Under The Tuscan Sun


On The Road

After 5 months of hard-core training and anticipation, Marathon Day finally arrived, Sunday November 26th. I landed in Florence, Italy the Friday before, early in the morning. Well, early for me, 9:30a. My flight left Thanksgiving morning so no Butterball for me. I flew through Chicago and onto Frankfurt, where lo and behold, I connected with three other marathoners, two from Los Angeles and one from Chicago. (The AIDS Marathon Team consisted of runners from LA, Chicago, D.C., and San Francisco.) We shared our training stories, fears, and marathon tips and headed for our "plane" (and I use that term lightly - think crop-duster) for the 1 hour hop to Florence. We arrived to cloudy skies and cold, which did not bode well for the run. Undeterred, we shared a cab to our destination, the Hotel Baglioni. Later that afternoon we met up with the rest of the marathoners who arrived on the group flights.

With one and a half days until D-Day, everyone was excited. I think the Baglioni staff was overwhelmed by our enthusiasm. We were told to take it easy, and not walk around too much or overexert ourselves prior to race day. So, I headed off to the Marathon Expo with my new pal Danny to collect my runner number and race kit. Danny was a seasoned Italy veteran, so he had a feel for Florence and knew exactly where to go. It was all I could do to keep up! We hopped a bus across town to the Expo where we got our gear and checked out the merchandise booths. On our way out, we perused the official list of marathoners posted outside the Expo until we found our names. Yep, we were there - no turning back!

Pre-Race Night - Pasta Anyone?

I began to gather my gear on Saturday. The weather looked awful, dark, menacing rain clouds, a slight wind, and cold, cold, cold. Fortunately, I had brought along multiple layers of running clothes, a bandana, a rain poncho, and three pairs of padded running socks, in addition to my other acoutrements. I did a little sightseeing that afternoon and headed off to the Pasta Party that evening for some carb loading and a little revelry with all the runners. Admittedly I was nervous, so it was good to get a pep talk from the coaches and get some pre-race advice from previous marathoners. The AIDS Marathon staff was phenomenal and they did an excellent job of helping us to get ready both mentally and physically. The partay wrapped up around 9:00p. A few gunners decided to get in a short run that evening, but I declined. It was off to beddy-bye for me, or so I thought.


Marathon Day Arrives

Needless to say, my nerves did not settle and I was up at 1:30a. I think it was a combination of jet lag and anxiety. I tossed and turned and drifted back off around 3:30a. My wake up call came 2 hours later. Breakfast was at 6:30a, and I tried to eat light as having a full stomach weighs me down. But, I also knew I needed the energy for the run so I had a bit more than usual. I ran back upstairs and packed my belt - salty snacks (crackers, pretzels, peanuts), energy gel, energy blocks, kleenex, disposable camera, rain poncho, ibuprofen cream, sunglasses, water bottles with Gatorade, extra socks, and baggies of Gatorade powder for mixing later.

I ran downstairs and outside to the lobby parking lot where there was a sea of yellow AIDS jerseys. Much to our surprise, the cold, ugly weather we had seen had passed. It was cool and just a few clouds in the sky. The race start time was 9:15a and we were meeting up at 7:30a and walking to the staging area. More cheers and good wishes and we were off through the streets of Florence, waking people up with our loud, raucous antics. The staging area was next to the Arno River, so we walked along and got some amazing views.

Once at the staging area we got a look at the "competition" and were in awe. There were scores of elite runners of all ages, creeds, and colors, looking tan, taut and fit, and clothed in various costumes. It was very impressive. Six-thousand runners would be on the course. We picked up our jaws from the ground and scurried over to the porta-potty for a pre-race pee. Once relieved, we had to somehow find our way onto one of the many buses that would take us up the hill to the Piazza Michelangelo, the starting point. This was the most hilarious part of the day. The elite runners were pressing to the front of the line and squeezing onto the first buses that came to the busstop. We were clearly outmatched. So, we called on our secret weapon, Garth, to act as a human battering ram and get us onto a bus. When the third bus came, he sacrificed himself for the team, forced his way to the front, and pressed his body to the door, keeping the wolves at bay. Once the door opened, we pushed on through and barely squeezed in, laughing all the way. It was a scene straight out of a National Lampoon film. Packed like sardines we made it up the hill, and were let out at the Piazza to a beautiful panormic view of Florence. After re-grouping ourselves at the back of the pack, we waited for the start, which came 40 minutes later at 9:08a. And we were off!!

