Races – Page 10 – Run With Dai

Brecon Beacons Ultra Trail

Published on May 8, 2018May 8, 2018 by runwithdai5 Comments

This event was the first I’ve done as a result of social media shortly after I discovered Instagram and decided on my running challenges for 2018, A post by @lil_em_loves_to_run sparked my interest…

It would was to serve as a good training/baseline to kickstart my training for the Alps later in the year. The run was sold as a 32 mile ultra with a ‘strenuous ‘ difficulty rating. What does that even mean? Who cares, it was £55 which I think is damn cheap. I booked it and pretty much ignored it as it was so far in the future. Sometime later my sister was talked into signing up for the half Marton as part of the event. That would be fun with her.

May soon arrived I’d planned to do some hill training, but I hadn’t. I generally felt good, although I was intimidated by the elevation and climbs. I needed to experience some hills though. My parents had arranged to come up for the night so we all stayed in a hotel in Talgarth the night before and they’d be waiting at the finish line along with my sister. This would be the first time my family had joined me for a run, and also the first have done in my home country! The hotel had a tiny chip shop attached to it, so we prepped with some greasy fish and chips and a beer, got an early night and I headed down to the start to register at 6:30am.

Race T collected, number 39 for the day. Despite the predicted warm temperatures, it was very cold at that time so I’d layered up to keep warm. Soon I was spotted by Camilla and Dorota from the Cool Catz group. These cats get everywhere. It was the first time I’d met Dorota, she would also be running the ultra and Camilla the marathon (crazy cat had signed up just one week ago). We listened to the race briefing, From which I took “you’ll go up Corn Du” 3 times and “you don’t need the wet gear from the mandatory kitlist”, I had no choice at that point but to carry what I’d brought. The only other thing of note here was that the half marathon was actually 15.5 miles my sister would kill me when she discovered this!

Outside we went, a quick photo of the cool cats and we were off. Dorota and I started off together at the back, chatting and getting to know one another. The race started in Gileston farm in Talybont-on-usk and we headed out on the Taff Trail heading out towards the Talybont Reservoir. After about 4km we came across the first checkpoint, I thought this was a little early in the race, but it was also served in the kother distances so I’m sure the half and 10k runners would have appreciated it more than I did! We didn’t stop. Very soon after though we were upon the reservoir. A very picturesque scene indeed and many runners stopped to take pictures. This actually helped thin the crowds out a little bit!

We carried on along the Beacons Way (parallel to the TaffTrail Trail) and continued along side the reservoir which presented us with some incredible views. As we reached the end, probably around 6 miles in, I said my goodbyes to Dorota and we continued on at

our own pace. I spent some time briefly chatting with a group of guys running together and we shared some stories before shortly after I hit the second checkpoint. They carried on but I I stopped for some coke, Yes, and a few jelly beans and continued onwards. At this point the ultra and marathon routes headed left, with the half marathon turning right to loop around the reservoir back to the start. I stopped to capture a picture of this sign, there was no ice cream. They lied. Briefly we were back on the Taf Trail before heading across fields towards the Beacons Way again. All around us were spectacular views of the mountains and the uncertainty of not knowing which we’d have to climb! I passed the guys again and carried onwards, smiling away and sing my little song that I had on loop in my head that went “gonna shit in a portal, dum dum, gonna shit in a portal, dum dum”. I don’t know why, and I don’t know to what tune, but it made me smile.

The path at this point was covered with trees and fresh smells, we were heading towards Rain Gauge and the old Filter House which is where we’d turn left, toward the first climb. We cossed the Taf Fechan and the climb was in sight. It was steep. I could see people going up all the way, runners and hikers. Out came my poles. This was the first time I’d used poles. I brought them to try out ready for the CCC. Mine are the highly rated Black Diamond carbon z. And damn they were light. I wore them horizontally across my back in a Salomon Pulse waistband. I hardly felt them. ‘Poling’ upwards I chatted to a lady from Leicester about her trips to the Beacons as a child and her running adventures. We got to the top, passed the tourists and off she went. I spent a few minutes thumbling with the poles and made a mental note to put them away just before I summit next time. I was now stuck in a narrow single file track, occasionally having the space to overtake. The views were beautiful. Ridgeway everywhere. Looking down on the gauge we really were being spoilt up high as we traversed the Craig Fan Ddu towards Corn Du.

