This was my second marathon. Now that I’ve run my first marathon, I knew the beast I was up against. I wasn’t aiming for a miracle, all I wanted was to do a little better than last time and to soak up the Rio vibes, beach, sun, beautiful people, breathtaking views, family, and delicious food. Oh yes, the food, that was the beginning of my downfall, but I’ll get into it later, let’s backtrack a bit.
The Lead-Up
3 months before the trip, I was holding back my laughter as the nurse warned me about the risks of eating street food in South America. When she finished, I politely assured her, “Yes, I know. I’m Brazilian, I’d never eat at those places!” Just like in a movie, freeze frame. Fast forward to Saturday afternoon in Rio. We’re going down the outstanding Christ the Redeemer, our van is taking forever, and right there is a restaurant serving pre-cooked food. Without a second though, I dig in, enjoying the flavors, the company and the view. The damage was done, though I didn’t know it yet. Later that evening, we strolled by Copacabana beach, had a delicious carb-load dinner at an Italian restaurant, and I went to bed happy and ready.
Race Morning
It’s Sunday morning, 5 am. My husband and I are celebrating 20 years of marriage and he’s pacing me. With over 10 marathons under his belt, I’m hopeful for a PB. We start in the dark and just 2km in, sweat pouring down his face, he looks at me and says: “We’re f#$%!”. I’m usually anxious, but at this moment, I feel good, calm even. The energy is flowing, we’re just warming up and people are sprinting past us, but we stick to our plan.
By 4km, though, I feel I want to go to the washroom. I had breakfast and didn’t manage to go to the washroom before the race, but no panic, surely there are porta potties at the 5km mark, right? Wrong. Instead, I start seeing men peeing on the walls. At 9k, I finally spot one, but suddenly, someone says: “This is not for the marathon, this is part of a construction site!” And just before I enter, he locks it. “Can you hold it a bit longer? We’ll pass in front of our hotel at the 15k mark”, my husband asks. I nod, with no other option.
Survival
Without any hope of finding a porta potty, I keep running. At 15km, our hotel washroom saves me. Great, now I can run until the end. But by 20km, after I take my nutrition, an alarm goes off in my digestive system again. At 25k, we find another porta potty, the line takes forever, and when it’s my turn, I can’t get in, it’s impossible, even though I lost so much time, I can’t lock myself with that smell. Truly, when I say I couldn’t take that one, don’t even try to imagine.
We keep moving, now, we’re at Copacabana, it’s so beautiful, there are so many people cheering, the crowd is amazing, but all I can think about is finding a washroom. At 30km, we stop at a paid bathroom by the beach. Thankfully, Beto has his credit card. But when I try to take more nutrition, my body says no. I have to stop again. I get worried, I can’t eat.
Warrior
At 35 km, I know I won’t find another washroom ahead. I decide to keep it simple, water only, and keep moving forward. Around me, Rio becomes a battlefield. I see people running barefoot, people praying and singing, others walking, hallucinating, and I’m struggling. Spectators shouting “Guerreira!” (warrior), and I almost laugh. They have no idea how right they are.
At 40 km, there is the excitement of an influencer high-fiving runners, the finish line almost in sight. I can’t describe the relief of crossing that line with Beto. He didn’t just pace me, he rescued me.
After "Party"
We met my parents and our kids, we got gatorade, a banana, took some pictures by the beach, and tried to get a taxi back to the hotel. There are so many people, it’s impossible to get a taxi so we decided to walk 2 km back to the hotel.
I take a shower, pack, check out, and go to the reception. Is everything ready? Yes! Is everyone ready? Yes, ready to go to the airport. That’s when I sit down and my brain decides it’s safe to collapse. I feel a throbbing headache, nausea and no strength. My mom and my brother-in-law’s mom give me coconut water, water, and saline solution, until I’m stable enough to get in a taxi. Like a dog, head out the window, I survive the ride to the airport. Anti-nausea medication and a bit of food gets me to my beach destination, where I’ll enjoy the sun, waves, pool and family.
I still don’t know how I endured that race. Tim Noakes, a renowned South African sports scientist, calls it “anticipatory regulation” when your brain uses knowledge gathered consciously, such as a looming finish line, to activate safety mechanisms. The brain holds you together and slows you down when it knows the end is near. For me, the finish line wasn't the trigger. It was the hotel checkout.
The pictures are absolutely amazing, though!
Hydration & Nutrition
- Water: every ~3k, whenever there was a water station
- Salt: 3 salt tablets at 10k, 23k, 34k
- Nutrition: 2 Xact bars
- Washroom stops: 5 (2 porta potties inaccessible after waiting, only managed to get in at 3)
Stats
- Moving Time: 4:59:16
- Average Pace: 7:00/km
- Average Heart Rate: 158 bpm
