Europe-4th Continent
Liverpool Double- Marathon New Years Eve, Marathon New Years Day!
Fourth Continent
Arriving In Europe (Vienna)
My quest do do a marathon on each continent is heading to the half way stage, however this time instead of making the marathon the top priority I've decided to tack it onto my European holiday, that I have been planning all year. My theory is, I'm not coming all the way back just to do a marathon, so surely I can find one near the end of the trip, run it and then hobble back to Australia.
However, it wasn't easy as all that, marathons in Europe in Winter are few and far between, and the ones I did find, sounded pretty awful..I decided to go for one that was close by to where I would be and easy and cheap to get to..naturally I didn't research, the location, weather conditions and route very much, just paid my 76pound and forgot about it..I've since found that the marathon is a trail run of extremely tough conditions, it is on the South Coast of England at a small place called Portland Bill, they only accept 500 entrants due to the instability of the coastal cliffs, and the weather can be quite treacherous!! Oh well too late to go back now.....
The trip to Europe was long and tiring, but very exciting for me. We traveled on British Airways and I had been told not to expect the best service, but they were great, the staff and food were good but the highlight of my trip was my discovery of the English drink the G and T. Can you believe that I've got to 46 and one has never passed my lips? David ordered a Gin and Tonic and I said I will have a sip of that, Wow..it was the most heavenly thing I've ever tasted (alcohol wise that is), well it was G and T's all they way after that..if you remember I stayed off alcohol for the last month of my Bangkok marathon training as an experiment to see if it would effect my running, however, this time I think I may try an alcohol binge the month before my European marathon, just for experimental purposes of course!
The new Terminal 5 at Heathrow was very impressive, I've never been to London before, but the sky was so grey from the airport windows, I didn't see any of it. The last leg of the very long journey was from London to Vienna.
When we arrived in Vienna it was grey, nearly dark(4pm) and cold, but not as cold as I had expected. However, I'm not sure if it was me or the temperature kept dropping, but by the time I left three days later, the cold was in my bones and I thought is was the coldest place I had ever been to. No matter how much I rugged up in the end I was still chilled to the bone..however, there was one delightful cure for that..gluwein..yes the G and T's were quickly dumped for the amazing taste of hot wine. On street corners in little tents with crowds of people gathered around you could buy a hot wine in a proper mug and sip it slowly to try to thaw out, it was amazing how quickly it seeped into you blood stream and made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Vienna is made up of three shades of grey, the ground, the buildings and the sky, it's suprising you don't walk into walls there as it's hard to distinguish one from the other, but the wonderful thing that breaks the dull is the incredible Christmas decorations that lines the streets and windows, they were huge, bright and colourful. It nearly made it worth the hour it took to put on five layers of clothing, just to get out into the street at night to walk around and take them all in.
Now to the running, yes I did brave the cold to run in Vienna. The first morning, I rugged up in long gear and a hat, and hit the streets, due to my propensity to get lost everywhere I go, I thought I would just run along the canal near our hotel for half and hour and then turn and run back, sounds logical, doesn't it?
The running out was fine, it was still dark at 7am, and not many people were on my canal path, just the ones who own dogs, but I still felt safe. I turned to run back and I ran and ran and ran, but I couldn't find my start point..I was so confused how could I have strayed off track, I didn't turn a corner or cross a bridge....for a half an hour I ran around some side streets looking for my start point, but I started to get colder and colder and more worried. I kept asking people where Tiefer Graben(our street) was and they all pointed me in crazy directions, saying left, then right, or right then left..it's like they were playing ping pong with the silly Aussie tourist..this went on for an hour and when I still had no idea where I was I started to panic.
The shops were starting to open and I was getting some very strange looks as I was running around the streets in little more than long johns and I thought God it must be 9am, so I saw a little Beauty Shop and went in , the large women behind the counter was someone who obviously didn't practise what she preached, she was big and ugly and wore more makeup that could ever be legal for that time of the morning, however, I just asked the question I had asked twenty times previously ... "Tiefer Graben'. she like everyone before her knew exactly where it was, she pointed up the street, and said "end" and then started moving her fingers in a downward motion, until I said "steps", "Yar Yar" she said "steps down". Well that's a new one I thought, no one had thrown the old step routine in yet, however, what could you do but just have some faith, so I ran to the end of the road where she had pointed and lo and behold, there were very dark, dungy steps going down, what the hell I thought, so very quickly I ran down the three flights of steps, and would you believe it I was standing in Tiefer Graben about one block from the hotel.