Arriving at Corn Du it was getting busy with tourists, and the heat was getting intense. A picture of the Welsh flag and a sharp hairpin turn, it was time to go back down from Corn Du

Bwlch Duwynt. Now this was fun. Loads of people walking up, and me, free running down. I was smiling. I was humming and bumbling tunes out as I skipped and jumped all the little breaks in the path, weaving my way through the crowds and thanking the occasional cheer and supporter. I say it was fun, within a minute, I could feel the burn in the quads, and the pain of the impact in each ankle. I soon wished it to be over. I was overtaken by this dude who was flying down! When we reached the bottom and checkpoint 3 I commented so. He laughed, said the uphill were the problem. I stocked up on water, had some crisps and sweets, joked with the volunteers and headed off again, with a toilet stop in the public toilets I was good to go.

The route briefly followed the road before we turned back in on the paths and it was time to head up towards Corn Du again. We started off heading up, then briefly back down before the climb started properly and the poles came back out. I passed the down hill sprinter and joked that I’d see him on the next downhill (I did!) And up I went. This time I was huffing and puffing. Sweating like a bitch and I could feel the ache in my arms from using the poles. I was drinking a lot to combat the exhaustion and heat. The top looked and age away, and then I noticed the runners doing another sharp hair pin, we weren’t going completely to the top this time, as it was yet again time to descend. I took a moment to enjoy the views again and started chating to a guy from Wrexham doing his first ultra. We ran together and we’re soon in a little group of runners descending down Llyn Cwm Llwch. Most of them got ahead of me on the down hills. I was finding this tough and coming to the conclusion that I’m not that strong on the downs. I could feel my body fighting the gravity and I must have been afraid to relax into the ‘fall’ , the uneven terrain was a fear for me. We carried on along Cwm Llwch, getting closer and closer to ground level.

As we reached the village of Modrydd there would be a stretch along public roads. Narrow roads. This was undulating and I could see many runners walking the little inclines. I kept telling myself I’d go so far then walk also, but I kept moving the goalposts, deciding that I was fairly strong on this type of road and I’d keep going, racing, putting some distance between me and those who were stronger on the down hills. Rounding the turn at Three Rivers Ride, it was another steep incline to a car park (start of another public path), there was a runner sitting at the bottom changing his socks, he laughed as I looked up and said “fuck that” and started walking. At the top, Checkpoint 4. This was a biggy, checkpoint 5 was 15kms away, with only a emergency water at the top of Pen Y Fan. I filled the bladder and bottles, ate some stuff and moved on. I made some videos to share on Instagram to occupy my mind as I looked up at the biggest climb of the race, Pen Y Fan loomed in the distance. I looked at my watch, I’d been running for 4hrs and 20mins at this point. I was curious how long it would take to walk.

I was huffing and puffing away, occasionally chatting to other runners and hikers as I powered up. I thought we’d reached the top at one point and had a little run, but to my annoyance we were barely half way, ahead of me it was even steeper than before. I Pen Y Fan Halfway

dipped into the babybel stash, I needed a salty pickme up. I was also conscious now that I was out of electrolytes. For some reason I didn’t bring any additional ones with me. I don’t know why. I no longer had the tasty escape from just plain old water. I wanted coke. Checkpoint 5 was a long way away. Nearing the top I had to scramble. Hands and knees over big rocky steps. I was there.

