DmitriyAS
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I’ll spice up the “dry” tournament theme with my marathon (or rather, half-marathon) story.
It happened around 1992 or 1993 (I don’t remember exactly). My classmates and I went on a week-long vacation. We stayed at a resort, and there were many of them on Lake Kandry-Kul (a gem of Bashkortostan). One beautiful evening, the male half of the vacationers decided to go for a run. We decided to run around the lake, which, by the way, is 22.5 km.
But, as it usually happens, by 6 a.m., after “yesterday’s festivities,” only two out of ten were ready (I was one of them). The other potential participants, in response to our attempts to “wake them up,” wished us success in our future endeavors. They can be understood, because on their list of desires at that moment, a 22.5 km run was ranked somewhere around a millionth place.
We only slept for 2 hours and weren’t really sober. We didn’t have breakfast.
Of course, I couldn’t find my sports shoes and put on the “first thing I found.”
I think it’s unnecessary to say that neither of us had any running training for such long distances, although we were friends with sports.
In the end, it all turned into 1 hour and 37 minutes and another “youthful” foolishness, without which life wouldn’t be life.
To say that everything hurt afterward would be an understatement.
Now, in the event of such a run, I think it wouldn’t be out of place to leave my blueprints to my family and friends so that they can put me back together correctly later…
That’s my marathon story.
Well, I didn’t really have a point, it’s just that my mood is, as always, great...