If I wasn't so buggered and she wasn't so ugly I would of ran back and kissed the Austrian Beautician who helped me find my way back home..two and half hours after I left, I arrived back in the hotel room, blue and shaking all over..my first run in Vienna was one for the memory books!
It wasn’t my last run in Vienna though; I was determined to not let it beat me. There is a ring around the inner city area of Vienna called the Ringstradde and if you stick on it you can do a circle of the amazing monuments and buildings that make up Vienna’s old town. I was determined to run the Ringstradde, I studied it the night before and was sure that if I stuck to the ring, I couldn’t get lost. So 7am the next morning, looking like a brightly colored bandit, I took off, sticking only to the Ring, and I did it!! It took 35mins to run the ring, so when I got back to the start, I reversed it and ran back the other way. My faith in running in strange, dark cities was restored and on the way I saw some incredible, buildings, archways and palaces, that just take your cold, foggy breath away.
Our time in Vienna was running out and I was desperate to see the Danube River, I could see it on my map but never got time to go out to have a look. On the last morning, I quickly packed my bags and then told David I was going to find the Danube, and I would be back by nine, understandably he had a dubious look on his face, and he warned me we had to leave for the airport at 9.30am.
I ran to the underground and bought a ticket, it took 5mins to get to my station and it was lovely sight when I saw the river from the train window, not so lovely though when I alighted and was hit with a bitter, biting wind in my face, I ran up one side, it was dark, gloomy and the river was very choppy, I ran quite a way until, I saw a walkway bridge over the river, I was aware of time, so I thought I would run over it and head back on the other side of the Danube.
It was very eerie, there was not a soul out and about, the wind was biting, the trees were all leafless and ghostlike, and the empty playground and locked up carnival grounds was positively scary. I was reminded of a movie I watched a very long time ago, called Gorky Park, set in Russia, I felt like I was in a scene from the movie, so I started to run as fast as my legs could carry me back along the river’s edge, I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed, I had romantic notions the Danube would be a beautiful river and there would be people waltzing and dancing along the river banks!!
The chill was really getting to me, and I was desperate to get out of the cold, when Vienna showed me that their famous river has plenty of style, 8 huge white swans were gliding along regally and they were proudly heading in my direction, I was stopped in my tracks and they came up close to me looking at me haughtily as if to say” stop your sniveling you ugly duckling”, I grabbed out the camera and marveled at them for quite a while, until I realised I had to get back.
I raced to the train station. I soon realized that I had hit peak time, so the trains were packed, the first train, I couldn’t fit on, the second the doors open and there was wall to wall people, but I took a chance and jumped in, squished between the Viennese workers and the doors,. I was holding my breath at the next station I thought when the doors open, I will just fall out into the station, but lucky for me two large ladies pushed their way in to make the train unbearable full. So there I was in my running gear with five huge Viennese ladies all around me wearing big padded parkas, lucky I was taller than them so my head was above and I didn’t suffocate, but I didn’t have to hang on I was just being bounced about in a wall of soft parkas, it was great , the warmest I had felt in my three days in Vienna, I didn’t want it to end, but my station arrived and I had to extract myself and run back to the hotel and off to Greece.
Surviving Greece
It was announced on the plane to Greece that the temperature was 18 degrees!! The sun was shining and we had to peel off a few of our Viennese layers. There had been riots in Greece for the past two weeks, and David had been following the progress on the internet, we didn’t know where our hotel in Athens was, but it wouldn’t be where the riots are...surely!! We took the underground to the Victoria station, in the museum sector of Athens, and as soon as we hit the street, there was a sense that something was not quite right, we could hear people on megaphones and could see plenty of protesting like activity, I was dragging two suitcases behind me and following David so I had the head down and bum up so to speak, but I could hear chanting, yelling and loud music and I just thought, wow this is a busy noisy city, it wasn’t until I looked up to cross streets, that I noticed the Riot police with their shields and batons, at the ready, the further we walked to our hotel, the more police and destruction we could see along the way, when we arrived it didn’t take long to figure out that our hotel was smack in the middle of the Athen’s riots!!