At the top of Pen Y Fan, the views were spectacular. I first sat and chatted to two hikers as I caught my breadth. Then I wandered around the top taking some pictures. Unexpectedly I could hear my name being called. What the…. It was Camilla! We hugged and laughed and enjoyed the views together before setting off down the Beacons Way away gain towards Fan Y Big. I was running and enjoying and I felt bad, I’d forgotten to say good by to Camilla, I looked back up and waved, she didn’t see me. I carried on, more down hill, but, in my mind, the last down hill, or so I thought. Before Fan Y Big, we turned off the main paths, we were going to go up again. I felt cheated. I accepted I’d misinterpreted the instructions at registration, running up to Corn Du three times did not mean only 3 hills to run. Stupid me. Oh well, up again I went up Craig Cwareli.

I passed two guys having a break and would see them again at the top when I decided to walk for a bit. We shared some chat about poles and equipment and I fell in line behind them as we ran the rocky ridgeway. It was tough underfoot, then the guy in front rolled his ankle and and yelled in pain. We stopped. He was alright, annoyed more than anything. I carried on out front. Then it was my turn and I did the same. We decided to walk through it, and enjoy the views.

Eventually the path was good enough to run again, heading along Flordd Las. It was soft and muddy. It was good. I felt stronger on this down hill than all the rest. I think it was the knowledge that the final Checkpoint and the coke I craved was just a few miles away. I could see runners all ahead, like individual targets to chase down and pass. And I did. One by run I sought them out and caught them. Until I got some serious cramp on the inside of my right quad. Normally in races, and earlier in this one, when I get cramp I power through. But this one was worse than I’ve felt before. I had to stop. A runner passed me and offered help to stretch have me, I told him it would be OK and I hobbled on behind him. I then felt so bad when he slipped in the mud and fell in front of me. It was funny to watch but I sensed it hurt and he was annoyed. He refused my assistance too and we carried on.

We crossed through some fields and painful climbed over some stye before the oasis of Checkpoint 5 presented itself. It was busy. We were all grabbing at the coke and sweets. Spirits were high and a lot of thanks to the volunteers were given. I checked, we had 6 kms to go, down hill and along the river. I text my parents, eta somewhere between 30-40 min. Onwards for the last time.

As we headed to Pencelli, where we’d pick up the Taff Trail back to the finish (start) I passed along and chatted to more runners. We were all on the high of knowing it was the final stretch. Along the river I picked some more targets and chased them down. A few would stop to walk and I felt like doing the same. It had been 7 hours. I was fatigued and my mind was ready to give up. I kept fighting the urge to walk. I was on race mode again, unnecessarily not wanting to lose a position in the final standings. Pointless, but that competitiveness kept me going. Up ahead another runner and a little incline as the path split, we were being directed off the path. I had the idea I’d stop st the top and have that walk. Only, I asked how long left a land I was told 300m. This changed my mind. There would be no stopping now!

The final stretch have winded down some farm roads. Plenty of supporters were out clapping and cheering. I clapped and thanked them all, rounding the bend through the car park entrance and to the finish line. I put on my pose, cheeks puffed, arms out and waddled across the line. Past my father and sister and cameras, passed the medals. Then they all called me back. I was in my own world.

I spent some time with my family who’d set up camp with their picnic of food. I went in and ate loads of crisp sweets and chocolate, chatter to runners I’d passed along the final stretch. Talked about the Ballache that was the third climb. Smiled and congratulated each othe. I also spent time getting pictures with my sister and enjoying hearing about her run. I was conscious Camilla could be finishing anytime soon, but it was time to leave. I went to the toilet, grabbed an Icecream, and there she was! I’d just missed her cross the line, I felt bad again!

We had a chat, then we left, she would be hanging around for Dorota who was up on the ridgeway, somewhere before Checkpoint 5.

The journey home was peaceful, I was so tired, but had had such have and around amazing time. I’d learnt around maxing lot, and now my sttention would switch to the next race (the Helsinki Marathon in two weeks) and the summer of ultras that lay ahead.

Brighton Marathon April 2018

Published on April 23, 2018May 14, 2018 by runwithdai4 Comments

Brighton. We’d talked about this one a lot. Not just me and Alex, but most people I know in the running community. It’s a big one. The proximity to London, the coastal route in the famous city. Many runners start out on their marathon journeys here. Many, myself included, use it as a plan B and middle finger to the rejection of London Marathon.

