A SPECIAL TALE FROM OLYMPIA

Two days have passed since my first marathon and I am trying to recall the moments of this unique experience. I remember the doubts in the bus at 05.30 transferring us to Marathon: I knew I was not ready and I was afraid of my injured leg. I remember the feeling when the Olympic flame arrived in Marathon and the moment when we all had to repeat the Olympic oath. I remember looking around the other runners coming from all over the world..

And then we started.

I remember my panic when my leg collapsed after only 6 km and realised that I had to stop or continue despite the pain. I remember the endless never ending uphill. Every time I reached the top of a hill I would realise that another uphill was in front of me.

I remember screaming that this is not possible and that I could not continue running in the uphill. I remember people asking for medical help under the heat and the 22 degrees that felt like 40. I remember the doubt and the panic in my mind when at the 27th km I realised that my leg was so swollen that it was about to explode...and then a 5 year old girl gave me an olive wreath and the courage to continue..

I remember the tears every time we passed a village and the people would encourage us and treated us like heros...and then silence until the 32nd km and the last uphill entering the city of Athens...I switched off my music to listen to the weird sounds of a band that sounded like sounds of war, epic sounds, a sign that Athens was about to welcome us.

And then the last 10 km when I made a desperate effort to accelerate in order to reach my goal of less than 4 hours. I remember the hope that I could make it. But the legs simply refused to follow the mind. I remember repeating to myself that I simply had to continue moving my legs.

I remember thinking of my family waiting for me, of my BORDA friends waiting for a sign that I made it. I remember the pain with every step and the last 7 km felt like hell. I remember seeing Acropolis 1km before the end and all I wanted was to enter the stadium running.

Approaching the end, I remember the moment when I took the final turn and I saw the old Olympic stadium opening in front of me, when I saw my family calling my name, when I saw the finish line and I was there in the stadium of the first Olympic games running about to cross the line of my first marathon recalling the moments of doubt and pain.

All this effort for this moment. and it was worth it.

YES I DID IT.

Mr Kostas - 13 Nov. 2012

Thanks mate, for bringing us with you to legend.