Jose Carlos Rivera

Marathon Notes

Medical wars. 490 BC Marathon. Greece.

The Greeks win the Battle of Marathon to the Persians and someone has to go to Athens to quickly warn of victory. According to the myth, Philippides runs this distance of about 40 km and dies after saving the city from a collective suicide.

Summer 2018. Athens, Greece.

It is noon and I have started walking from the center of the city of Athens, following north to see if I reach Marathon. There are many people and it feels a little overwhelming. I think of the history and origin of the event as a competition, I walk the streets full of shops, displaying the brands that now sponsor sports events. I think of Google maps telling me that the distance between Marathon and Athens was closer to 40 km and how, after searching a bit, it turns out that the now official distance of 42,195Km was changed at the 1908 London Olympics. Everything with the aim of the race passing through Windsor Castle and the royal chair where the queen was waiting. Later, instead of history and myth, numbers and records mattered more ( at little tendency to want to control and measure the world). The myth remains to promote hyperindividualism by way of overcoming quotes and the goddess of victory is relegated to a sports brand. The society of the spectacle, the fictional capitalism and the postindustrial running saying “Hi” to me.
I smile and take a photo for the tourist group asking me. I turn off my phone.

When I turn on my phone and the GPS I realize that I’m at Nea Makri, a coastal city. It’s the morning of the next day and I haven’t even gone through Marathon. Some of the road intersections have taken me to the beach. I laugh and obviously nobody applauds me nor is there a finish line. I watch the sun, still at low altitude. The water is super clear and calm. There are 5 people swimming and I drop myself into the sand. During the journey I have seen 3 shooting stars and I have asked for the same wish three times. Now I really want pita bread and pasta.
I try to assimilate what happened.

The entire last section of the road was full of white flowers. During the night, two figures in the distance had human forms and could have been confused with giants. Other shadows had animal shapes and made me think of all mythology and its beginnings. I had to cover myself at night to sleep safely from mosquitoes and climb the roof of a ruin to have that feeling of shelter and tranquility out of reach of humans. All for having my own time and space. I’m glad I walked at night. A clear night, the stars clothe and accompany. Even my own elongated shadow looked like a friend. And I think of Kathrine Switzer, the first woman who ran “officially with dorsal”. Year 1967, dorsal 261. Escorted and protected by some runners and stalked by the rules of that time, history and literally by men. I think of my women friends who go running alone ,competing or without competing, and are still stalked by men and the social rules of now and of history.
I look at the sky.

A person approaches from behind and offers me a chair in exchange for paying for it and for an umbrella. I smile and move towards a small beach area where a tree located in a beach building gives shade. I relax and feel the touch of the different stones in the sand. I take my time touching them and looking at them one by one. I notice its cold, Its small variety of textures. How they have been polished by time, waves, salt and themselves. And here I am, wanting to live this experience and this space. moving as an act of thinking and as a process, not as a search for any goal. to see, to stop. Moved by the simple act of exploring, of trying to discover something. To know and to learn. To be present. To be aware of my surroundings, an environment that needs to be activated and is not idyllic.
Back to home.