Part 8 -The New York City Marathon

So the next big step for me was to get the M&A transfer loose-ends tied up. Thank God I have a mother like I do. My Mom is just the most incredible and amazing individual on this earth –my everything. The vast majority of the ‘wrapping up’ was instrumented by Mom, and soon M&A was becoming more and more part of our lives. In the time I spent with Nick, I learned most of the skills I would need; I could get by in the kitchen, and the bar was no problem (keeping my skills sharp however would become difficult later on as the staff did more and more). Getting to know customers was a process, and that never ended.

During all this I had made the massive decision to leave [puppy class girl] in order to see how things with [Girlfriend] were (SHE had been hounding ME now, WTF?). It was a seriously big decision and breaking up with [puppy class girl] was really one of the hardest things I have done. Ironically, breaking up with her made me see a part of her that I was desperate for –the soft, sensitive part which she hides so well. There were tears (which I was sure I would NEVER see from her) and much hugging and confusion. The thing is that everything was going well, and it was the last thing that she expected. Of course, in my mind I had all kinds of rationalizations to justify the break-up, but the bottom line was that I was wondering too much about [Girlfriend] and I and wanted to see where we were. [puppy class girl] was very confused and really unhappy, and to tell the truth, so was I. Driving from her house tears came from my eyes, I was crying. This shocked me –I hardly ever get sad enough to cry. [Girlfriend] and I seemed to slip right back into where we were and for a while it seemed really good. As time went on however, I started realising that perhaps this was not the right thing and I felt as though we had lost our connection through all the crap that had happened. It was really difficult to sit down with her again to tell her that I wasn’t feeling our connection anymore. She was obviously extremely sad, and so was I, things were not nice at the moment. Things were really messed up and I wasn’t sure how they would fix themselves up, or if they would. The loss of two wonderful women did, however, leave space for M&A and training. 

So [Bio] and I were firmly focused on New York. It came to pass that I had been included in the Achilles South Africa Team to go to New York for the marathon in November (2008 now). The New York City marathon is always held on the first Sunday in November. I was seriously happy to be going and told anyone who would listen about it. I was also able to pay for the trip myself, which was really something new for me. Training for the run went well until I managed to injure my Achilles tendon. [Bio] said that it was just inflammation, and that there would not be any permanent damage if I kept running. So I kept running. Unfortunately the Achilles was painful in the extreme, and it prevented me running for two months leading up to the marathon. Although I could not run, [Bio] and I continued to do core and leg-strength work. [Bio] seemed positive that I would be ‘fine’. Whereas in the beginning I was looking to run a fairly good time, after the injury I changed my expectations to try to finish under 5 hours, which is really a slow time, but OK for a guy trying to make a comeback from paralysis.

During New York I hung out a lot with Braam and Pieter, the identical twin boys of Braam Mouton (Snr), the organizer of the trip and all round nice guy. The two boys were good fun and not always your typical 16 year-old boys. We chatted a lot and had a good few laughs doing the usual horsing around that boys can do. Good boys those, raised right and with a good sporting (and other) future ahead of them. Eventually I was able to tell them apart, but it was tricky.

New York (and the NYC Marathon itself) was an amazing experience. I met some really great people, and again was humbled by those less fortunate than me. The Achilles group consisted of some very unfortunate guys. There was Keki who was apparently a promising computer programmer before a car accident caused him severe brain damage. He was seriously weak on his left side and did not have proper and full use of his left arm or leg. He was able to walk only in a sporadic, uncoordinated fashion. Although this was the case, he had apparently made massive leaps and bounds in his recovery and rehabilitation. Umzamu was a young guy, I’d say 18 or so, who was completely blind. He was a tiny bloke who was led around by the others (mostly Keki), and warned of holes in his path or steps. Gerrit was a (he claimed) radio DJ from George with only one leg –I verified though that he did in fact only have one leg. He was an exceptionally miserable bastard. Despite the fact that he wasn’t paying a cent for the trip (Achilles SA took his word that he would pay them back, he did not), he complained endlessly about everything and often said that he would prefer not to be there. He was determined that having fun was not as important as doing a PB in the race (he would use a racing wheelchair). Gerrit would consistently disappear at crucial ‘paying points’, like towards the end of dinner or just before we were due to pay the fee for the Liberty Island trip. You know the type. The thing that really got to me was that he would ‘borrow’ money from Keki (a very soft, genial, unsuspecting bloke) and not return it, and Keki was not exactly rolling in it if you know what I mean. Gerrit, much to my delight, failed to do very well in the race and was very disappointed. I know its bad, but I was kind of happy that the guy didn’t do well –he didn’t deserve to.

I cannot remember the name of the other guy. He REALLY liked shiny things and on the last day when they left for the airport he almost ran off with my very shiny (and expensive) Tag watch. Little thief! Anyway, being with a group like this was really odd for me, obviously. To a casual observer I was completely normal, with no obvious handicaps, my limp while walking was pretty much imperceptible (running was still shit though).

Running the race under the Achilles banner is truly something special. The Achilles track club was founded in New York and has over the years had much publicity. Every Achilles runner runs with a ‘guide’. For guys like Keki and Umzamu, a guide was completely needed as they would need assistance to get through the (long) day. To be a guide for an Achilles athlete is a great honour in the US, so there is no shortage of offers. Ironically I (who least needed a guide), had three of them! We took a bus to the start of the race from Manhattan and lined up at the start waiting for our group (consisting of thousands) to be given the all clear to start. I was actually quite emotional about the whole thing and told the guides (Peter, Jeremy, some other guy) so. Not so long ago I was lying in a hospital bed unable to wipe my own ass or dress myself. Now I was going to run the New York Marathon. I would have shed a tear, but we got going before I could dwell on those feelings any longer. This was, after all, a race. And it was going to hurt. Having not run for so long because of my injury I was more than skeptical of my chances of running fast… I told the guides that if possible I would like to run under 5 hours, but that it wasn’t all important as just to be there was incredible. The race started with in a way that only such a massive (30 000 people) race can –slowly.