Sunday, April 10, 2011
Paris, Fance
Today is the big day, the Paris Marathon.
Up early, 6:30 am, Jan and I in one bedroom, Tara and Leanne in the other, alternating in the bathroom and shower with practiced precision until we were all ready to go. Jan and Leanne went upstairs to the next apartment where Ruth and Thera were getting ready accompanied by Kathleen and Breeny. Soon, by 8:00am, the three runners (Leanne, Ruth, Thera) were downstairs on the sidewalk putting on their bibs and numbers, and their plastic shirts to keep them warm in the cool morning air. After much photo-taking and banter, the three runners headed toward the starting line, followed by Kathleen and Breeny at a more sedate pace. Jan and I and Tara (with her two big fish balloons floating high above) followed, but we were only going as far as the 2 kilometer mark along the Rue du Rivoli where we were meeting David, as well as Shane and Sonja, and filming the first runners as they go by and waiting for our three runners who would be in the 'pink' group. The point we walked to was only 20 minutes from our apartment, right by the Louvre, where we waited. The marathon's route was along the Rue du Rivoli for some distance beyond our station, and the road had been barricaded off from motorized traffic and was being patrolled by police on scooters and in cars. Tara was in front of our little group of Shane, Sonja, Jan, and I, holding her balloons and a little package of safely pins and a sponge for the refreshement stations that she was to hand Leanne as she passed by.
We waited, as the official start time of 8:45 approached. In the distance, to our left, we sensed motion and sound, and quickly the first of the marathon approached in the form of the handicapped racers in their wheelchairs. That group moved so quickly, flying by far faster than runners ever could and surrounded by a police escort. Soon the 'elite' runners came behind, wearing black stripes on their bibs. A well chosen color, as all of the elite runner were in fact black, long lean fellows, pounding along at a furious pace in a tight little group of about 25 runners. At stake for these was the first prize of 50,000 Euros for the race. After them came the other bib colors of green, blue, red, orange, purple, perhaps others, followed by the pink contingent that we were cheering for. The running crowd was dense and there was little running room for them all. The crowd where we were was sparse at the 2km mark and the runners spilled over from the street to the sidewalk where we stood by a lamp post. We were in the curious position of being in the center of this moving river of bibbed humanity, all colors and textures and races and genders, some costumed and some deadly serious, but all coming hard and surging by us. Later, they would be spread out but now they were just looking for running room and trying to pass or be passed without being bumped and banged in the scrum.
Mixed in were the 'special purpose' runners, those in costume and those escorting handicapped kids propped up on special wheeled carriages, where the running group would take turns pushing and pulling the kid. These groups, probably about fifteen of them in all, drew cheers from every part of the course as they passed by. Another special purpose group pulled a large barrel of Beaujolais Nouveau, and there were many other colorful and strange participants, not the least of which was a giant centipede of a Guiness Record number of participants roped together, the largest number ever participating in a race of this sort, and all bent on finishing together with no member either passing another or falling behind. In all, the race had been fully sold out with a full 40,000 people having prepaid their enrollment fees and entrance closed out for several weeks before race day.
Finally, the first pink bibs came by and then, mixed in with green and blue ones, came our three runners. Leanne knew of the fish baloons (they had spent the night on the ceiling of their bedroom) and was waving as she approached us and Tara. All three runners were running well and had big smiles as they came by, and Tara handed off her package to Leanne as they didn't either stop or even break stride. Soon our three runners were passed us, swallowed up in the crowd of other runners and blocked from our view by the herd coming behind them.
We waited for a long while as the large pink contingent went by, our three had been at the very front of that group, and finally all the stragglers were passing and then David came up from the start area (which had been very congested), followed by Kathleen and Breeny. Our group of supporters had now swelled to eight in number, and two helium fish, as we hiked from our 2 km marker to the subway station and embarked toward our next viewing point of the race near the Porte Doree hotel (Shane and Sonja's hotel) at the 9 kilometer mark of the race. We exited the tube and walked about eight blocks to the race route, where the crowd was quite thick on both sides of the road and had crowed the runners into a narrow corridor. We took up our position as a group, and gradually worked our way inward toward the running group as other supporters drifted away after cheering their candidate on. Finally we were at the edge, fish flying high, ready. Leanne and the runners had chips on their laces identifying them electronically, and there were sensors places along the race route about every 2 kilometers which broadcasted the chip numbers as they passed. This information could be picked up by a free application on Apple cell phones (i-phones), so Tara could tell where the runners were to some extent. So, waiting, we knew they were coming but not exactly where so we all watched carefully for their approach. Finally, I saw them, Leanne waving as she saw us having known where we were for a hundred yards because of the high-floating fish. As they went by, we handed them sport drink containers for energy, which they took and disappeared in the surging crowd of runners. Between the crowd of supporters cheering and shouting 'courage' and 'allez, allez', and the runners pounding out a steady beat, and the waving banners and colors and bright sunshine, there was a lot of excitement in the air and a lot of adrenaline among runners and supporters alike.
Then back on the tube again for us, with the tube extremely crowded by others moving around as we were, far more packed than any London tube experience we had ever had. We got off at the Eiffel Tower stop, took some pictures there, and crossed the Seine to a location at the 30km mark of the race route. There we took up our positions again, crowding into the mass of supporters lining the route which passed by along the banks of the Seine. Shane and Sonja and I took a spot on a wall which was part of a bridge and stairway structure which we thought would afford us a better view. From our vantage point, Tara and her fish were very visible but the runners were less so due to the crowds, and we missed the photo opportunities. But our runners saw the fish and the rest of our group greeted them and handed them sports drinks as they passed by. Then we were moving again on the subway, as were most of the other race supporters, jammed like sardines on the tube as we shuttled to the next stop near the end of the course at the 42 km mark. We were all tired from the shuttling and pushing and being jammed up, but thought to ourselves, wow, the girls have to run all this way so what do we have to complain about.
