Νενικήκαμεν (for the most part)

The battle was over.  I had made it as far as I was needing to go.  The only thing to do, was return.  I started off from the shores of the Aegean Sea as Pheidippides did 2491 years ago (give or take a month or so).  I ran and ran.  I jogged and trotted.  I stumbled over stones. Weaved through traffic.  I just kept going and going.  Not much to say about the journey itself.  Lots of hills, wind and rain.  But no one else.  I did pass a myriad of staring pedestrians.  I could only imagine what they were thinking.  "Where were you yesterday?"  "Has it really taken you this long to finish?"  It had taken me this long.  Because I had done something that, most likely, no one has done since the Persia's last assault on this area.  I marched to Marathon and subsequently ran back. 

And I did it alone.  No gun to set me off.  No starting line to cross.  No timing chip to keep track.  No refreshments along the path.  

As I turned into that city itself, no one took notice.  No one cheered.  They held back there "bravos" which had filled the air the day before.  There was no welcome committee.  No podium to mount.  No metal to receive or T-shirt to don.  

Ran to a stadium void of spectators.   

However, it was not fruitless.  Bountiful orange trees lined the finish.  And it was eagerly received. And there, on the ground, among the discarded plastic bottles and rotting banana peels, I retrieved my laurels.


I cannot say I have finished a marathon.  I cannot say I have done THE Marathon.  Nonetheless,
  I can say I have Run Marathon!