For months now Alex and I have eagerly awaited the marathon. Officially my tenth and his first. The journey was a long anticipated path. Friday before we met for a run and shared our thoughts. Me, I purposely hadn’t tapered. I wanted to be tired and run the race at an “enjoyable” pace. Alex was feeling good. He was well prepared. He’d trained and done everything right. We agreed to run together. A pro and con list of why he should tolerate me for 4 hours. The selling point… I’d be his personal hype man.

Saturday morning and a trip down to Brighton to register and collect the kit. I dropped a t shirt off for some printing and went to check out the start lines whilst I waited for Alex and Amy to arrive. Here lay our first challenge. I’d qualified for the elite start, this was a mile away from the mass start. The idea being a straight down hill into Brighton, by passing the uphill lap around Preston park. Giving the runners a chance to get ahead of the 12,000 others. This wasn’t going to work, with the staggered starting for mass runners I’d probably be well ahead of Alex before we could meet around mile 1-2. We agreed a plan but hoped I could just default to the mass start on the morning.

Heading back to London my foot was hurting. A sharp pain on the outside, slightly underside of my right foot. Great, just what I needed. I did then realise I’d walked a solid 14mikes that day. My legs were going to hate tomorrow.

It’s 5am and the alarm is breaking my slumber. All the usual pre-run activities follow and I’m soon on a rammed train down to Brighton. The atmosphere was building. I arrived at Preston park and smiled. There would be nothing stopping me joining the mass start. The only concern now was my bag, there was no orange bag drop at the mass start. Not one of the volunteers could tell me what/where my bag would end up if I put it in another colour bag drop. I was about to risk it (I’m sure it would have found it’s way safely) when I spotted a table of spare bags of all colours and pens, labels and tape to add your bib number. Genius. Such a great piece of planning by the organisers. Although I can see why, I was amazed how many people had turned up not expecting to use the official bags for the bag drop. Come on guys! Think it through. There is plenty of information, for all events, as to what you can/can’t do!

Bags dropped, Alex found. Time to frequent the urinals and get this started. My tshirt had “hype man” written on it. And I was determined to live up to it. Starting with the urinals. Whopping and cheering Alex as he unloaded. Nerves relieved and the excitement built as we hit the starting pens. A slow walk (few hundred meters) towards the actual start. We couldn’t resist another toilet stop on the way and ended up at the front yellow wave. A prep talk from the marshals and we were cleared to “go”. There were supporters, family and friends, lining the initial few hundred metres. Standing there. Some clapping. Most just silently looking for familiar faces amongst the runners. I was having none of that. As quick as my legs started moving I found my voice “come on Brighton”, “make some noise!”, “woooooo”, “Come on Browner” (as it read on Alex’s tee), “we’re running!” These would be my staple cheers this day. The crowd reacted. The clapping and cheering started, although reluctantly. I realised being a hype man was going to take some effort. But we were off!

The first few miles were fairly quiet. 10k runners coming the opposite way to finish their races. Forest Gump out ahead of us getting plenty of cheers and the crowded narrow streets creating some bottlenecks. Then came the first water station. Paper cups. Hundreds,thousands of them. I grabbed one. Alex had a hydration pack. We continued. You can’t run and drink from the cup at the same time. Specially not with other runners all around you. Fuck it. I just threw it in my own face “Wooooo”. The crowd loved it. They were my goal. Interact with and wind up the crowd. Bring the hype. However I could, I would.