Finally we made it to the 42 km mark, only 4 more kilometers for the runners to go so if they make it this far they will finish the race. So I thought, at least, as we walked along to find a vantage point for our fish and photography. As I walked, paralleling the race course, in a small park, on a bit of a rise on a grassy knoll, I watched the runners pass. As I watched, I saw a runner who appeared to stagger, right himself, then begin to flounder around and falter on very rubbery legs. He staggered on, seemingly unable to control his flapping arms or wobbly legs, and his head flopped about on his neck. Someone must stop and help him I thought, transfixed by the sight, but no, they all ran by. Finally, he staggered a few more feet with his legs failing with evey second, at last pitching forward to the ground face first, legs and arms flailing now with each appendage seemingly having a mind of its own, and still the runners went by him though they did run around rather than over top of him. He lay there, twitching, then trying to rise but his legs would not hold him, nor his arms support him to sit up, though he tried. Up a bit, his legs again buckling, falling back, runners passing, at last in the background 20 yards away the first of a group of red-shirted attendants rushing toward him from the sidelines. He got almost to sitting, legs and arms twitching again, a look on his face that was the very essence of exhaustion, head rolling forward onto his chest, and fell backward as the first attendant elbowed his way through the running crowd to kneel at his side. A second attendant arrived, the runners giving way reluctantly in their course, and I moved on out of sight of the scene. I didn't look back as I couldn't help and I didn't want to bear further witness to the trainwreck of a man's life that I had just watched. And Leanne is still out there, with her friends, in this heat, having now run further than she ever has in her life (22 miles had been her training limit to date) and she must be on the very edge of exhaustion as well. Suddenly the little drama I had seen was the more disturbing, perhaps Leanne was enduring the same stain as I was walking along. I forced that image from my mind, moving forward to the fish and Tara to ask her where the last signal from Leanne was showing, trusting in Leanne's stamina and good judgement. I would later learn from Leanne that this drama had been played out a number of times in the course of the race, witnessed by the girls as they ran. First aid attendants were eveywhere, and quick to aid the stricken. Ambulances were present along the course, with patients in them, runners and spectators alike, suffering from heat and exhaustion. Indeed, we heard sirens all day along the race course, and an ambulance weaved its way through the running crowd and stopped beside the location where I witnessed the stricken runner. It was an unseasonably hot day for the race.
We waited, the little group of our three runners were still together,as shown by the shoe chip locators, as they had committed to be for one another, and moving forward. We waited, 20 minutes in the sun, able to edge closer to the border of the race course as runners passed and their supporters moved on to the finish line. We waited, anxious now, hoping, waiting. Suddenly, 'there they are' someone shouted, not me, and we all looked and there they were indeed. I watched them through the viewfinder as I filmed, smiling and waving their arms, their color was good and neither too red faced or blotchy with exhaustion, wet from head to toe with sweat and having water poured on them at the refreshment points along the course, one cup for the mouth and one cup on the top of the head to trickle down the back in a cooling rush, on they came, even with us, passed us as we waved and cheered, Leanne giving a quick little hop - skip - jump just as she moved out of sight from us and away toward the finish line.
The relief was palpable in all of us watching, as we turned from our vantage point and moved back in the direction of the runners. As we swung through a curve in the park, the width of the race route was in front of us with the mass of runners from side to side, filling the width of the road in a great seething, moving crowd. The road had a bit of a dip, then falling off to the finish line with its great banners and flags and loudspeakers blaring in French and, sight of sights, thrilling and goosebumps for us spectators let alone what the runners must feel, in the haze of the background the great mass of the Arc d' Triumph rising up. Tired as we were, I'm sure I was not alone with a lump in my throat.
On we walked to the finish line, as the runners before us were presented with their medals and t-shirts and had their shoe chips removed. We arrived at the runners exit door from the finish area just as they did, and we stood with them as they smiled and laughed and celebrated their triumph of will and determination over exhaustion and pain. Ear to ear smiles and backslaps and cheers and photos for one and all, then the bottle of champagne was opened that I had carried in my backpack all day. The bottle was hot, and well shaken, so when it opened at least 3/4 of it exited as bubbles, all over the three runners. More laughter, cheers, ear to ear smiles, as they wiped the well-earned champagne off their faces and arms and hair. A perfect end to a perfect morning. The final time for our runners was 4 hours and 45 minutes, but actual running time was about 20 minutes less as they didn't start as the rabbits left the starting line.
Cheers for the runners, and cheers for Tara as the balloon carrier, texting Leanne's I-phone with our positions and telling her and the group where to start looking for the fish. Also for watching the race application on her i-phone to see the positions reported by the shoe chips, so we could position ourselves in front of them.
Later, the runners exhausted but high on adrenaline, we moved forward as a group to pass close by the Arc d' Triumph and down to the subway station nearby on the Champs d' Elyssee, then back 'home' for a shower and lunch. Later in the day, cramps and stiffness setting in for them, and a new sensation of 'peg leg' where the legs are stiff and, if bent, the quads are so weak that they won't hold the weight. The big plans for a party at 'the queen', a gay bar, were put on hold, and a relatively quiet evening was had with a picnic in the apartment with Shane, Sonja, Tara, Leanne, Jan, and I, with a visit from Thera.
Finally, bed at 11:30, after a fabulous day.
