Temenos: Spetses Mini Marathon 25km--results

This was my second running of the Spetses Mini Marathon, a 25-kilometer around-the-island event that is part of a weekend of activities—shorter races for the kids (500 meters and 1000 meters), a 10K and a 5K, and some incredible open-ocean swimming events—1500, 3000, and 5000 meters.

The "before" photo

My goal for this year was simple enough: win my age group. I trained with some focus during the six weeks before the event, “coached” by my friend Eric. I should feel some accomplishment in having achieved this lofty goal (winning the 60+ fossil category), but otherwise the race went rather poorly. I assumed based on perceived fitness that this year’s time would be equal to or faster than last year’s time, but that wasn’t in the cards. Last year: 1:57. This year: 2:13. A whopping 16 minutes. Ouch!

Could not find my mojo from early on. Too much walking the day before, poor hydration and insufficient fueling, not enough sleep. I should have known better.

You win some, you lose some...and you win some that you feel like you lost!

But worse than the finish time was how I felt during the race. I am a 45-year proponent of the joy of running. If it’s not fun, liberating, joyful, or spiritual—don’t do it. There was no joy in today’s event, but a fair amount of agony. By mile 4 (of an extremely challenging 15.5 miles with plenty of elevation) I knew that I was in trouble. My “style” of racing, especially in longer events, is to go out moderately and start picking off people—the fox versus the rabbit. Today I went out moderately and was continuously passed by runners, including a large contingent of very beautiful, fit, tanned life guards of both genders who had worked the swimming events on Saturday.

When you start walking the downhill sections, you know you’re in big trouble. The final 2 kilometers, flat as a pancake and passing along the waterfront, was excruciating. The final 500 meters through a veritable gauntlet of cafeneions, all packed with well-wishers, was especially hard. I could have easily face-planted on the marble staircase.

Several members of my family (uncles, aunts, and second cousins) appeared at the finish, full of praise equal to my disgust. My kind cousin Taki stuck with me, bringing me drinks, bananas, and the gentle suggestion that I might like to visit the medical tent. I chose instead to get in line for the Nazi Massage Tent, which lived up to its name. My daughter Lucia told me if I wasn’t crying during the massage, it wasn’t a good massage.

I stumbled back to the hotel, where I was given a room key so I could take a hot shower (most welcome!). I looked in the mirror as I dressed and realized I had lost all color from my face. A few minutes later another cousin, wise Socrates, offered me a ginger ale that proved utterly transformative. It was like a shot of adrenaline, clearing my head and restoring my usual skin tone. This glorious soda proved to me that I had “bonked”—in distance runner lingo that means used all available stored sugars. Not just the muscles but the brain suffers too.

I stumbled back to the venue to hear the awards ceremony and was astounded to learn that I had won my age group. How could that be?. (The other two runners had already caught the ferry to the mainland, so I was alone on the podium in the photo below.)

Here are some more photos from today: