In the Mouth of the Wolf

I have probably hesitated about writing this post for too long, as it was not only a recap of how I did at the Valencia marathon but also of the year of running for me in 2019. To say that it has been an eventful year for my running is an understatement. A cursory glance at the improvement in my times at various distances would confirm that. Along the way I have also learnt a lot about my strengths and weaknesses. More importantly, when things have got really tough, I have remembered why I like running and what it means to me.

The importance of running came almost as a revelation to me as I was listening to the Marathon Training Academy podcast, a show I think it would be fair to say that is predominantly aimed at people new to running. In this particular podcast the hosts were providing helpful ways for people to increase the consistency and frequency of their running, especially after achieving a big goal race; stating that besides focussing on the process of going out on a regular basis to run, it was also about understanding that races and times are just one part of what makes someone a runner. It occurred to me that I had never looked at my running in that way, and even though I had some of my greatest successes in 2019, I still had a lot to learn about why I ran as well as what motivated me deep down to continue to run. Nowhere did this become more apparent than when I was injured in 2019. Hence why this final entry for 2019 is not just about Valencia, but a review of my running as a whole and how in many ways Valencia was a culmination of the many ups and downs of running for me in 2019.

Valencia

In short, I fell in love with the city and the marathon. It could have been a coincidence of circumstances- the fact that I hadn’t had a break over the summer meant that any time away from work and the UK was welcome- the difference in the way of life out there, the weather resembling a sunny warm day in the UK when it was the dead of winter back home, the excitement of doing a marathon abroad for the first time, etc. I could go on and on, but whatever it was, there was just something quixotic about the city.

Valencia itself is a beautiful city with its ancient river bed, now known as Turia Gardens, dividing the city that provides a welcome haven for the hustle and bustle of day-to-day to life. The Gardens themselves are an excellent running route and allow you to take in some of the sights of the city if you wanted to go on a long run. Turning to the marathon course, it is probably the flattest course I have ever ran. The best comparison in the UK I can think of is Abingdon, but even that has a slight incline of the repeat loop that you do of the course. Whilst it was never going to be as noisy and intense as the London Marathon, Valencia had a wonderful atmosphere that definitely appreciates why people put themselves through the gauntlet of running 26.2 miles. Some of the most surreal experiences were seeing a Christmas nativity scene in relatively warm conditions, basking in the sunshine and accompanied with neon lights, as I ran by. Add to that beginning the marathon near the sea, going through the key sites of Valencia and finishing at its iconic City of Arts and Sciences; and you have one amazing marathon that delivers on its promises.

Ironically Valencia had more of an international feel to me than the London Marathon, despite London being a bigger landmark on the global marathon calendar. I don’t know if this was because of where I have started in the London Marathon or Valencia seems to have attracted more European nationalities; it just seemed to have loads of different nationalities from Europe. The day before the marathon, I bumped into a group of lovely Italian women who were also doing the marathon, and said that we were going into the mouth of the wolf! It turns out that it is the equivalent of wishing someone to break a leg for a theatre performance. Sent against the backdrop of Valencia’s beach, with clear skies and a sunny day; I was felt a tinge of sadness of how friendly people had been in Spain and from other countries. Hoping that I could return again to Spain to this marathon again.

Turning to the Valencia marathon itself; it was again a privilege, humbling and above all an amazing experience. I had tried to relax as much as possible, as I was knew I was not at my peak fitness. For my account of this race I have tried to break it down into mileage segments rather than just a general narration of the race as a whole.

Miles 1 – 5

Amazed at how serious everyone is taking the warm-up at the beginning of the marathon. I’ve only ever started in the good for age are for the London Marathon, but this sub-2:50 area has a different feel to it. The only big hitch that I come across is the organisation of the entry into the start corrals, the whole area is crowded and the sign-posting is poor; at London is was much easier. The usual crowding at the start begins and then a very dramatic countdown timer begins with a ‘shhh’.

The race begins and there is a huge surge forward. I find that there is a lot of pushing and shoving, it feels more like the start of a cross country race. All around me people are surging ahead and I have to keep telling myself to stick with the pace that I agreed with my coach. My watch isn’t matching the initial mile markers and it is starting to make me feel uneasy about relying on my Garmin. I decide to be brave on just rely on a good old-fashioned stop watch approach to pacing. This means that I will aim for 4:03 minutes per kilometre, which will get me to the end in a time of around 2 hours and 50 minutes. This will be how I monitor myself during the race.