Coming round the corner a recognised a face in the crowd, Emma who I’d recently met through the Cool Cats group. A sound came from my mouth “Yeeeaaahhwwooooooooooo” it went. Just noise, rounding the corner and hitting the crowd with the already faithful “come on Brighton!!” The smallest of reactions. This was harder than I’d thought. We continued out and round before heading east out of Brighton Pier. Already we were noticing the several hills and inclines the route had in store for us. These would be felt at somepoint later on for sure! This stretch was a bit boring. It was long and gradual. Soon enough we were met by the orange and red runners coming the other direction, heading for the halfway mark. It was crowded. There were cones separating the running directions and there was a need to dash around them on several occasions. I saw at least 3 people fall over the cones (you can’t see them with all the crowding). One was quite spectacular, and silly. A guy in front cheering his partner running the other way. As they were both looking behind themselves she stacked it. His reaction was to stop and run back into the crowd of oncoming runners. I thought Alex was going to lose it with him as they came face to face!

Anyway. Boring stretch mostly done we were coming back to the pier. 12 or so miles done. Big crowds now and the hype was in flow. Here it was much more receptive with the crowd roaring with each cheer. “Come on Browner” being repeated. Rounding a corner there was a shout from the crowd and a High five from Jon (supporting the runners from Mind). We bounded over the half way point and felt good. We’d been occasionally chatting. Letting each other know how we were. Mile 14 saw us turn up to the infamous residential stretch. As I rounded the corner I belatededly saw. The cowbell cheer squad massive. Too Late for cheers.

Church street lived up to expectations. People lining ether side. Kids with sweets and oranges everywhere. The oranges were awesome. And then I started to notice, Alex was in trouble. His face looked like that of a marathoner! He was going through pains, emotions and thoughts not experienced before. The biggest telling point was hilarious for a bystander – up ahead a spectator was holding out two bottles of lucazade. Lids opened and ready to go. Alex made his move. As he closed in…arms outstretched… the bottles raised. Higher and higher. Vertical above the dudes head. He was focused beyond Alex. This wasn’t some generous supporter. This was a specific supporter. His friends and intended recipients of the sugary goodness were somewhere close behind us. Alex’s face. The disappointment. The muttered annoyance. It was too much. I cracked up and couldn’t stop laughing at the cruelty he felt. Temptation dangled right in front of him. The oasis in the race. I shouldn’t have laughed. But I’ll forever remember how funny it was to watch unfold.

The effect, not of lucazade-gate, but of the whole thing so far, hit home around mile 16 or so. Alex was spent. We pulled up and We had a little walk. Some sweets. A chat with some supporters. He had some (a lot)of pain in his hips. But even more determination in his face. Church road feels infinite when you’re in this condition. Stop-start we went. Adjusting the plan and goals. We were going to slow the pace which wasn’t a problem in the slightest.

Coming out of Church road and winding down the seafront our towards the infamous ‘power station’ loop we heard the biggest of cheers. It was Amy. Alex’s wife. I picked up up her cheers and echoed them. Let’s make some noise “come on Browner!”

On we went. I must say, the power station part was no where near as bad as people had made out. Yes it was annoying to still be running ‘away’ from the finish line. Yes it was quieter. And yes it was narrow and crowded. But there was a good buzz. Still plenty of supporters and for me, the smell from the timber yards was great!!

We did see a few runners on the floor receiving medical treatment. They looked confused. This brought back some uncomfortable memories for me and I hope they are as fortunate to but fit and healthy as I was when they recover! We continued the walk-run strategy out and down to the seafront. Just a ‘few miles’ remained. Alex was in and out of good and bad places. He was strong. I could see that. He knew he’d conquer this challenge.

It was the straight road home to the finish now. Along the sea front where the crowds had started to thicken, lining both sides of the street. Cheers and bells coming at you from every side and a shouts of ‘Alex’ and ‘Dai’! We turn to see Chris who we know from the London burger run meet ups. The cheers helped and we power on. It starts to rain as we are Heading up towards the pier. I’m in good mood whooping the crowd into a frenzy with great response. The sensation is incredible as the roar of the crowd follows us like a crashing wave. The finish is in sight and I’m screaming at Alex, at the other runners and at the crowd. I leave Alex to go get his photo finish and we cross the line to embrace in a big sweaty hug! Well earned and well deserved.

