? I said goodbye to all and made my way into the last entry chute. I planned to run with the 5:00 pace group. They were the slowest of all the pace groups and the only ones I had a chance of keeping up with.

I found the yellow balloons of the 5:00 pace group and lined up with them. I had met them at the pace makers dinner the previous night. My pacers were Serena, Ilaria, and Matteo (female, female, male).

Going into this race I assumed I would be running the entire way in solitude. I speak almost no Italian, although I've discovered that you can get pretty far with Ciao, Prego, Scusi and Grazie. I did not expect anyone to speak English, but again I was proven wrong. Matteo spoke English well (and often) as did Serena and Ilaria. They introduced me to a few folks from Houston who were also running with the 5:00 pace group.

The gun went off, and in 4 short minutes we made our way to the starting line. There was a large crowd of spectators to cheer us on. Matteo danced back and forth through the crowd of runners, chatting with everyone, pointing out items of interest along the way. Serena and Ilaria cheered us on and continually checked on us. Several times I'd hear them call to me "Jane, Okay?".

The course runs along a river for several miles, with beautiful old villas on either side. It was a beautiful run, and it is pancake flat. Some races advertise a flat race, but this *is* a flat race.

Shortly after the start of the race, I looked to the right and saw what appeared to be a priest in running shoes, peeing by the side of the road. Are they allowed to do that? It is funny and mildly shocking. I later find out he is running in a trio - the priest, a groom and a surly man dressed as a bride. The bride gets a lot of attention from the spectators and whenever we approach a big group Serena and Ilaria hold up his wedding dress so they can see his hairy legs. It is highly entertaining seeing the crowd's reaction to this stocky, hairy bride, and we get to see it mile after mile.

Our pace was comfortable and I was quite sure I could maintain it for the entire race. At one point I noticed some geese on the river, traveling the same direction as we were. We were not running much faster than the geese were swimming.

Soon we hit the town of Dolo. There was a uniformed band with flag throwers along the road and again a large crowd. Matteo marched and danced to the band's music, running from one side of the road to the other to thank and hug the spectators. He appeared to have enough energy to run a 2:30 marathon.

The aid stations were well organized with bottles or cups of Gatorade, and full bottles of water - at 15K or 20K they also had fruit. As we approached each aid station they would be calling "Gatorade" or "acqua". As I approached they usually said "water". How did they know to speak English to me?

Throughout the course, spectators would yell "Bravo" to the men, "Brava" to the women and something along the lines of "go go go" to me. How did they know?

As we headed towards the halfway point I started to tire, but still felt I could keep up with the pace group. At one point I noticed that we were running on Via Malcontenta. I'm not sure what that means, but it sounds like a good name for a street in a marathon.

We hit the 20K point and I felt pretty good. Not great, but good. And then I lost them. Between 20K and the halfway point (20.97?K) the pace group got away from me. I don't know if they sped up to make their halfway point benchmark, or if I slowed down, but they were gone in a hurry. And now I really was on my own. We were in an industrial area with no spectators and not much to look at. The bride, groom and priest were nowhere in sight. I realize I won't make a 5:00 marathon. Do I care? My goal was to finish by the 6:00 cutoff and I know I'll make that. I had a terrible run at TCM and have run only 5 miles in the past month, so the best I can hope for is just to finish.

Throughout the course I'm surprised at how many people come out to cheer, especially in the towns. There are people standing along the road and hanging out of windows. Many of them cheer for every person who passes. Bravo! Brava! Go go go.

By 25K I'm really starting to slow down and I don't feel so great. I probably ate too much at the 20K aid station. My stomach felt crappy. Until then I had only walked at the aid stations and I really want to keep this up. I just needed to make it to 30K. After that my next big goal was 32K - roughly 20 miles.

There are distance markers every kilometer, which made the distance pass much more quickly. It's much easier to "just make it to the next kilometer" than to "just make it to the next mile". I took several walk breaks between 27K and 30K.

By the time I make it to 30K I feel really bad - nauseous, tired and sore. I don't eat or drink anything at the aid station. I've been taking 1 or 2 salt tablets every 5K but this time I pass. I do walk through the aid station though. I start "running" again but it doesn't last long.