On the out and back stretch of part of the course I see the elite runners are already far, far ahead and marvel at their speed. There is very little noise as compared to say London, and it reminds me more of Abingdon at the beginning. The noise of shoes hitting the tarmac is punctuated with runners being spotted by friends and family. Some runners peel off to greet their supporters.

Miles 5 – 10

This part of the race is probably the quietest. The organisers do a good job of trying to keep the support going, with music stations (one of them playing ‘Gonna fly now!’ tune from Rocky). This is in fairness the part of the course that feels the most remote from the whole. I am starting to settle into a rhythm with my running and get chatting to a runner from a city further up the coast; he speeds off after chatting with me and I wonder if I will see him again. I can’t help but find the day surreal with the clear blue skies and feeling more like I am on holiday, than running a marathon.   Pacing is ticking along nicely and I am enjoying breaking the race down into kilometre markers.

Support from the crowd is starting to pick up again as we are coming back into the city. Groups are starting to form and I am feeling more relaxed as space starts to open between runners. I have a gel and congratulate myself for the first part of my race going to plan.

Miles 10 – 14

More people are starting to appear on the side of the roads. The usual signs of support appear, along with Spanish running clubs shouting out their runners’ names. I am smiling to myself, I might even be enjoying myself. After all those months between May and August where things just weren’t clicking, I am fortunate enough to be able to give this race everything I have got.

It is becoming apparent that some runners are starting to realise that the pace they started with might not have been the most realistic one, and they are hogging the blue line. I find myself being partially barged by someone who thinks it is absolutely necessary to be on the line. I speed up to get away from them.

The race’s first gel station appears and I take a gel, without thinking open it and swallow. It tastes sweet, heavy and sickly. I realise that even though it is the same brand that I have been using in my training, it is a different type of gel that needs water with it. My stomach doesn’t appreciate this unwelcome visitor to the party and head towards the nearest water station. I feel uncomfortable and my pace has slowed according to the mile marker. I try not to be annoyed with myself and chalk it up to a lesson learnt for another marathon.

For the first time in the race I start to feel like I am working that little bit more than at the beginning. I pass mile 13 and play the game of telling myself that it is a half marathon to go. I see my mum and wife at mile 14 and it feels great to see people I recognise. I take the gels they are offering and push on.

Miles 14 - 18

Heading back towards the City of Arts and Sciences I felt the pace picking up, but didn’t know if that was because I was having to put more energy into maintaining my pace. I began to run along the Turia Gardens route towards the old city and felt the sun for the first time properly. The day had started to warm up ever so slightly. The noise of supporters had upped slightly and the road felt narrower in parts as people began to encroach on the running route.

I aimed for the shade, hoping that if it was to become warmer than it wouldn’t make too much of a difference to my performance. I was starting to notice some runners peeling off or even walking. From my experience to date of running marathons I knew that this was part of the race was a strange one; not near enough to the end to be in real discomfort, but the feeling of the body starting to warn you that things were not as easy as they once seemed, combined with the race distance being in double digits, could make for the feeling of being overwhelmed. One particular image kept in my mind of a runner who had seemed fine and exuberant, but as we approached the old city he let out a loud cry and began slowing.

In fact as we entered the old city I started to find myself overtaking runners I had recognised at the beginning of the marathon who had run ahead of me. I noticed some people had the Nike Vaporflys on, so maybe the shoes weren’t worth their weight in gold after all.

Miles 18 – 22

The old city was brilliant, with the cathedral ringing its bells and the noise of the crowds, it very much reminded me of the London Marathon. I was definitely noticing that I was working harder as I saw runners all around me working hard. I couldn’t tell if I was becoming fatigued, but I just couldn’t find the km markers. It unsettled me as I wasn’t able to monitor my pace, opting to push a little bit harder than was comfortable in order to counteract any potential slowing down from fatigue.

I found the km marker that roughly indicated 20 miles and said to myself: “only a cheeky 10km race to go now”. Leaving the old city the roads became wider and I knew that I was starting to feel tired. It was now a case of holding on until the end. I was starting to work hard when I heard someone shouting my name and realised that my wife was calling my name. I was about to miss her and the gels, so quickly moved across to grab a gels. It was not the handover that we had envisaged.