The Run

The sun was shining and the temperature was around 70 degrees. My team, Grete Waitz, stayed together in a pack at the start. We were running downhill the first two miles, through an exclusive neighborhood of small villa looking houses. The residents, which included two adorable 4-foot nuns, were cheering us enthusiastically. Further up the road, the onlookers were cheering "vai, vai, vai." In the heat of the moment we thought they were saying "die, die, die." But, we quickly recalled the coaches telling us that people would be yelling "vai", which means "go!" When we would slow down they would say "quickly, quickly, quickly." There were young and old up that morning, and lots of people cheering us from their balconies and windows in their pajamas and with bed hair and their pets. It was really cute. By the time we hit the bottom of the hill layers of clothes were flying through the air faster than at a half-yearly sale at Nordstrom.

The course was set out in kilometers, so it was difficult trying to calculate distances. The metric system was never my bag. Fortunately, true "mile" markers were set out at 5, 10, 15, 20, and 25. Our group separated into subgroups of 4-5 and I ran with team members Garth, Jennifer, and Eliane. We were on pace and feeling good at the beginning. For me, the start is always sluggish and I get my wind about half-way through. I was worried about refreshments, despite all that I packed on my belt, but there was lots of water at the start and a pretty good tasting sports drink. We passed an elderly couple that had set up their own little snack table outside their small store. They had fruit, pastries, and if I remember water. It was touching - they were so excited to do it. We made their day! The loudest yells came from the AIDS Marathon cheerleaders. These were our coaches, friends and family members who had assembled at various points along the course.

My body began to cry out at the half-way point. Most of the course was on pavement, but it was harder and more unstable than back home. I felt my feet begin to tingle with pain, especially the more I slowed down. Not even the bellows from the crowd of "la bella negra" could appease me at that point. So I made the decision to break away from my group. It was hard because I wanted to fight through together with them. But, I knew I had thirteen more miles to go and if I kept slowing down I'd never rev back up and run through the pain. I slowly eased my way forward but kept looking back as often as possible to make sure they were alright. I connected with a group of AIDS Marathoners from D.C. and ran with them for a distance, ultimately ending up running with Danny and Marlena from LA. They too had separated from their group, but due to injury. Danny was suffering from an I.T. band problem and Marlena a knee problem. I ran with them for about three miles and Garth came along as well. We separated off from them, and set ourselves on a manageable pace.

At about mile 18, Garth and I met two AIDS Marathoners from D.C. We struck up a conversation and one of the runners, began shouting to us that we were "heroes, heroes, heroes." We in turn yelled the same thing back to her. But, she kept saying "No, no, you are heroes, thank you, thank you, thank you." At first, I thought we would continue this cat and mouse thing for the next several minutes. Then she shared that she was a 20-year survivor of HIV and that she had lost her sister to AIDS several years back. She fought back tears and wanted us to know how much she appreciated what we were doing and that our efforts were heroic. Garth and I quickly let her know that she was the hero, hands down, and I was touched by her courage. It was an amazing moment. Imagine this woman getting this diagnosis and at that point in time feeling like life was over, there was nothing left. And there she was, 20 years later, running a marathon in Florence, Italy and at the moment we saw her, running down Via Ricasoli past the Galleria dell'Accademia where Michelangelo's masterpiece"David" stood. Short of the emotion of the moment, she looked strong, vibrant, and healthy. In fact she looked like she could hoist me on her shoulders and carry me the last 8 miles! And on any other day I might have asked her to! Meeting her reminded me, once again, why I was running and all thoughts of achy feet and muscles faded away for the time.

The final few miles took us out of the city and into an expansive and breathtaking park. And when I say breathtaking, I mean breathtaking -- all my breath was gone! The park itself was gorgeous, and reminded me of Central Park. By this time, the runners had dwindled and the elite runners were across the finish line, and resting somewhere with their feet kicked up and a bottle of chianti. In the park we were supposed to reach the 20 mile point and it seemed like an eternity before we did. Garth and I separated, and I ran the balance of the course alone. I would encounter runners here and there, but most people by this point had decided to walk it in or go at a nearly walking run pace. The park route was essentially a large U, so as I made my way down the neverending straightaway I knew what was waiting for me on the other side. It was only 3-4 miles but it seemed like every mile I had run up to that point was re-packaged into the park route. I felt like I was on the Bataan Death March, nothing but a long, hot trek before me. To make matters worse, I ran out of water and most of the water stops were depleted. It was really pitiful because the park was so lush and green and I could see myself sprawled out on the grass with a good book on any given day, but I couldn't truly appreciate it. Runners were struggling all around me. By this time of day, around 1:30p, it was much hotter and we were running in direct sunlight. I started to feel dizzy and nauseated, so I knew dehydration was setting in. I beckoned to a passing runner who shared some water with me and I was back in action.

