Stockholm marathon - #104

This was meant to be a PB race and I'd done all those things you're meant to do for races like getting expert advice and training and tapering and thinking about strategy and stuff. I even had a pacer which was one of the thing worrying me the most, I have been known to get grumpy in marathons and it would have been a bit rude to have a go at the person trying to help me out. So all the ducks were in a row for Saturday, they'd even brought the race start forward to 11.30 and the weather was perfect apart from being a bit blustery.


The plan was for 7:55s and we started off right on pace. You usually have to hold yourself back in the first mile no? Especially if it's downhill? Not this time. Curious. The route is a very handsome one indeed in Stockholm, lots of long stretches along the water and a nice chunk through the park. It is, however, two laps with the first half of each lap net downhill and the second half net uphill and including a stonking big bridge. There's also a strong and admirable environmental aspect to the race, but water in cups rather than bottles and only on one side of the road makes for lots of congestion and many elbows. The Scandinavians are tall and the bulk of these elbows are inconveniently at female bosom height. Ouch.


The pace was feeling quite fresh very early on which I didn't like, I wanted the first half to be easy or at least easy enough to be able to have a bit of a conversation, there were some extraordinary outfits on show which I pointed and went Ugh at. Mark seemed quite happy trotting along beside me but soon looked a bit bored. By the time we'd done the first lap at 17k, I was already having to concentrate on my form and by the time we got into the park at 20k I was trying very hard not to panic. I have no idea why the effort level was so high but I've run enough of these marathons to know that you can have all your ducks in a row but you still need a bit of luck on the day and my legs weren't cooperating.


Anyway, we got through half way in 1:46 which indicated the 3:30 was off given how shit I was already feeling. I didn't mention any of this to Mark of course. The next target was 25k, then the dreaded 25-30k, my least favourite chunk by far. Ideally, you coast through to 25k, have a wobble in the next 5k (it's so FAR! I don't need to do this any more! I don't want another sodding medal!) then mentally it's all downhill from 30k. But getting to 25k wasn't easy and the undulations and cross wind in the park didn't help. Mark was now looking really really bored especially when I fell off the back on every single incline. I felt responsible.


So what do you do? You just keep going as best you can, while feeling like you're letting your coach down and boring the pants off your pacer. Shame I didn't get to try the pickled gherkins at 21k, or the vegetable stock at 33k but I was putting everything into it and was already feeling a bit sick. The camber was screwing up my right ITB and glute and the incline up the bridge raised a bit of discord. This was the only point where Mark urged me to put some effort in. I thought this was deeply unfair because if I wasn't putting any effort in up a 30m ascent in less than 1/2 a km, then I'm not sure where else I could have been. If he'd bullied me on the flat then maybe I could have worked a bit harder but not up that slope. Luckily I was too disappointed with myself to get grumpy so I just felt a bit more morose.


Off the bridge, right hip now really sore, Samba band on the corner (all the blokes drifted to the left to look at the young girls who looked quite chilly, and quite bored, giving me the first clear run round the racing line to the right), then on and on and on and on until the longed for coke oasis. It was flat and out of a huge, lorry sized container but it tasted like nectar. The sticky floor afterwards made us laugh too. The last 5 or so k are all uphill and it was all a bit tired. Very nice finish on the bouncey track in the Olympic stadium, shame the garmin came out quite so long (normally get 0.2-0.3k long, this was almost 0.6k extra), shame the medal didn't have a ribbon, shame I couldn't walk the 200m to the race village without slumping onto a bit of ground in a lot of pain for 10 minutes. At one stage, the waves were washing in and out, you know when you can hear the rushing in your ears and the sick rising in your throat because it hurts so much? Yeah, like that. I had to go down a ramp backwards. What a knob. The DOMS is still pretty bad and I think I may have been running on a broken toe (it's been uncomfortable for weeks but now is suspiciously immoveable, unweightbearable, very sore and very swollen). Why race a marathon and end up in such a mess when you can ease off a bit, only add 10 minutes to your time and have a great day out, eating gherkins, mocking all in one lycra jumpsuits and looking at the scenery? I feel like I missed out a little bit.


Oh yeah, the time, almost forgot about that. It was 3:38:37 which I'm not all that disappointed with to be honest, I don't think I could have run that much harder. Sure, the 3:30 was possible on paper but for whatever reason it wasn't going to happen on Saturday. I do know that I ran my legs off, and that I didn't think oh fuck it and start walking, and that it bloody hurt from about 19km, and that I had a very good pacer who could possibly have been a bit tougher on me but probably doesn't want to see me suffer too much. I'd quite like the 3:30 to happen when I'm not looking, like my other 3:3x PBs but there are plenty of other races.


Apart from that, it was a great weekend. I like bagging marathons in new countries especially in cool places with excellent company. Fuck the carbon footprint. And the cost. Did you read Mark's blog?