Six o'clock in the morning, I jumped out of bed, awoken by my cell phone alarm, which I'd set the previous night. After my routine stretches, calisthenics, and now even wake-up yoga, I dressed, limited myself to a small breakfast, and then left my flat. I entered onto the nearby street, which was bizarrely cleared of any traffic or people. Taking advantage of this, I shifted to walking on line dividing both sides of the road - something I loved to do as a kid. Walking further, I heard a thundering noise, and looked up to watch two helicopters sweeping the skies, preparing for their aerial coverage of the city marathon, in which I would be running.
As I headed for the starting line, on a highway bridge known as the VOEST-Brücke, more and more people turned up, each with runner's numbers pinned to their outer clothing. What began with a few people soon turned to dozens, and then, closing in on the bridge, I soon found myself in line with hundreds of others heading the same direction. Parents with children, students, older couples and senior citizens were scattered around the banks of the river, finding places to stretch and warm up. I entered onto the bridge and faced a mass of sportly-clad participants, easily five thousand. They were divided into three running groups - the full, half, and quarter. Having originally planned to meet up with friends I'd hoped to bump into at the race, I quickly realized this would be impossible, so I headed to my section a bit disappointed. I found myself surrounded by, or rather, packed into a mass of complete strangers.
However, side-by-side with strangers, I quickly opened up and began talking to those around me. On my right were two younger runners. Like me, they were both decked out in casual athletic gear, but with their added touch of aviator sunglasses. One was still in school, finishing her fourth year at a HBLA, and her running partner was her neighbor from home who wanted to come along.
As cliché sports songs from the 1980's blared from the shabby speaker system on the nearby stage, I began to zone out, only to be abruptly cut off by the poignant starting shot. We - the mass of a thousand runners and I - slowly began lurching forward, bumping up against each other before the street broadened out. As soon as it became more comfortable to run full stride, I soon became a lazy salmon swimming upstream, and being passed by and by like a grandma driving on a highway.
One unexpected advantage of participating in the marathon was that I obtained a refreshingly new perspective about the city. Running on streets that are plagued daily by heavy traffic and buzzing mopeds, I felt free and unrestrained. I couldn't help smiling when the spectators watching from the sidelines - families with children, grandparents, retirees, pregnant women, neighbors, sent us their cheers and support via drumbeats, clapping, and rattling noise-makers. Even I couldn't resist whipping out high-fives to the kids eagerly reaching out for one.
I, being more hobby than competitive, jogged the whole race, to cross the finish line much more relaxed and less out-of-breath than my competitors. Next year, when in Linz, then I'll be running again for sure!