After we checked in we thought lets go for a walk and look for some Greek food (the real reason I wanted to come to Greece), the concierge, directed us to walk in the opposite direction of the Riot Police, which we were happy to do, however, it was a shock to see that the building next door to our hotel, had been burnt out, and it must of been recent as the smell of smoke was very strong, the building was 5 stories high!! We quickly found a lovely Greek restaurant and had the most amazing dinner, and then raced back home to our sixth floor bedroom, put down the security shutters, locked the door, jumped into bed and put the blankets over our heads and we were not moving!!
I was determined to go for my first run in Athens, I had my map and I was heading to the monolith, that is the Acropolis...I really didn't need a map as it looms large over the city, it is an amazing sight, especially at night. I upset the night porter, by asking him if it was safe to run, to which he yelled at me "of course it is, we are Greek, we will not harm you", I was refering to the riots, but I wasn't game to say another word, I left the hotel and I felt I had just stepped into Beirut..during the night there had obviously been fighting, there were burnt out cars, smashed shops and destruction everywhere in the streets, I ended up running past the perpetrators, as they have taken over the University(across the road from out hotel), with camp fires, banners and lots of noise..I was trying to not look obvious, but of course my red shorts and white Lazy Runner top and hat, stood out in the city where 99% of the population wear black, I just ran and ran my heart was pounding, I felt that everyone in the streets was staring or glaring at me, it was the scariest three blocks I have ever run in mylife...I fixed my eyes on the Acropolis and prayed for Appollo to give me strength to make it up there..I did of course and what I saw was incredible...it was worth the run through the Gaza to get to it! However, I must admit I was not looking forward to the return trip, it was a matter of head down and run fast, I cannot believe that this city is the birthplace of the marathon and they were looking at me like I was an alien for running in their city!
The last day in Greece was unforgettable. We had a wonderful day viewing some of the world’s most ancient landmarks, the Acropolis, Hadrian’s Arch and the Columns of Zeus…that evening we ate at the Greek restaurant we had been at the night before as it was so good, and close to our hotel. We didn’t want to venture far as we had heard that it was the two week anniversary of the student's death which had started all the riots, and you could get a sense of the drama building in the afternoon as the riot police starting taking their positions on the street corners around our hotel. We went to bed early; I had a final check of my balcony to see if my storm troopers were insitu down below ,they were!
David was awoken two hours later to gunshots and loud bombing noises, we both were trying to sneak peeks out of our sixth floor window, and we noted that the storm troopers had their gas masks on and shields up, we both crept back to bed and put the blankets over our head, bullet proof protection!!…at midnight the hotel management calmly rang our room to tell us that the hotel had been tear gassed and would be kindly open our windows,however there is nothing to worry about….nothing to worry about..David couldn’t resist opening the door to our hotel room and of course the hall way was filled with smoke, he shut it quickly but just the whiff was enough to start us sneezing and the eyes were running.
We did as we were told, opened the window and then assumed our protective positions, in bed with the blanket over our heads and listened to the gun fire and yelling for the rest of the night. It was with a little pleasure that we were checking out of our hotel the next morning, the foyer was still infected with the tear gas. I would hate to have a full blown effect of the stuff as just the small amount we encountered had a dramatic effect on our sinuses...I was using the internet in thefoyer on the morning we were leaving and the whole time the tears were streaming down my face and I was sneezing constantly..David said what are you doing down here in the gassy foyer...hey whats a touch of tear gas when there is free internet, it’s hard to come by overseas!
We left Athens and hired a car to take us to Delphi, one of the sites of the oldest remains of civilization. It is a wonderful village high in the Greek mountains; it was snowing when we arrived. The ancient ruins are amazing, they are built into the side of a mountain, and there is a theatre, a sporting arena and even a gymnasium, those old Greeks were really into their fitness.
