Eliud Kipchoge won the Berlin Marathon on Saturday. You probably didn’t know this if you’re American. That’s fine; marathons don’t make for great spectating, and the Boston Marathon is the only race that really becomes part of the national conversation stateside.
But you’re going to want to hear just how Kipchoge won the Berlin Marathon. That’s the real story here, one both inspiring and maddening at the same time.
Eventually both insoles would become so dislodged that Kipchoge was forced to run most of the race with an insole hanging out of each shoe.
Kipchoge’s shoes. Imagine running like this.
IMAGE: MICHAEL SOHN/ASSOCIATED PRESS
But there was no way to stop. Fixing the problem would waste precious time, and the irritation had grown so great there was no guarantee he’d be able to commence running again once he’d stopped.
And the most important line of the article:
“I had pain in my foot, but what could I do?” he told Runner’s World. “I had to finish the race.”
I commend this journalist for writing about this. It is a shame that deaths of family pets are not seen as the same as the same as family members, when to some – including blind people, they are more than just pets.
I used to own a cat myself, he disappeared one night and never returned. I never found out what happened to him – whether he was adopted or killed, and I guess I never will…
A few weeks ago I lost a close family member to cancer.
Although he had been had been ill for a while with a thyroid problem, until the morning of his death there was no indication that we were also dealing with incurable kidney cancer, nor that before the day was out we would have to say our goodbyes to him and would never see him again.
The family member’s name was Dave and he was just shy of his 15th birthday. He was, of course, not a human member of our family but a feline one (the picture above is a bit of giveaway). He was a valued and much-loved member of the family nonetheless.
Your regular, characterful-but-common-as-muck moggie, Dave was a cat it was hard to dislike. A big bruiser, people said he had the body of a boxer and the face of a rent boy.
Food obsessed, irascible and an ardent lover of warmth (we once found him curled up inside a duvet on a day when the thermometer hit 31C), he was also so ludicrously placid that you could pop him under your arm and squeeze him like bagpipes, or plonk him on your head and wear him like a deerstalker – something, I must admit, I occasionally did. Such was his docile demeanour that everyone from casual strangers to our cat-sitter and vet adored him.
When the end came, however, it came quickly. They day before his death he lay on the bed in the spare bedroom, listless, quiet and off his food. I knew the game was up when he even refused to eat a handful of prawns – his favourite treat.
The following day, a Saturday, he refused to eat again, eschewing food but lapping up water as if he hadn’t drunk for a week. So abnormal was his thirst – I’d only ever seen him drink from the water bowl about twice in 15 years – that we took him to the vet immediately.
On discovering his kidneys were enlarged, he was transferred to another local vets for investigations and by 4pm we’d had the news that he had cancer.
A few hours later, my partner and I were standing in a small treatment room having to make the heartbreaking decision to let him go.
Richard’s insightful look at living with a problem and using it to turn it to your advantage
Whenever something goes wrong or you find yourself at a disadvantage, often the best way to handle it is to turn a negative into a positive. I learned this early on as I struggled with dyslexia, a learning disability that affects reading comprehension.
The Magna Carta was granted 800 years ago. A series of events are taking place on the anniversary – 14 and 15 June – to mark the occasion, including a flotilla of boats sailing down the Thames and a royal appearance in Runnymede, the site of the charter’s sealing all those years ago.
So what is it, how did it come about, and what does it do today?
Roskomnadzor, a Russian government agency that oversees communications and media, threatened late last week to block access to Google, Facebook and Twitter if the social media services don’t hand over data on certain Russian bloggers.
The government agency demanded Google, Facebook and Twitter hand over data about users, particularly Russian bloggers with 3,000 daily readers or more. Rozkomnadzor also asked the services to delete content that promotes protests and other unsanctioned public events, Reuters reported.
You do not know me but I was seated in front of you during the flight from Singapore to Sydney on April 12th.
What I had initially thought to be a routine flight turned out to be a once in a lifetime experience — and it was all because of you.
I am writing this letter to thank you personally.
Being the thrifty Asian that I am, I did not pay extra for a seat next to the emergency exit.
Though it offered more legroom, I couldn’t be bothered to read the special safety procedures. The last thing I would want is to compromise the lives of all the innocent passengers because I do not know how to open the airplane door.
Despite my common economy seat, you offered me a full back massage by repeatedly kicking the back of chair. To date, I have yet to regain full mobility of the lower half of my body. But since I am single, I suppose I don’t have much use for it anyway.
I did not pay for the in-flight entertainment package and I was worried that I might get bored. But my concerns were unnecessary. You were talking so loudly, as if your friend was seated in the cargo hold rather than right next to you.
Perhaps she’s hard of hearing? This might strike you as odd but for the first time in my life, I wished I had a hearing impairment too.
Also, could you tell me where you bought those obnoxious snacks? I assume that they must have been delicious cause you rip one open every 30 minutes.
Thanks for the loud rustling and chewing ambient sounds!
At this point, I thought, “It can’t get any better than this.” But what I had meant as a rhetorical question, you took as a challenge.
For immediately, my nose was assaulted by a putrid smell of death and decay.
The stench was so strong that I turned to check if the old lady seated next to me was still breathing.
It was so nice of you to take off your shoes and put your feet between my seat and the plane window. It must have taken considerable effort – it was a small space but you stuck it as close to my face as you possibly could.
Your kindness moves me.
The sun is rising above the horizon; the sky is bleeding crimson and gold. But I cannot turn to gaze at this everyday miracle because every time I do, I smell the anus of Satan.
I had half the mind to pull down the oxygen mask above me. But then I remembered that I was flying on a budget airline, so I’d probably have to pay extra for that.
Did you know that you have made me a more religious person?
I have said more prayers in that eight-hour flight than I have in my entire life.
I was torn between asking God for strength to endure the rest of the journey and, “SWEET GUAN YIN MA, TAKE ME HOME!”
This experience has been so memorable that I am writing this from my therapist’s office. I have also signed up for ten more sessions to talk about it.
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