Does missing a marathon count as a bad omen?

Last year, I ran the Tusker Lite Rwenzori marathon and it marked a new beginning.

I did not know that when I registered for it. It was supposed to be just another run, another finish marathon, another medal to add to the growing collection of things I have voluntarily suffered for.

But the Rwenzori Marathon became more than that. It became a marker. There was life before that Rwenzori Marathon, and there was life after it. In my head, the marathon became the line between the two.

So naturally, I have been looking forward to running it again. The one year later... type thing. 

There was something symbolic about returning to that starting line after a year. I wanted to see what a year had done. I wanted to remember the person who stood there last year and acknowledge the things that had happened in my life since.

I trained hard and I prepared adequately. I was ready. In fact we can say the 53km Ultra Run at the beginning of this month was preparation for this marathon. 

Then I got flu.

Of all the weeks available in an entire calendar year, my body looked at Rwenzori marathon week and decided this was an excellent time to lower immunity and catch a flu.

At first, I refused to take it seriously. It was just a runny nose, a little congestion, a small headache, a mild sore throat, nothing too serious. Surely I could run 42 kilometres with a blocked nose.

Maybe I could run slowly. Maybe I could start and see how I feel. Maybe the fresh air would help. Maybe flu is a test of my determination. Between this optimism and common sense sat the irritating possibility that honestly I shouldn't run at all.

That really bothered me more than I expected, and it is not because there will never be another marathon. There will be plenty. I have demonstrated a slightly concerning willingness to keep signing up for these things.

It bothered me because this marathon meant something. If running it last year marked a new beginning, what does not running it this year mean? Is that a bad omen? Has the universe cancelled the new beginning? Do I return to factory settings? Was the new life only valid for twelve months, subject to renewal by completing another 42 kilometres?

These are obviously ridiculous questions. Mostly.

But you know what?  We do this all the time. We attach meaning to places, dates, songs, races, anniversaries and little rituals. We turn ordinary moments into landmarks and then return to them expecting them to tell us something about where we are. That is what I wanted from this marathon. I wanted to stand at that starting line one year later and say: Look. We are still here.

Maybe I don't need to. The things that began last year did not begin because I crossed a finish line. The marathon simply happened to be standing there when they did.

And maybe missing it doesn't undo anything. It could even be that there is even something fitting about this year's lesson being completely different from last year's. Last year, perhaps the lesson was to begin. This year, it is to know when not to run, which, for someone who has spent a year learning how to keep going, might actually be the harder lesson.

Still, from where my feet are, or will not be, I would have preferred the medal.