Thursday 2 June 2016

Leiden marathon

I needed a target. Something to get me motivated again after the rigours of the St Oswalds way. Something a bit different, new and not as long. I struggled to decide and in the end I thought sod it I'll just do the Edinburgh marathon - it's on my doorstep, I've never done it, problem solved.  Sadly not. I logged on ready to enter “entries closed”. So much for simple and local.

Some of my running club were plotting a foreign trip. They ran in Germany last year. The tales of the running and drinking were both inspiring and scary. This years venue is Leiden in the Netherlands, a county I've never been to. It's a surprisingly short step from trying to do my local race to going abroad. Filled with sympathy for my ever increasing age Julie is happy for me to go. So I book and then wrap myself in denial and run lots of really fast 10ks in training.

Training didn't go well. There were knee problems requiring several weeks off after my second long run and the increasing realisation that fitting some of the training into my life is hard. There is also the fact that I'm just not scared by the marathon now. My brain tells me you can run 100 miles this is easy. I know it's not true, the intensity of the marathon is so much worse. And then there is the time. I've run 4 marathons in times of 3.45, 3.45, 3.29 and 3.26. In my head I should be able to run 3.15 but that's what I tried to do last time out and missed massively. But even 3.15 isn't a massively enticing goal, the enticing goal is the 2.59 that I don't believe I can do.

So there are some issues with the physical training and the mental preparation.  Then there is my condition on the day. The race was on a Sunday. I went out for drinks with my work on Friday and then had to get up a 4am to fly on the Saturday morning.  I did not arrive in the Netherlands feeling good, I was jaded and really glad there was a group of us to help with the logistics of getting numbers, finding places to eat, navigating around etc. There was a 5k at 10.30 pm on the Saturday with glow sticks and stuff, it sounded fun, everyone headed off, I went to bed.
 
 
 
 

It was probably the best nights sleep I'd ever had in a hotel, but I was knackered. So I woke up on the Sunday feeling ready to go. I'd failed to lay in breakfast supplies so had to pay for the hotel breakfast. This lead to a unpleasant tension between wanting to eat sensibly for the race, and a need to get my €16’s worth. 5 croissants, 3 coffees some cereal and an orange later I feel balance has been achieved.

We all met and walked down to the start. There are 4 of us doing the Marathon and 2 in the half. The weather is overcast and raining a little bit. Compared to last time out in London everything is very easy. The starting system is a bit mental with the half marathon runners starting behind the Marathon runners seemingly with no regard to pace. I stand with Stuart and Nick fully intending to let them go the instant the race starts.  It's impossible to ignore the rising heat and humidity, but I try to, then there is some counting in Dutch and we are off.

And so begins another marathon. With the half runners mixed in and starting behind it feels like I'm being overtaken a lot and it's difficult to keep the right pace.  I'm trying to run 7.30 per mile until half way, it's the vague type of plan that would disgrace the back of a fag packet. Lots of people come past as the race quickly leaves the city, I'm waiting for David and Rhona in the half to come past. This takes longer than I expect, due to the difficult logistics of the start for them rather than any lack of pace. The anticipation keeps me occupied for the first few miles until they pass.  I see a couple of runners from Grantham and say hi, it seems an odd race to meet fellow Brits in, but apparently they are regulars. My other key observations at this point are that, the villages with the little canals separating the houses from the road are cool, lots of people fly the Dutch flag, and the runner shaped sponges out on the course are brilliant. I resolve to keep one nearer the end, but like so many intentions for the race my enthusiasm for it kind of evaporates.

My most pressing issue at this point is that I have lost all feeling in my left arm, this is a new one. I think it's because my watch is too tight, even though it's as tight as it always is. Then I think some more and decide I have a blood clot which is about to hit my brain and kill me.  On balance I prefer the watch hypothesis so I switch it to the other wrist. This stops things getting worse, but it isn't until I get a cold sponge on my arm that I actually get feeling back.

After a while the race splits, the half goes left and the marathon right. This is straight after a pontoon bridge that the army have built for the race to go over one of the many canals -  which is kind of cool.  It's depressing how many of the people who have passed me turn right rather than left. I'd mentally assumed most of those overtaking me are doing the shorter race, the inconvenient truth is that they are not, surely it's too early for my pacing to be going wrong, Anyway I’d started conservatively, it should be me cruising past the numpties who start too fast. Well time will tell who the numptie is – it did – only too clearly.

The race now settles down, there are long narrow roads alongside small Canals, occasionally there is a corner, this is exciting. I'm thrown by some of the noises coming from the canals at first I have no idea and the reeds are thick so nothing can be seen. But I guess that the high rattling quack like sound is the noise of a duck with a Dutch accent. This observation causes both hilarity and agreement when I remark on it later as the key observation from the race.

Very occasionally there is a small hill, either we go over a canal or under a main road, these are high points for me. The locals all slow down and look a bit worried at this upward gradient I make up places cruising past on the uphills.