On the way back to Athens I made David take a detour to find the township of Marathonis,the home of the first marathon. They have a museum there, but it was closed, so we drove the marathon course, I had planned to run it but glad I didn’t at is it’s the most unspectacular marathon course I've ever seen, the only highlight is the end which is the ancient Olympic stadium. It is still used annually for the Athen's marathon, but believe me it’s not pretty and you couldn’t run it on a normal day, the road is a very busy motorway with limited footpaths and unending suburbia...so it was a little disappointing, but I was glad I got to see it.
We had another night in Athens, but a different hotel this time! I ran on my final morning, to the original Olympic stadium, you cannot run around the track, but you can look at it and imagine what the first Olympics must have been like, from there I ran a couple of kilometres of the marathon course, but as I said very hard with traffic and lack of paths, then I turned and ran back to the stadium, pretending I was finishing the Olympic marathon, I couldn’t do a lap of honor, but I pretended I did.
Italian Leg
We left Athens that evening and headed to Milan, to meet the all our children who were arriving Christmas Eve, we ended up on a horror easy jet flight, that was delayed four hours, we ended up in Milan at 3am, with only three hours to sleep before the first few were arriving from Australia at 6.30am.
From Milan we travelled to Verona, my favorite Italian city...I had intended to run, but it was Christmas and it was bloody freezing and where we were staying there were hills every which way...you get the picture…I just stayed in bed those three mornings.
From Verona we trained to Venice, of course I had do run there, no excuses!We stayed in a house on the Lido, a short ferry ride to the main Island. The Lido is a rectangular Island of 11km in length and about 1 km wide; I thought it would be a good run to do the circuit. I got up early and I experimented with my clothing as the cold is affecting my running badly...so I had on long pants and top, gloves, a face warmer and a hat, I ran down the beach side along the Mediterranean, the view was pretty, turned the corner and ran to the canal side and of course hit a blustering wind with a devilish wind chill factor that just wore me down. My nose seems to take the brunt of this type of weather and even though I know it is not going to fall off I live in panic that it will just snap, it gets so cold that it becomes painful and the whole time I’m running I can only think of one thing, my sore nose! I try putting the facewarmer up high, so all you can see is the whites of my eyes but then I can’t breathe properly….anyway I didn’t do the whole island, once again the cold beat me….
On my last morning in Venice, I knew I had to run what I think must be the most beautiful run in the world. I caught the ferry over to St Elena, and ran from there along the canal into St Marks, the square that takes your breath way no matter how many times you see it. I ran through Saint Marks Square where it was even too cold for the pigeons, through lots of little cobblestone streets, to Ponte Rialto, ran up the top of this world famous bridge and took in the most photographed view of the Grand Canal lined with Palazzos, over the bridge and through the Rialto fish and veggie markets, they were just setting up, through another few cobblestones streets until I reached a dead end, which of course is water..I turned and ran back the way I came, and ran into the most stunning sunrise coming up over the Lido. The 60min run was breathtaking and I crossed no less than 28 bridges in that hour, that can only happen in Venice...it was hard to say goodbye again to what I think is the most amazing city in the world...I was so thrilled that I could show it to my children.
The English Leg
After Italy the gang split up..my two sons and two of their mates went to Scotland, to see the new year in at the Hogmany Festival and David, his two sons, my two daughters and I headed for England. We stayed at David's parents house in the English countryside, at a village called Mellor just outside of Manchester. David's family home is set high atop a hill with stunning views of the English countryside, and next door is a church and graveyard. The church came in handy for me, because I went on a long run and got lost, if it wasn't for the church bell ringing, I would never have found my way home in the fog! Once again the weather hovered at -5 degrees, with even the English saying how cold it was. My run around Mellor was very enjoyable, I ran through country lanes up hill and down dale, the only problem was what I have now labeled treadmillling. Treadmilling happens when there is so much ice on the paths and roads, that if you happen to get onto a section you tend to run on the same spot for a while, however, it is far more dangerous then a treadmill as you don't have handles and there is a huge slip factor. I must of looked very funny every few hundred metres with my arms and legs going windmill style and me not getting anywhere.
