City of Light: Chronicle of the Paris Marathon

A chronicle by Roberto Mesa, Urban Runner, about his participation in the Paris Marathon.

Sunday, April 3, 2016, started for me at 5:45 in the morning. The start time for the Paris marathon was 8:45 for the elite and 9:20 for a humble runner like me. I wanted to eat breakfast more than three hours before my start to avoid stomach problems during the race.

Get ready with "Marathon" items from BeUrbanRunning!

Sergi, Judith, and Guillermo accompany me to the start, wanting to experience the pre-race atmosphere and see how the Champs-Élysées fills with runners and spectators before becoming empty of runners after the starting gun.

We take the subway, hoping there isn't too much of a crowd and nothing strange happens (on Friday, on our way to pick up our bibs, we had to evacuate the line due to a suspicious package).

The Arc de Triomphe

Everything goes perfectly, and in about 20 minutes, we stop at Charles de Gaulle to meet the Arc de Triomphe, a direct witness each year to a spectacular start. I'm very nervous, more than usual before any other marathon. The reason is that on Friday and Saturday we did a lot of sightseeing in Paris, and my legs were very tired.

I knew it would take its toll; the question was how much it would affect me. But since I was in Paris, I wasn't going to stay at the hotel and wait, right? The elite start time approaches, and I say goodbye to my companions (thanks for the company at those moments), who are going to watch the start.

I enter my corral. Although there are 35 minutes until my turn to start, I prefer to go in now and soak up the atmosphere and stretch a bit.

Place de la Concorde

If you look forward, Place de la Concorde with its great obelisk. If you look back, the Arc de Triomphe. Paris is an impressive city, and I'm eager to start running. The public address system is in French, English, and Spanish. They are starting the countdown for the professional start, those who run at less than 3'/km and seem to be from another planet.

The shot and the song "Chariots of Fire" signal that the party has begun. After the elite start, the other corrals leave in a staggered and orderly manner. Thanks to this, we can say that in Paris, despite running with 50,000 other people, there are no crowds or problems moving on the ground. The time to start approaches. When the corral in front leaves, we walk until the first ones are under the starting arch.

The music doesn't stop after the first start, which keeps you fully immersed in the nerves present before each race. The atmosphere doesn't cool down. Ten minutes later than expected, I pass through the starting arch. That's it. I'm in the race, up to my neck. It's time to relax, to think about how beautiful it's going to be. The time to suffer and think about what's left will come later.

Champs-Élysées

It begins on the cobblestones of the Champs-Élysées, downhill. Running on cobblestones is a bit uncomfortable, but I'm not going to complain, that would be foolish. That setting makes you feel professional and reminds you that those who manage to reach Paris in the Tour pass through there, when it's all smiles and the winner is already drinking champagne.

Before completing 1,500 meters, you are already on flat ground and pass through Place de la Concorde. To the right is the Luxor obelisk that Egypt gifted to France back in 1830. The next 3.5 kilometers are along the Rue de Rivoli. People gather on the sidewalks cheering already in the first kilometers.

Place de la Bastille

At the fifth kilometer, I found one of the indelible scenes of this marathon: passing through the Place de la Bastille. Although at first people are kept away from the runners by safety fences, the commotion is brutal. And when you circle the square and are about to leave, people are crowded together, and the passage narrows, as we can see in the Tour itself.

They leave you a corridor where you feel as professional as those who will beat you by more than two hours in the general classification. A dose of energy that will be needed later. Once you leave the Bastille, the route doesn't offer anything of the most famous sights of Paris. But it is charming to run through areas that tourists probably never visit. Old and imposing buildings are at that moment witnesses to our steps, apart from the public gathered in the streets, which is not small.

Bois de Vincennes

At kilometer 9, I reach the first of the two woods I'll have to pass through to complete the race. It's the Bois de Vincennes. And it's spectacular. Grass, lakes, paths where people run, who knows if they're preparing for the next Paris marathon. And here the race profile starts to climb. After a few initial kilometers through Vincennes, the hills and the lack of cheering (forest areas are where the presence of cheering people decreases) begin to take their toll. You want to see the city again as soon as possible.

You enter Vincennes at kilometer 9 and leave at kilometer 19. Although there were some musical bands to liven up the passage, this area felt endless to me. At least after doing the first five or six kilometers inside. I see the 19th kilometer marker and we return to the city. The gradient starts to go down a bit, and the heat is intense.

It turned out to be a completely sunny morning with hardly any clouds, after it rained for much of Saturday. The first psychological point is about to come, and its proximity is announced by an intermediate sprint I see in the distance.

The 21.1 kilometer mark

I'm about to complete half the race and pass the 21.1 km mark. I check my watch after passing and see that I'm following my training pace exactly, which gives me confidence. My legs, against all odds, are doing well. I don't feel the fatigue from the two walks on Friday and Saturday. The pain from the injury I've carried throughout the preparation isn't appearing.