Even more occasionally there is a village, these are great, there is generally a cheering crowd. They generally shout two things “success” this I guess is Dutch for good luck, or they shout “hup” this I guess is Dutch for come on you lazy so and so, you can do better than this. There is a water or sponge station, and there is a band.  In one village there is a guy dressed as a monk blessing everyone. I solemnly make the sign of the cross when he blesses me, he laughs and I suspect he's not the real deal God wise, I'm not to fussed, by this point my race needs all the help it can get.

It's been apparent to me from just after half way that I was digging deeper into scarce reserves than I should be so early in the race.  I'm facing a mental battle, which to be fair shouldn't be too much of a surprise, this is a marathon after all.  I went through half way in 1:38. Which was kind of where I thought I would be, however my reward for starting sensibly was supposed to be a feeling of strength at this point, this doesn't seem to have materialised. I can now feel my arm, and I'm still running ok, but something has gone wrong, I tell myself it's fine, I know I’m lying.

For a while now I’ve been running without checking my mile splits. I tell myself it's empowerment from the tyranny of the watch, it's not, it's fear. I continue in my denial.   Looking back there is also the very valid alternative narrative that actually everything was fine and a good run was still to be had, but this didn't get a look in at the time. The negativity threatens to overwhelm me, looking back this sounds hugely melodramatic but it felt real at the time, I had massive anxiety about my ability to finish, my brain is telling me in no uncertain terms I am going to fail so I might as well stop now.

I run on, I try to empty my mind,  it doesn't really work. At the next drinks station I walk, I tell myself this is so I can get a proper drink - God knows I need one - and eat some banana. I feel hungry and banana is all that is available, it has a odd aftertaste of oil (olive rather than engine) I don’t know if this is real or my mind messing with me, it seems random to be offering banana soaked in oil, and I don’t generally settle for less than extra virgin.  Anyway that walking through the drinks station to get a drink was a lie, it was to get a walk. I really enjoyed my walk though and ran on stronger for it.

And then I  turned a corner, and there was a headwind, and there was a long straight road, and I thought I was going to break mentally and walk, and then I didn't and then I did.  Again I enjoyed the walk, it felt good to have given up on the race, the pressure went away so after a minute or so I ran on, and I felt good. The wind was strong, I tried to set up some drafting with some of the other runners. Not everyone was keen but eventually I got into a good drafting relationship with a guy in a green vest. Just managing to take my turn at the front was a really good distraction from everything else, and the fact I had someone to work with seemed to give me an impetus to keep going. We ran well for a bit, we overtook people, others tried to join our train but fell away. The we got separated at a water station.
 
The wind was as the organisers predicted "a bummer"
 

I ran on disappointed at this abrupt end to our teamwork, but then the green vest guy caught up again and we ran on. I was feeling good, being part of a team was really helping.  My companion kept talking to me in Dutch, I responded with nods and grunts, but in the end I had to let on that I couldn't understand a word. At this point (in common with pretty much every Dutch runner) he apologised like it was his fault for not anticipating I might be foreign, rather than mine for not learning a single word of Dutch, and then continued our conversation in perfect English. This far into the race I was struggling for perfect English, God knows how I'd have managed a second language.

Unfortunately our new found ability to communicate raised other issues. As we turned a corner he remarked that the wind had died. The only reason we were teamed up was to defeat the wind, and with this wind gone, my role in the team vanished, apparently this was the only thing keeping me going. I was soon walking, then the wind returned.

And from there it never really recovered.  I was briefly lifted by a brass bands rendition of “the lion sleeps tonight” so I sung along but this lasted about 500m.
 

Some shaky pacing

 

The 3:30 pacers passed me. I picked up the pace and tried to stay with them, but the guys ballon with 3:30 written on it kept hitting me in the head, an  unnecessarily brutal reminder that I was missing my goals. Eventually I let them go.

As the route came into town there were a few good parties going on, a guy in a black top told me to stop walking and keep running, and then he told me again in English after I'd explained my language issues. He seemed wise, so I listened and ran the last couple of km to the finish without stopping again.

The finish line was nice, I was on my own so I got my name called out. I had the near obligatory (for me anyway) post marathon cry, and drank some sport drink, then some water and then some beer – they take rehydration seriously at this event. Then I picked up my bag, ate some of the best chips ever, made even better by the fact the guy didn’t moan about me paying for my €2 chips with a €50 note. Then met everyone and went for some post race drinks and recovery. No one had managed what they wanted, a tough day at the office all round.
 
 
 
 

So in conclusion a nice race with lots to enjoy, but once again some serious problems with my ability to run the race. I don’t seem to be able to set the right goal, train consistently towards the goal or develop a sensible pacing strategy to achieve the goal. This leads to a race situation where I'm constantly worried about my pace and all too ready to mentally give up. Leiden is great, as is the Netherlands as a whole, and this is a nice race, especially with better conditions. That said I could have run better, on the day, but I didn't, and I'm not sure what I'd actually do differently next time.

On the plus side I didn't once feel sick and 3 hours after finishing I could walk down four flights of stairs.

Big news in The Netherlands

 

 

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