I see a woman wearing an Arthritis Foundation lime green tank top. There are several of them in the race, mostly from Los Angeles. I know she'll speak English so I jog to catch up, then walk with her. Her name is Stacie. This is her first marathon. She trained with several others in the Arthritis Foundation group and they had trained for a 6:00 marathon, which is the cutoff for this race. Their plan was to run the first half at a slower pace, then speed up later. Unfortunately this did not sit well with the race organization. While running their slower first half, the sag wagon approached them and the driver told them they had to get in because they were not running fast enough to finish by the cutoff. They explained their strategy (in English I assume) and refused to get on the bus. He drove past them, opened the door again and told them they had to get in, but they refused. The driver then called the police, who made them get on the bus. Had I been picked up by the sag wagon I would have assumed my race was over, but the sag wagon did not take them to the finish line. He drove them further up the course, then dropped them off so they could finish the race. Stacie said she felt bad, like she had cheated and had not really run a marathon. I assured her that I would have hopped on that bus in a second and enjoyed the ride and the weirdness of it all.

After a while my legs start to tighten, so I tell her I need to run a while. After running about 100 meters I stop and puke in the grass. She passes me while I'm puking and doesn't say a word. I instantly feel better and start to jog again, passing her and telling her I'll probably be walking with her again soon.

I make it to the 32K mark, not feeling great, but not nauseous any more. I'm really tired though and my legs are sore. Only 10K to go. My next goal is 37K - 5K from the finish.

I notice that someone has removed their 5:00 pace group sign and stuck it to one of the kilometer markers. Buddy, I know exactly how you feel.

Then we hit the bridge. The web site describes the bridge in this manner - "Probably, this is the most challenging section of the entire race, where athletes' psychological strenght is heavily tested, and where leading runners usually make their moves to win." I am actually enjoying the bridge. It's flat, there is a nice breeze and I can see Venice on the other side. I'm really getting somewhere! I decide to walk the entire bridge, thinking it's about half a mile long. It's actually 5K. I walk and walk and walk and Venice still looks quite far away, so I jog a while. I do a walk/jog the rest of the bridge. Several trains pass us on the bridge and I notice that everyone is looking out the windows at us. I try to be jogging whenever the train passes because I don't want these people to see me walking.

After the bridge we run about a mile through a port area, then hit the bridges of Venice. I had not heard about these bridges. Apparently they are legendary to all who have run this race, and now I know why. On all but one bridge they have put wooden ramps on either side, so we run up and down ramps instead of steps. This is a nice touch, but they're still mini hills and there are so damn many of them. After the 2nd bridge I start looking for the finish line, thinking it must be just ahead. But it isn't. There are 13 bridges in all that we must cross. So over and over and over I go, every time thinking maybe this is the last one. All along the way the left side of the run course is packed with tourists. They have roped off a large area for us to run along the water, and the tourists are all squeezed into one thin walkway alongside us. Many of them have stopped to cheer us on. They cheer for us like we're the leaders, like we're important players in a popular sport. This chokes me up and I can't look at them. Occasionally I ask one of them where the finish line is, or if there is actually a finish line, and in true spectator form they all say "just one more bridge" or "you're almost there".

Finally I reach the point where I can see the finish line. I'm so excited about finishing I forget to look for Robert, Mauro or Marcella. I glance to the side and see Marcella talking on her cell phone and then see Robert. The finish line announcer asks me if I'm really from Atlanta. When I say yes, he wants me to stop and talk with him, but I really just want to cross the finish line. I finally do in 5:42 their time, 5:38 my time. Slow, but so what. I ran the Venice marathon! My first race as a master! Woo hoo!

I stop to get my medal, then look for Robert. After he finds me I puke some more at the edge of the water. Then I sit down and watch the rest of the finishers while he looks for Mauro.

I'm glad I ran it, and I knew I would be. It was painful at the end but in retrospect, not that bad. It was a great marathon course, well-organized and well-supported. I would definitely run it again!