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August 24, 2004 3:26 pm

Column: `Marathon' takes toll on reporter

By SCOTT PITONIAK

Gannett News Service

ATHENS, Greece - I'm told there was an earthquake here Tuesday afternoon that registered four-something on the Richter scale.

I swear to Zeus I didn't feel a thing.

Had to be a myth.

Either that or I've reached the point of fatigue where I'm so comatose I might not feel something in the eight or nine Richter range, either.

And, if we did indeed experience an earthquake, I probably should be ticked.

Hey, nobody briefed us about any stinking earthquakes during our Olympic preparations.

Terrorists attacks? Yes.

Crazy taxi drivers? Yes.

Heat and humidity? Yes.

Anti-American sentiments? Yes.

Journalists with body odor problems? Yes.

But earthquakes? No way!

The good news is the last I looked, the Parthenon is still standing. Not surprising, really, considering the architectural wonder that stands sentry over this city of 5 million had to have survived a serious tremor or two during the past 3,000 years.

The Parthenon is good inspiration for we journalists whose legs have become wobbly handling the daily tremors of these Olympics. As the games prepare for their finishing kick, many of us caffeine-propped-up scribes are starting to feel like the ancient Greek herald who ran 26 miles to deliver the news that the war had been won. He promptly dropped dead. We're hoping, of course, that a similar fate doesn't await us.

After 10 flights, 19 cab rides, 19 bus rides, two train rides, 35 stories, 15 weblogs, 100 miles worth of walking, 10 pounds lost and zero days off in two weeks here, I'm running on empty. But that's the nature of covering an Olympics. This is the journalistic equivalent of running a marathon at a sprinter's pace with your laptop bag on one shoulder and your overnight bag on the other.

There are occasions, particularly if you are focusing on one beat, as I am with women's soccer, when you feel totally out of touch with what's going on at the Olympics.

Tom Pappas pulled out with a bum foot?

No kidding.

The U.S. basketball team lost two games?

You don't say.

Rulon Gardner was nearly upset in his first match?

Get out.

I often feel as if you folks back home have a better handle on the big picture than we do. You know what's going on in all five rings, while many of us are focusing on one ring.

It's dawned on me that reporting on an Olympics could be considered an Olympic event, too. (You scoff, but wasn't ballroom dancing a candidate?)

This assignment involves heavy lifting (hey, hoisting Heinekens can take a toll on your wrists and elbows); sprints for buses, trains, taxis and planes (OK, brisk walks); quote jostling in the crowded interview area known as the mixed zone, and speed typing.

The most exciting sportswriting event, though, could be the discus toss, in which laptops and phones are sent flying impressive distances when reporters can't find a line to transmit stories.

Now, it may read as if I've been taking too many swigs of the complimentary Ouzo, but I swear to Bacchus, the party animal god, that this is entirely the result of sleep deprivation.

My only concern about sleeping is that I'll be so out of it that I won't even feel one of those quakes in the 8 or 9-range.

Oh, well. Just wake me when it's over.

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