We collect our medals, take some pictures and head out the exit. Joking about he masses of family and friends crowding by then entrance. Why?!?! And then we spot Amy. She was one of them 😂

We wrapped Alex like a human burrito and headed off in search of warmth and food.

Limassol Marathon

Published on March 23, 2018 by runwithdai4 Comments

When & Where:

Cyprus, Limassol, March 2018

Why I ran this course:

Daryl was going. Remember, when Daryl asks, I say yes… Daryl, Yvette and Myself signed up to the full Marathon, Bernadas to the Half and Brigita was on cheering duties and keeping us all in check.

The Course:

Dull. A lap of some industrial areas. Then straight along a major road up the coast. Then back. Flat though. The coast was nice (as expected). Whilst a good course for racing, I don’t think it provides any mental stimulus.

The Organisation:

Smooth. Slick. Professional. The team did a great job in preparing and advertising the event. The were good with correspondence providing plenty of information and were quick to respond to queries.

I avoided most of the experience though as a friend collected my pack for me.

Most of the volunteers were young school kids mostly. They did alright. Not hugely enthusiastic and I suspect bored of it all for later runners.

The Atmosphere/Support:

Mostly not there as it was an out and back course. Few congregations around major hotels and water points though. I presume around the finish it was a good atmosphere. The event village had a stand with DJs.

My Race:

The prep was per usual. Plenty of mileage covered. Physically I was there. A marathon (over two runs) the week before was easy although unnecessary. Mentally, I was a bit of a mess. Malta has changed things. My mind couldn’t get away from the thought that a sub 3 was possible. So many ways to approach this but after dwelling on it I decided I’d go for it. Get it. Get it out of the way and enjoy the rest of the marathons with out the pressure I was suddenly feeling here. So that’s what I decided to do.

My math (google and someone else’s math) told me a 2:59 marathon would need an average pace of 6:50 min/mile. That’s a big ask. Finding 3 mins off my last time across 26 miles is not easy. The way I decided to find this was to go with a heavily top loaded strategy. I thought I’d go for 6:20 pace for ten miles (5 mins in the bag for later) and 6:40 for the next 10 (another 3 in the bag for later). Then the last 6 miles I can drop to 7:50 or below and eat those reserve minutes up.

So off I went. And to plan I mostly stuck. Early splits were a little over 6:20 but I wasn’t too worried. It dawned on me around mile 6 that my breathing was heavier/ more noticeable than previous runs. But it would be right. I was flying. I mostly kept pace with various groups of other runners. At one point forming a sort of peloton as we hid from the slightly oncoming (mostly side) wind.

Hitting the 10 mile mark my pace had dropped to 6:30 for the last few miles. I felt ok though so promised to try and make it up by sustaining this pace till the half way mark. A high five and cheer from Brigita and I was motivated through. Some gels collected too. I thought I’d need these this time. It was now time for the mental game. The long straight and back half marathon lay ahead. It was dull. No way around it. Head down. Plot on through. Clapping and cheering the few supporters out on the route and the elites coming back the other way.

I was struggling with my target pace but was hovering under the 7 min mile mark. I wasn’t bothered. I knew the miles were in the bag. I was watching the average pace slowly increase with each passing mile. As long as they were in sync, a ratio of 2 seconds per mile would even see me come home on time. Besides. I still had the contingency minute as I’d planned for a 2:59. All it meant was the last 6 miles would need a bit more effort is all.

And so it continued. Long. Straight. Pace watching. Slowing slightly each mile. I started to get overtaken around mile 22 but also overtook a few myself. I still felt good.

I remember noticing I had two miles to go. Annoying. Thought it would be one mile by now. I was around 7:30 pace. It would be tight for the sub 3. But I was confident. I knew we’d turn into the final stretch with about 1/2 a mile to go (I measured it on the way out) I told myself, get there, get passed the turn then you can check the watch. If it’s gone 2:56, go for it. Last half mile. If not, relax. You’ve got this.

