Husband and I wanted to turn our marathon experience into a mini vacation, so we booked a Friday afternoon flight to Nice. Saturday morning we picked up our race bibs and visited the marathon expo where we made quite a haul.
We found a pasta place for lunch, wondered around town that afternoon, and kicked back all evening.
Since our hotel was only 500 meters from the starting line, we were able to stay in our room until shortly before the 8 a.m. start. With only about 30 Porta Potties set up for 8000 runners, that was quite convenient! Husband set out a bit before I did to drop off our clothes bags. We thought we wouldn’t have any trouble finding each other before the race started, but we had a miscommunication about the rendezvous spot. I stood on a cinder block to search for Husband in the crowd and twisted my ankle stepping down. It hurt, but I knew it wasn’t bad enough to keep me from running. I got next to the 4-hour pace setter hoping to find Husband eventually.
It took me 3 minutes to reach the starting line after the gun went off, then we headed down the Quai des Anglais; shuffling first, then jogging before finally being able to run. Even then we were stepping on each other’s heels for the first 5 kilometers. At that point I caught up with Husband. It was great to be together! At 10 kilometers my ankle started hurting, but the pain disappeared after a few minutes and didn’t give me any more trouble until two days after the race. By the halfway mark, my thighs were getting pretty tight and I couldn’t keep up with Husband any longer. I watched him slowly pull away and eventually go out of sight. I was on my own, so to speak, from then on. Both of us had been worried that our recent shin problems might keep us from finishing; but I knew at that point that I would finish, even if I had to walk a good part of the way.
The second half of the course was hillier than I had anticipated. The more my thighs tightened, the less I enjoyed the beautiful costal setting, and the more I had to slow down. By the 30-kilometer mark I was walking through the aid stations, then stopping to stretch. I knew I wouldn’t be breaking 4 hours. By 35 kilometers my thighs felt like cement blocks and I realized I wouldn’t even finish under 4:05’. By 40 kilometers I just wanted to walk. I also wanted to cry. But I didn’t do either. I made it to the finish line in Cannes where I was handed my finisher’s t-shirt and medal.
Husband and I found each other right away. We were both very happy to have finished, yet slightly disappointed with our times. We hobbled to the station and waited for the train back to Nice. After we got back to our hotel, we went up to the roof to soak in the Jacuzzi. We met and talked with some other runners from Russia and Scotland who were also trying to sooth their aching muscles in the hot tub.
We had one more day left on our mini vacation. We spent all day Monday walking around Nice before our evening flight home.
Gotta run...
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