100 up in Malta

I was enormously touched this weekend by the number of people who came out to Malta to help me celebrate my 100th marathon, I never dreamed there would be so many people there. For someone who counts herself as a bit of a misanthropist, I appear to have a lot of very good mates and count myself extremely lucky. My ears were burning, however, on Saturday evening after we'd witnessed a day of torrential rain and bracingly cold temperatures, everyone must have been cursing me for dragging them out to run a marathon in the pouring rain. Together with the high winds on Sunday morning, my promises of sunshine seemed quite hollow. Honestly, I did get a tan last year, and there's proof of the sun on the marathon's website with a photo of me running past a huge triumphal gate in a crop top (funnily enough, I have no memory of the gate, and didn't even clock it this time round). It didn't look very likely this time round. 

So after all the rain on Saturday, there was enormous amounts of standing water about, Malta doesn't seem to put much emphasis on drainage. Within the first few miles there was a huge puddle that had us teetering along the edges like precious brats who don't want to get their shoes muddy. The best was later on, a small pond covered the road for about 100 metres. The resourceful Maltese had placed a low dry stone wall along this road complete with concrete lid, about 30 centimetres wide, perfect for balancing along to keep your feet dry though the climb up, the fallen down bit in the middle, the road sign to duck under and the jump off weren't most ideal if you were racing flat out. 

I of course wasn't racing flat out but did get predictably carried away with the downhills. I knew I'd probably blow up a bit, just like last year, but this wasn't about time really, sub 4 was all I wanted for my #100. So the first 15/16 miles averaged about 8 minute miling but the pre-race tea was proving extremely diuretic, and distracting. At 25k, I just had to stop in a handy field. This field also contained a horse who seemed quite curious about his visitor and decided to wander over to have a closer look. Maybe it doesn't get many runners visiting him. 

By this point, you start to feel like you're in an Escher drawing. You start at Mdina at the top, then run around in extremely confusing loops, doubling back on yourself, visiting the stadium over and over again, running the same patch of road in different directions, seeing the Mdina fortifications from every possible angle. Trying to figure out where the hell you've been is futile. But there is lots of downhill, and the sun came out, and the half runners were frequently very encouraging, and the road was wide enough to get around the walkers and for the 1/2 runners to pass. 

I was really enjoying the run, the sun on my back, the downhills, the congratulations thanks to the "100th marathon today (yes really)"  on my back. Running past a brass band playing the Brazil theme tune was also pretty memorable. A great race to finish on, and in stark contrast to the cold grizzly grey of the London 50k last weekend. By the last 7k I was bushed (they don't get easy no matter how many you do) and there were a few walking breaks, however Anna Seeley caught me up and dragged me into the finish, thanks Anna! She mentioned it was a fine coincidence we ran part of her first marathon together and now part of my 100th. 3'42 was better than hoped for, by a long way, and my 7th fastest ever. I'm definitely fitter and better rested than 4 months ago, even with Wokey 1/2 and the London 50k in my legs, so the 3'30 is the next logical goal. Yeah yeah, about bloody time. 

There was a superb reception at the finish, Helen had won the ladies' race and Mark had smashed his PB. There were other PBs and excellent performances too so the Laurent Perrier went down very well indeed, even in paper cups from Burger King. Standing in the sunshine with my mates, waiting for the other finishers and drinking champagne was just what I hoped for. It goes without saying that the party later on was fairly messy, but I was honoured to have so many people there, from Fetch, the 100 club and from the 10 in 10. There were as many sore heads as there were sore legs the next day. Gaddafi missed a trick though, there were a few people heading to Blighty via Malta from Libya, all he needed to do was get hold of a marathon t-shirt, hobble off the plane and everyone would think he was just another beardy old bloke who runs marathons. The Libyan refugees were probably slightly taken aback by the juxtaposition of an SBS emergency extraction from the desert and a bunch of rather worse for wear runners mucking about like children. I've never had an announcement on board a flight before, so it was a pretty special surprise to hear the congratulations over the tannoy. It was even more of a surprise when the chap got very confused and also awarded me the win, poor Helen! 

It was a top weekend all round (ok, apart from the terrible weather on Saturday and some awful food). I'm so glad so many people were there to share it with me, and I'm so glad I didn't stuff it up by trashing myself beforehand, or getting knocked over by a bus, or DNFing, or missing my flight, or any of the other million things that could have gone wrong. Sunday wasn't just for me, it was for everyone who's helped me get to the end of 2,620 miles (and some ultra change): my family, the 100 club, the 10 in 10-ers, a huge number of Fetchies and Mark. (Blimey, this is turning into an emotional, over wrought Oscars speech) Anyway, you're all fabulous, and I couldn't have done it without you.