I never got to check the watch. Or at least next time I did check the watch it was 11:30. I should have finished at 10:30. I was in a medical tent. Something had gone wrong. Very wrong. I must have passed out. I recorded my first Did Not Finish. I’m okay with that. Better than I thought I’d be. But now I need to figure out what happened….

The Goodies:

None for me! Well, apart from oxygen and fluids. I hear there were massages, freeze spray and beer. The medal looked good. The t-shirts you needed to buy. Pah

Time/Standings:

Time: DNF

Standing: DNF

Malta Marathon 2018

Published on February 26, 2018February 26, 2018 by runwithdai5 Comments

Street Signs

WHERE & WHEN:

Malta, February 2018

WHY I RAN THIS COURSE:

No particular reason other than I hadn’t been to Malta and I needed a marathon in February. I didn’t do any research but I wish I did. I might have been able to visit something like the Hypogeum if I’d planned in advance.

THE COURSE:

The course is not a city marathon. starting in the hills of Mdina you run through the countryside, downhill towards the capital Valletta before finishing up in the marina of Sliema.

THE ORGANISATION:

It’s a simple one. Registration was straight forward and the website informative. There was little correspondence from the MMOC (Malta Marathon Organising Committee) other than a reminder a few days before the race to “follow the rules”. Bib collection was available the day before (a good thing!) and the collection straightforward (although I went back 20 mins later after ripping my plastic kit bag and the queues were suddenly huge!). Everything went as expected.

THE ATMOSPHERE/SUPPORT:

Pretty much none. I’m getting this from the smaller, overseas marathons.

MY RACE:

It’s another run, another new place, another early morning. There’s organised transport from Sliema (where the marathon finishes) to Mdina (where it shall begin). It leaves at 6am. Aaargh. The night before I’d scoped out the walk. I’ve got a fairly decent night’s sleep and it’s now 4am and I’m getting up. The hotel I’m staying at doesn’t have much in the way of room facilities but there is a coffee machine in the lobby. The night watch man grunts as I get that early caffeine fix in. Arriving at the marina there starts to form a gathering of runners (what’s the collective for a group of runners? Just runners?). No one really knows where the buses will be so I walk up and down, taking in the marina in the dark. A short ride later and we arrive at Mdina. We have well over an hour to wait till the start. But, there’s a treat in store – I spend the majority of the time walking the streets of the walled town. Taking in the sunrise from the hills. Not a bad start to the day!

Before I know it we are off. The marathon is underway and we start running The route winding through the Maltese countryside. The potholed roads (think running in the shit parts of Lambeth) are mostly lined with Stone walls and for the early parts of the race we are treated to the beautiful morning views of Mdina.

The race hasn’t the luxury of Closed roads but, there was only one occasion where this was a problem when, a few km in, a parked car pulled out and decided to try to drive through all the runners. Knobs head Other than that my experience was good. It was Well traffic-marshalled and later parts of the course had a coned off section/lane for the race.

I wasn’t sure how to approach this race. It was meaningless to me for a start. The second race in my challenge. Here on my own. My mind looking at future races. I had little incentive. Once again I thought of taking it easy. But the trouble is I now know from Muscat what I’m capable of. What I can run. And I’m also very competitive with myself. I can’t dial that back. So off I went again with the crowd when the race director said “go”. Starting out I was feeling strong and I felt that the race was fast with a speedy field of runners. Immediately I was faster than Muscat. It was happening again, immediately I started to form a race strategy.

My run plan had become – keep the fast sub-7min mile pace until 10miles. Then adapt. I soon changed this to the keeping the same pace for the first half. The adaption this time was followed by the approach of “if I’m struggling to sustain the pace or if I’m finding the pace is difficult then drop it” give myself some breathing space by lowering the pace slightly and sustain that instead. So mile 13 I did just that. I looked to slow to a more comfortable 7.20min mile pace which I promised I’d aim to keep till mile 21. Then like Muscat, anything goes. The hard work would be done. Bring it home.

The majority of the first 10 miles was downhill. Then there was a short bit steep incline around that was soon followed by a longer gradual climb. These were pace sappers. I was fighting a little to keep the pace at this point. 13 miles was my target though.