Out of the park, the last miles were seemingly insurmountable and I thought about sitting down on the curb several times. My feets had failed me and were on fire. Oddly, the faster I would run the less they would hurt. It was only when I slowed down that they began to throb. But, it was all I could do to push myself to go faster. An AIDS Marathon coach came up to me and cheered me on, telling me I had 2.5 miles to go. For the record, it was not 2.5 miles. I'll never believe that!! Everytime I turned a corner I would look for the finish line and nada. This went on forever, forever I say. The Italians really stuck it to us at the end. When I did turn that last corner at the Piazza Santa Croce I finally saw the bright, blue, blow-up finish line. Or so I thought. Once I got there, I had to turn another corner onto a red-carpet and the end of this carpet was the true finish line! Nevertheless, I crossed the finish at 5:54 hrs and grabbed my medal.

I'm A Marathoner

I met up with my teammates and we all reflected on our experience and tried to soothe our aching and rapidly tightening muscles. There were many AIDS Marathoners left out on the course. It didn't feel right going back to the hotel, knowing that there were others still out there struggling through, and I recalled how lonely my last 2 miles were. So, a group of us stayed behind and Danny and I walked back out onto the course to encourage those that were making their way in. They were battle weary, but relieved as they meandered back. I saw one guy who had injured his hip and walked with his body tilted to the side, in obvious pain. He crossed the finish line. The marathon staff began to take down the finish line and course markers, and it was getting dark, the crowds and other runners long gone. We had word that there were approximately 10 AIDS Marathoners, out of our original 425, still out there. With the course shutting down and no markers, they had gotten lost. We didn't want them to suffer the indignity of having run all those miles without someone there at the end to cheer them home. So we waited it out, about 15 of us, and set up on the red carpet with signs in the dark. Garth and I were about midway on the carpet and another group was at the finish line with medals they had requested from the marathon staff. The last runners came on through in a blaze of glory from all directions. We feted them and headed off for our long walk back to the hotel with our medals snug around our necks.

With that, it was done. I'm a marathoner. I hobbled around for a few days, popping Tylenol PM and vicoprofen, but the pain was completely gone by Thursday as was the great weather - the Tuscan sun was no more. We had a grand feast at a restaurant called Trattoria 4 Leoni on the Tuesday following the run. The waiter, Marco, grabbed the menus from our hands and set about to create a feast for champions, while setting the mood by playing music by The Doors. The chianti was flowing (finally!), the food exceptional, and the mood was festive, a perfect ending.

One of the coaches sent a post-marathon e-mail with the following quote: "Pain is temporary, but pride lasts a lifetime." I would agree. This was an amazing, amazing experience I will always remember. I'm still shocked by the fact that I, a person who is the epitome of the phrase "non-athlete", the one who detested exercise in all its variations, actually completed a marathon. As I travelled through Italy, I would tell people I had run the marathon and there was instant excitement in their eyes. I felt like a rock star, even with my 5:54hr time!

But the true stars are people like the woman from D.C. and others from our contingent who are fighting a daily battle against AIDS and living their lives to the fullest. Someone told me before I headed over not to let a "fat lady" or "one-legged runner" beat me. And that I should run to win, that I have an ego to protect. But, it was never about any of that for me. I'll catch the Kenyans next time around. I went to be a blessing to others and to be blessed in return by the experience. And I have been blessed many times over. People would also ask me why I was running, if I knew anyone with AIDS. Well, yes I do. I know of millions of people with HIV/AIDS. I know of them all too well. And hopefully, the contribution I've made will help at least one of them "run" another day.


Best,

Rochelle (aka La Bella Negra)


Pictures Galore:

You can see photographs of my running adventure by clicking the following link (once on the page, CLICK "SLIDESHOW" to view them more easily):

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You can also see photographs of my further misadventures in Italy by clicking on the links below (again, CLICK ON "SLIDESHOW"):


(1) Tuscany (Florence and Cortona [site of my favorite film, "Under The Tuscan Sun"])

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(2) Rome

http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=0AbOGbFw4cN2LmI

(3) Venice

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Let me know if you have trouble with any of the links. You can e-mail me at tuscansole@yahoo.com. Enjoy!