From Mellor my girls and I hitched a ride on a Virgin Train up to London. We were very excited about this leg of the journey and London did not disappoint, I loved it..I could see a Lazy Runner group going very well in this city. We stayed in Convent Garden, a great location close to many major landmarks. I only had one opportunity to run in London, so I had to make the most of it. So trusty map in hand, and rugged up as much as possible I hit the streets of old London Town. I tried to get in as many landmarks as I could in one run, so straight to the Palace, where the guards were not moving, but they still looked warmer than me, past Princess Diana's gardens, past Downing Street, then to the edge of Hyde Park, back to Big Ben (and by the way he ain't that big) and the houses of Parliament, marvelled at the London Eye, across Westminister Bridge and the Thames, down to Westminister Cathedral, around to St Pauls (and by the way, he is huge), over London Bridge, past the Tower of London and back to the start...it was an eye popping experience.
French Leg
The next morning we headed to Gatwick to fly to France, well Switzerland really as we arrived into Geneva, but it was only five minutes before we crossed the border to France. David had rented a chalet in the French alpine village of Morzine. It was a 1.5 hour drive from Geneva airport and the scenery was just spectacular, I had never seen so much snow in all my life. The Chalet was huge, cosy and warm. I thawed out here for a couple of days and then my daughters and I went to Paris for a few days, we were meeting up with my eldest son there. It ended up being another horror easy jet flight, that was four hours delayed, that saw us miss our shuttle bus to the hotel at Disneyland, so we had to take the underground. So can you imagine, three very innocent Aussie girls, who had never been to Paris, on the underground at midnight, our train didn't reach the right stop, it let us out two stops early, and there we were in a cold dark station in Paris, on our own..and it was snowing..not a pleasant arrival!
We were to go to Disneyland the next day, but after our midnight travels, we slept in and decided to take in some sights in the afternoon. Now I know I have said this one million times on this trip so far, but it was bloody freezing in Paris, the coldest of any of the places I had been to so far, you could just not get warm in the outdoors, no matter how many layers you were wearing. My 14 year old told me at one stage, she had 6 layers on , that included two puffy warm jackets, and she was still cold! I loved Paris, it's a beautiful city even in the cold, it was snowing as well so it had a magical air about it. We saw the the Eiffel Tower, and one again I was surprised at it's lack of height, I'm just wondering it that's an Aussie thing. We saw the Arc de Triomphe, Bastille square and walked up the Champs Elysees. The next day, to my youngest daughter's sheer excitement and delight, we went to Euro Disney, it was a wonderful day out. The sun was shining but the cold was bitter, Disneyland is very pretty, and the snow and iced ponds added to the attraction.
I was excited about the prospect of going for a long run in Paris, we were staying quite a way out, but the suburb was pretty and all the streets were pathed and flat. However, that meant nothing, because the morning I got up to run, it had snowed over night and it there was white everywhere. It's the first time I've run in snow, and it was particularly hard as everything was white, I had no idea if I was on the footpath, in the middle of a paddock, on private property or running up the centre of the road, it was all the same, white, white, white. I could see the lights of Disneyland in the distance and I thought, I will just run there and back. Ten minutes into the run, I started to freeze, I thought I was rugged up, but the cold just seeps in, my feet felt like ice, and of course my nose was tingling, in a bad way that is. I was only our for half an hour and I had to return to the hotel, as I was so very cold, and disappointed, if I can't run for half an hour, how can I run a marathon in two weeks? When I entered the foyer the English speaking receptionist said "do know its -10 degrees our there?", I could only nod as my facial features were frozen and couldn't move. Extremities can be a real problem in the cold, toes, fingers and nose seem to take the brunt, but I've discovered another extremity on this trip, the bum. My bum gets so cold when I run, that I'm wondering is there is such a thing as a bum warmer..when I lowered myself into the hot bath after my run in Paris, I'm sure I heard a sizzle and saw steam coming off the water!
After Paris , I met my other son and his two mates and we all flew back to Geneva and then onto the French town of Morzine to have our skiing week in the French Alps. The whole crew (10 of us) were back together and everyone was excited about hitting the slopes, for most of my family it was the first time we had seen snow, let alone tried to go down a hill on it!