Almost at kilometer 23, we pass through the Bastille area again but on the opposite side. The route leaves the main road. We enter a path that will take us along the tunnels of the River Seine for about five kilometers. It's a complicated moment in the race. First, because the legs start to complain, and second, because passing through the tunnels is a constant up and down.

The slopes awaiting at the end of each tunnel are very steep. People crowd on the bridges crossing the river and cheer along with those on the banks. It's time to grit your teeth and be aware that the hardest part is coming, but also the most beautiful.

The Eiffel Tower

I glimpse the Eiffel Tower, although it's visible almost from the moment you leave Vincennes, but this time it looks very close. I know that at kilometer 29, next to the tower, my seven companions are waiting for me. I'm eager to see them and face the tunnels with great optimism.

To my left, I leave Notre Dame behind. The view from there is spectacular, and there are signs telling us to look left to contemplate it. Further on is Orsay. Leaving the bridges is special. After moments of almost total darkness, at the exit, you find a hill and a crowd of people. The public, who know these are tough moments, cheers you on with great enthusiasm.

I'm reaching kilometer 29 and my eyes are wider than ever. I know my friends are around here and I need to see them.

My friends

To the left is the Eiffel Tower, which you can't help but gaze at in amazement because running beside it is very special. A little further on, I look to my left and, perched on a wall, are Sergi and Guillermo. I go over to high-five them. I don't care about the time I lose; I haven't come to set a record, and they deserve me to stop with them, even if it's for 20 seconds.

They encourage me. It's a special moment because I know they are part of my race, and I need them. They tell me the others are just ahead, so I carefully cross to the other side of the street and greet Ángela, Judith, Adrián, Dani, and Gema, who have bothered to come and see me pass. They take some photos in an unparalleled setting. I high-five them, and they continue to cheer me on.

It's a real surge of energy, of adrenaline. You don't know how much those moments are needed until you experience it from within. I continue my journey. I know that at the 36km mark, Judith, Ángela, and Adrián are waiting for me. That will be another moment to recharge my strength. Now the 30km mark approaches, the psychological 30km. The wall, the physical and psychological slumps. The last stretch of the race.

I believe the person who said the marathon is a 12-kilometer race that starts at kilometer 30 is right. I try to only think about reaching the next one. I pass 30km, and my legs feel heavy, very heavy. But even so, I expected to be doing worse than I was. I set a pace where I'm comfortable and start counting down kilometers instead of counting them up.

Bois de Boulogne

At kilometer 33, I enter the Bois de Boulogne. These are the last nine kilometers of the race. I know I was a bit fed up with Vincennes, but I also know that this forest brings me much closer to the finish line. The elevation gain starts again. In this area, there's more cheering than in Vincennes. Some "Fan Zones" have been set up there, and there are people spread almost along the entire route. I've slowed down.

Now I'm aware that I'm going to make it. In the following days, while my legs ached from walking so much, I wondered if I would manage to finish. Now I knew I would make it. Inside Boulogne, I just wanted to reach kilometer 36 so I could see some of my friends again. With that idea in my head, I keep moving forward. I see the sign announcing kilometer 36, and I open my eyes wide again. I see Judith, Ángela, and Adrián and I stop with them for a few seconds. They cheer me on again, and Ángela gives me a small bottle of water. I had one from the previous aid station in my hand, but it was already half-empty.

There were still four kilometers to the next one, and the heat was stifling. I genuinely appreciate that bottle because I managed to reach kilometer 40 with a little water. The fourth 10k was over. I see the 40k sign, and there are only 2,095 meters left. Those last meters are done almost without pain, knowing that the reward for months of preparation awaits. I remember the Sunday runs, the 25, 28, 30-kilometer ones... those where you run alone and there's no crowd to applaud you.

Nor are there ones where you get a finisher's medal. But they are essential to be able to tell what it feels like every time you finish a marathon.

Allez, allez!!

I leave the Bois de Boulogne. I head down Avenue Foch, parallel to the Champs-Élysées. In the background, the Arc de Triomphe once again witnesses our strides. But this time we are on our way back. This time we are facing it, not turning our backs. On the sides, people are cheering. Allez, allez!!

Emotions well up, and I don't know whether to laugh, cry, or do nothing. In the end, I think I do a little of everything. But what I don't forget is to point to the sky to dedicate this finish to him. One more. I know he has helped me again.

Finish line!!!

No matter how many times you finish a marathon, the emotion and pride never fade. I've done it again, despite the fears, the self-doubt, or whatever such a long race might bring. I grab water, my medal, and my finisher's shirt and walk towards the exit of the Arc de Triomphe.

"Today that name is more justified than ever, at least for me. I finished 25,940th out of 50,000. But for me, I won."