Other than those the majority of the first half to 3/4 turned out to be downhill (obviously I knew ethos from the elevation chart, but, it’s difficult to visualise a chart in reality!).Downhills look and sound easy but By mile 17 mile quads were lit. There was burning and pain. I kept going.

Malta Marathon Elevation Chart — clearly downhill, but hard to make out the individual hills

Malta Marathon elevation — Those inclines at mile 10 and around mile 12, 22 and 24 were little bitches!

The water stations were well stocked with kids loving the responsibility. I also enjoyed the occasional powerade supplier in small little bottles. Easy to drink perfect size portion.

Mile 20 had a little surprise in store for us – a steep bridge over a main road. It was the first but not the last. Most of the last 6 miles of the course had these little ups and downs. They were tough. I slowed my pace as promised. 8 min miles were mine. Smile and enjoy what I could.

Around miles 22-23 I started to be overtaken by a lot of people. I was hoping these were just the half marathoners but there were definitely faces I recognised from earlier. This wasn’t a fun feeling. I was running faster than ever before. Perhaps that race strategy isn’t the way afterall.

Up and down we went, round and round the twisty coastal roads. As we hit the capital – Valletta – we looper round the bays and coastal roads. On the other side I could soon see the finishing arc. 2km remaining. Here we go, Sliema here I come.

Up until Sliema there was pretty much no support. But, the finishing mile had brought the public out in their masses. A great last boost. Including huge screams from the lovely lady working at the Ta’ Kris restaurant I visited the night before (highly recommend by the way. So busy they were constantly turning people away!). I wish I’d left her more of a tip now.

It’s the final stretch and I’m ushered into the wrong finish and had a picture with a rapid Half marathon time instead. Doh.

Malta Finish — I was pretty happy to finish!

Getting my medal I glanced back and saw the clock on the other side was saying 3:03. I was shocked. But it was goodies time. That can wait till later.

Immediately after the water I queued for a free leg rub. Lovely. Fucking hurt like hell. I didn’t enjoy that.

Then I queued for a photo with my estimated finish time which my watch had confirmed was just under 3:03. Suhweeeet.

It’s great that the marathon includes free photos to social media and a free rub. You can’t argue with that. It was chaotic though. It was all too close to the finish and a bit packed as the thousands of runners started finishing.

The free T-Shirt is great and has similarities to the National footy kit!

Malta Tshirt — No? just me who sees similarities?

All in all a highly recommend race. It’s not a city marathon so is very scenic. It’s a Beautiful route that is Fast, hilly and Tough. It’s Well organised and Cheap compared to most.

As I was running Malta something felt different. I felt for the first time I was more in tune with my run, more Aware of my body. Whilst enjoying the surroundings (see pic of me absorbing it) I could sense when I was slacking. When I was ready to slow. My brain was easily able to translate the messages to my body. It felt good. I’m going to try and explain in another post. I also felt better at reacting to check points and water stations. Something I’ve never been efficient at. Maybe one part of it is that I also avoided checking my time. I kept monitoring my pace but no pressures of time. And didn’t attempt to calculate it. So i knew I was running strong. Just without the pressure of expectations.

I entered the run with a clouded mind of emotions and thoughts that had lingered for a few weeks and made me a grumpy sod for no apparent reason. The long run worked its magic though and now I can’t remember those thoughts or stresses and the freedom running gives me has once again delivered.

THE GOODIES:

Medal T-shirt, Medal, Massage, Photos. What more could you want? The medal is pretty big but features Mdina. It’s alright.

TIME/STANDINGS:

3:02:47 (PB)
54/883

Muscat Marathon

Published on January 26, 2018February 1, 2018 by runwithdai5 Comments

Where & When:

Muscat, Oman, January 2018

Oman is truly spectacular with an incredibly beautiful landscape full of mountains and Wadis. We spent a few days exploring some of Oman’s offerings and were welcomed by such a welcoming culture with very smiley and happy locals.