I mentioned to a few people before I commenced this trip, that the Bean's in Europe would be like a National Lampoons' Vacation movie, and I haven't been far from the mark. Everything and anything has gone wrong on this trip, from our hotel getting tear gassed to all the kids bags getting lost for 5 days, to crazy delayed flights, to my sons getting picked up by the Italian police on Christmas day for play fighting in the street (typical Aussie boys), the girls and I getting lost on a Paris subway at midnight,and much, much more, the people we are traveling with cannot believes the run of bad luck we have had..now let me describe just one afternoon in France for the Bean family.....
I believe in Murphy’s Law, not because I agree with it, but because over the years it has proven to apply to me on numerous occasions. On the second day in Morzine the 10 of us decided to hit the French Alps to ski. The sun was shining and there was an abundance of snow. My girls and I hit the nursery slopes and the boys went off to try snowboarding. At lunch time we met up and everyone was happy with their efforts. My 14 year old decided she had had enough so David took her back to the base of the hill where she could catch a free bus back to our chalet. The rest of us went back to skiing. At one point I was riding high in a chair lift taking in the breathtaking view and thinking “Could life be anymore perfect?”, bad mistake, as that’s often when Murphy chips in; from below my chairlift, I heard a lot of aussie voices calling my name, I looked down and four of the five boys were there, yelling out “Marie, Jonnie has broken his wrist and been taken down the mountain in an ambulance”, I just looked straight ahead and thought “Of course he has”. I quickly got off the lift, rounded Rosemary up from the nursery slopes and we had to get ourselves down to the bottom, return all our skis and then find which medical clinic he had been taken to. I found it on the second go, where one pale face, very cold and sore boy was sitting in the waiting room. He was told that his wrist was broken in two places, his choice was to have surgery or have a local and the doctor could try and manipulate it back into place, "a strong Aussie boy like you should be able to take it," the doctor’s words not mind. So Jonnie opted for the latter treatment and there we were; an English doctor, a French nurse and two Aussies (no it’s not the start of a joke!) in the surgery, Jonnie was as white as a sheet and looked like he was going to pass out, I was holding him down, but feeling very weak at the knees and the doctor was working on the wrist as if it was a lump of plasticine. The agony was worth it though as the following ex ray showed that the wrist was back in place and only needed plastering…..now while I’m dealing with one child in the doctor's surgery in Morzine, I was totally oblivious to the fact that only two blocks away my 14 year old was in a French Police station being interrogated by 4 Gendarmes! She had accidently missed her bus stop, so she got off at the next one and decided to walk back. Now I’m sure she did look a sight with just her ski boots and no skis, very disheveled and typical of a moody 14 year not looking too happy to be walking home in the ski boots. Well the French police thought this was an unusual sight so they wanted identification and an explanation, both of which were not forthcoming. Madeleine is the quietest, shyest 14 year old you could meet and with four Gendarmes yelling at you in French, she promptly burst into tears. The police thought she had been attacked so they took her back to the station and had her in tears for two hours, before they finally decided to believe her story and take her back to the chalet. Poor David had arrived home to the chalet earlier and was very worried to see Madeleine not at home, so he was frantically driving around Morzine looking for her, luckily the police and he pulled up to the chalet at the same time, and he was shocked to be aggressively told off by the four of them and Madeleine dumped in his care, with a finally warning, she is black listed for using the local bus.
David, came to pick Jon and I up from the medical centre, and told me the other goings on across town, of which I was beside myself, so home we rushed to check what had happened to Madeleine, then off to sort out slings and medications for Jon. I arrived back home at 7pm, climbed the stairs to the lounge room, to see 8 kids lounging around on couches and bean bags, laughing at an old episode of the Simpsons, thats a sure sign that all is well in the world again. I was still in my full skiing outfit, David gently guided me to an armchair, stuck a gin and tonic in my hand and there I sat for half an hour until the shock wore off…I wonder what National Lampoon has in store tomorrow!
My European Marathon (at last)
Ok, now back to the running...What Running?
At this stage of a marathon training program I should be tapering, but I have nothing to taper from as I have not run more than 14 km in the one go since I have been here. I have made a pathetic effort, so my theory is now, just don't bother! Whatever I do now will have little bearing on what happens in the marathon, at least that's what I'm telling myself. I tried to go for an hour run in the village of Morzine, but it's just too dangerous, there are no shoulders on the roads, the ice on the roads is an accident waiting to happen and the alternative is to run on snow paths, which is like running on the beach, but 30 degrees colder.