Miles 22 – 26.2

It was not the handover that I had envisaged with my wife and I felt somewhat drained from just taking a gel. I was heading back into the city and was starting to feel the pace bite. Compared to London my mind was not where I wanted to be, I wanted to push on but my legs were resisting me every step of the way. My mind was in a negative place, asking why I had gone and run a marathon when I knew I wasn’t as fit as London and being annoyed with my hamstring for starting to play up.  It was fast becoming more a battle between my mind and I, rather than a physical contest. The planned surge at the end of the marathon had not materialised, but I knew that I had to fight to hold on.

It felt like I was replaying the beginning of the marathon at the end. I was being overtaken by some runners and I was also overtaking runners. It was the familiar scene of triumph and pain at the end of the marathon. Weaving in and out of the city I kept telling myself that I only had a few more miles. The crowds and the noise were becoming larger and louder. It seemed as though there were very few runners on the route.

Gratifyingly I passed mile 24 and told myself to dig deep; thinking that this was the whole point of the marathon to keep the grit going and think of all the training I had done. In the haze of the pain and tiredness, I had a vague awareness that I was still on track for my 4:03 min/ km pacing. I kept pushing forward and the crowd further narrowed the route, so that it resembled something resembling a Tour de France scene. Probably the most surreal moment came as I overtook a barefoot runner, who I have nothing but the utmost respect for.

Conclusion

The final 800m was excruciating and I crossed the line with the knowledge that I left everything I had out there for this particular training cycle. I stumbled my way through the finishing area and to the meeting point I had agreed with my mum and wife. I looked down at my watch and realised that I was exactly two minutes off my personal best from London this year. My whole body hurt and I knew that I would need some rest after this.

I received congratulatory emails from my coach and physiotherapist. It was more a relief to have delivered a performance that I was happy with, as I didn’t know if I could have lived up to a similar performance at London. At the start of the marathon I had made a secret promise with myself to have a swim in the sea if I kept to the target pace I had set myself, and I did just that.

In many ways it was a magical day in Valencia, where I had fallen in love with the city and renewed my passion for marathon running. I couldn’t have asked for much more at the Valencia marathon; my pacing had been pretty much spot on, I had even managed to get a slight negative split and I hadn’t given up when things got tough.

Spongebob

A week later I ran in a much more relaxed manner as Spongebob Squarepants in the countryside of Kent with my running friend Jamie. It was such a great way to ease back into my running, as I didn’t have to think about time or the aim of the run. It was just simply good to be outside and moving again. In a funny way, it was a fitting end to my running for 2019; not focussing on times but reminding myself about

The end of 2019

I still feel like I have unfinished business with the Valencia marathon. I don’t know when I will go back, but I would certainly like to have another crack at the race. Looking back over the year I have been fortunate enough to get personals bests at the 10km, half-marathon, 20 mile and marathon distances. I have learnt a lot about my racing and training over the year, as well as broadening my ambition for running. I have run around 500 miles more in 2019 than I did in 2018, with a higher weekly average as well. I am also happy with having kept a journal since late 2018 and throughout 2019.

I think I also learnt a lot about myself through my running this year. Unknowingly I have been labouring under the assumption that if I am dedicated to something, then it should always go right. It was only after watching the Brene Brown documentary on the Power of Vulnerability, when I realised that there will be some (if not many) downs) when pursuing something that you love. Conversely it is only by going to a place where you are at risk of a big failure that you can achieve your own version of greatness. It is an insight that gives me both the courage to risk trying to push myself in running, but also being patient when things don’t go my way.

Whilst I was out in Valencia, I was finishing off reading Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl. Besides being incredibly moved by the story of this amazing young girl, I found her honesty and determinate to be inspiring. Anne Frank’s story is haunting, and I cannot imagine what it was like for her. A few weeks after Valencia, I was coming to the end of the book and one of her many insights still stays with me now:

‘[I] have spent days searching for an effective antidote to that terrible word ‘easy’…. We have many reasons to hope for great happiness, but…we have to earn it. And that’s something you can’t achieve by taking the easy way out.’

Never were more true words spoken about life or running.