A rare privilege today with not one, but
two marathons on the telly, with both the womens' and mens' Commonwealth Games marathons being televised. Of course we were stoked that local defending champ Kerryn McCann won again, but what a finish, with she and Kenyan Cherono-Koskei changing the lead six times inside the last km and a sprint finish!
It was a pity Paula Radcliffe had pulled out, but the other English lass Liz Yelling (how can that be a real name?) did well, leading early and holding on for bronze.
The bloke's marathon was also exciting, with the Tanzanian Isegwe breaking away from the pack in the first 200 metres! He set a crazy pace, with only the Kenyan Fred Mugaka Tumbo (how can
that be a real name?!) staying with him. However, after hitting 20km in 1h and a few seconds, Isegwe pulled up with a hammy. He later (after the entire field had passed him) took off again, and I confess to wondering if Paula was watching this courageous act of "finishing the race for my country". However Paula was vindicated from her Athens pull-out when Isegwe gave in after 35km, having probably done much more harm than good.
The 2:08 Tanzanyan runner Ramadhani moved through the field nicely to win in 2:11:29 from the plucky Mogaka Tumbo, who hung in there with him until the last couple of hundred metres. And another marathon bronze for England with Dan The Man Robinson running a fantastic race, moving steadily through the field to take third comfortably.
The crowd favourite though (apart from the Aussies of course) was St.Helena runner Errol Duncan, who came in stone cold motherless last in 3:11. He also happens to 45 years old - just a few months older than me
My own run today was somewhat more modest - another relatively slow 5km. This really is getting a tad boring, but it's doing the job I think. Tonight's run was good actually - felt really strong and I upped the pace every half a km to finish fast and strong, with a solid negative split.
The surrealism thing still plagues some RC minds here, with one reader suggesting (appreciatively, I think) that I was becoming "Kafka-esque". But for the moment, the endorphins are flying way too thick and fast to concentrate on such lofty thinking, so that will have to wait for another beer night.
Murderous March