My approach now is to eat, drink and worry about it on the day...top advice from a running coach!
I fly to Bournemouth in two hours to run my European marathon tommorrow. Now I am nervous, can you run a marathon on no training?, and a tough marathon at that. The marathon website is full of warnings about the terrain and weather, we have to carry a back pack with everything but the kitchen sink in it, I've never carried anything in a marathon. The course looks stunning but tough and it sounds like the weather is going to be cold and blustery.
I have made a list of tips that I've decided should be followed if you want to run a marathon overseas:
-Run the marathon at the start of your trip, not the end...because all I've done for the past weeks is worry about the looming marathon..this way you can have all your training done before you leave and it doesn't have to interfere with your holiday
-Don't learn a new sport two weeks before a marathon- Skiing for instance, it is great fun, but after a couple of weeks of skiing every muscle in your body is either tight or sore or just plain tired
-Don't stay in a country two weeks before a marathon that has the best wine and cheese in the world, as the temptation is too great
-When running in Winter be prepared with your gear, although I don't think anything could of kept me warm running in these sub zero temperatures
-Research your marathon before you enroll..don't pick one and then look at the website two weeks before the race to discover that it is considered to be extremely tough, with the average marathon time taking 4 hours 38 minutes!
- Find out what you need for the race before hand, in this instance I have to carry a waterproof jacket, my own drinks and snacks, a thermal blanket, mobile phone etc in a back pack..it's mandatory so I have to go shopping when I get to Bournemouth to try and buy these things
Ok guys this is it, Next time I write I will have run my 6th marathon...I hope
Never, ever, never, ever do a trail Marathon....if you never listen to any of my tips ever, just listen to this one! It was a nightmare, a 6 hour nightmare!!
Trail running is great for a 10 km, or even a half is hard but can be done, but not a marathon, not on the Portland Bill course anyway.
There were certain indicators from the start that should of tipped me off that I wasn't up to this sort of running...when I arrived 95 percent of the 130 marathon group were young, fit strong men, who were decked out in all the top trail running gear..I looked like the eldest there (or at least I felt like the eldest) and there were only about 20 women if that..the warnings by the organisers were very strong, and harsh and it sounded as if you didn't plunge down a cliff to your death, you would certainly fall and drown in a mud puddle!...and 200 metres into the run we had a grass (mainly mud) hill in front of us to tackle and I could see that the front runners where going up on their hands and feet...it was then that I thought "Oh my God, what have I done"
The course was two loops of Portland Bill, a small island joined to the township of Weymouth in the South of England. It is the most picturesque place, very rural England with the amazing, rugged, sea landscapes from all sides. Some of the most beautiful I have seen and that's saying something from someone who grew up on the Great Ocean Road in Victoria.
However, the course had everything you could ever encounter on a run, it was up grass hills, that were quickly turning to mud from the runners, down stone cliffs and back up again, mud paths that were perilously close to the cliff edge, that one little slip could of sent you into the cold, cold soup below, but all that was easy compared to the nightmare they call The Shingle. A surface I had never run on and hope to never encounter again in my life..
the Shingle is a stone or pebbled beach, and in this case (which the locals tell me is a Englands most talked about shingled beach) it was a hill of stones and we had to run on the top of the hill, it goes for 18 kms however, we were lucky, or unlucky enough to have only two kilometeres, over two loops that's 4km. It took half an hour to do the 2km shingle, so really I spent one hour of my run on it!
I discovered there are three ways to attack the Shingle-
1. Try to run it, but you quickly realise that your feet are just digging into the stones and the more you run, you don't go forward you just dig yourself a big stone hole
2. Try to do a Basil Fawlty like walk on it, by taking crazy big steps, that way you can move faster than running but it is still very strenous and slippery
3. Sit down on the Shingle and cry until someone comes to rescue you
On the first lap, I hovered between 1 and 2..one the second lap I hovered between 2 and 3
The worst thing about coming to the end of the first lap, was knowing that I had to go around again. The first loop which was supposed to be 21km took me 2 hours forty minutes, now I usually do a half marathon in 1 hour forty five minutes..so I nearly freaked when I saw my time..I knew then that things were not going to be good.
I have used a lot of mental strength over the years in my running in fact on some occasions that is all I have had left..but I have never used it the way I had to, to get myself to run another lap of this nightmare course..I just wanted to throw the towel in at the half way mark..but of course I talked myself through it..I had a lot to lose if I didn't finish, I would have to come back to Europe and do another one.."Come on your half way there, one more loop"..but in my head it wasn't the loop, it was really the two kilometre shingle that had me shaking in my boots!
The seond lap was harder, because I was buggered and the course was really churned up, because of all the runners, and the half marathoners had joined in as well, so some of the paths were mud, and I found I couldn't run throught the mud, it was too slippery and dangerous.
To reach the Shingle which was at the 35km mark, you had to come down off the top of some very high cliffs through a grass paddock..it was very steep and second time round very slippery, I just came down on my bum, and all I could see below me was the dreaded stone beach. At this point I was over it, so I just tried to get across it as best I could, once back on the road, I had a couple of Kilometres to go before my hell was over.
When I ran over the finish line, there was no fanfare or greetings, I had to stick my own chip in the counter which showed I took 5 hours and 56 minutes, that was shock enough, then I realised that they had run out of all drinks and food! We were given a meal ticket with our entry fee and I handed mine in because after 6 hours of running hell I needed something, only to be told the food had run out.
I asked if I was the last one home and they said "no there is a lot more runners out there". Then after walking around dazed for a few moments with nothing to drink, I thought I had better leave..not before chatting to a few runners though who told me that they were wearing GP Systems, and by their watches they had clocked up over 52km!! I knew it was more than a marathon distance, another couple told me that they had run it last year and the course had been changed this year, this year it took them and hour longer..now that doesn't seem right...and to add insult to injury they told me the Shingle was in it last year but only for 500metres!!
Then more insult to injury, they had run out of my sized shirts, so I got a huge down to my knees one..I didn't have the energy to complain, in my disgust I called my local taxi driver to come and pick me. I was on good terms with my elderly, large, english taxi lady, she had been driving me around the island for a couple of days, she even stopped at the supermarket and waited while I went in and loaded up on gatorades and snacks and then drove me back to my B and B near the lighthouse on the hill.
On parting she said, " Well look on the bright side love, at least you didn't have to run on the Shingle, like I saw some silly buggers doing this morning", I didn't have the heart to tell her that I am the silliest bugger in the world, I just thanked her and hobbled into my little haven.
The owners of the B and B had taken me under their wings and treated me like family from the day I arrived. Salt of the earth English country people, they had even made me porridge and toast that morning and drove me to the marathon start, so they were very interested to hear how I went. Heather was aghast at my story, she said she is going to write to the local paper complaining, and as for running on the Shingle, they couldn't believe it!
Anyway..the highlight of the day was climbing the stairs to my little attic room, with it's views of the wild sea, having a hot, hot shower and climbing into bed with my gatorades and lollies and staying there for hours contemplating the race. Amazingingly I felt pretty good, the relief that is was over and knowing that I have run the toughest race of my life was immense...and of course I'm over half way through my running goal now..four continents down, three to go..bring on the Americas!!
The next day I was amazed at how well I felt. I didn't think I would be able to get out of bed, but I jumped out with minimal muscle soreness, which certainly didn't correspond with the 6 hour marathon I had completed the day before. I had a very sore left foot, in fact it felt like it could of been a stress fracture( I'm blaming the Shingle of course) so I was hobbling but other than that I felt great. Heather made me a huge slap up, proper English breakfast, that went down a treat. I caught a bus back to Bournemouth where I was staying for one night before flying back to France the next day. Unfortunately I couldn't explore around Bournemouth as much as I wanted due to my foot and the wet and cold weather.
I was happy to arrive back in France and thrilled to see that the weather was still good and there was plenty of snow as I couldn't wait to get back into skiing. The sore foot lasted a few days, but amazingly didn't affect the skiing as your feet are locked so tightly in the boots that you feel nothing below the knee.
Tommorrow I start my long journey home on what has been a wonderful experience for myself and my family.