Wings for Life 2015, Porto

Porto is the second largest city of Portugal. It lies at the mouth of the Douro river that pours into the Atlantic Ocean. It's famous for giving the world the alcoholic drink known as port, made from grapes grown in the Douro valley and fermented and aged in cellars at the river bank close to the coast.

For some reason I chose this city when I registered for my second Wings for Life run, many months ago. It may have been due to the fact that a flight to Porto was available from Brussels at a low cost. I'm not really sure why. I was just a bit concerned that, since Portugal lies quite close to the Mediterranean, a long distance race in May might turn out to be too hot for comfort.

I needn't have worried one bit about this. I should have known that, being at the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, Portugal is the place where the humid oceanic air hits the European mainland, there to precipitate as rainfall. I should have worried, instead, of the possibility of rain on my big day in Porto.

The forecast said rain from 10 days ahead, and it wasn't wrong. We gathered in the Placa Galica after 11 in the morning wearing all sorts of plastic covers, waited to hand over our bag of clothes, and gathered behind the starting banner. As is my custom, I sat down on the ground amid a crowd of standing runners waiting for the start, hugging myself and trying to occupy as small a surface area as possible to avoid getting cold or wet.

Off we went! I forgot all about the rain the moment we began to run. My only concern was to hit the right pace: 4 minutes 52 seconds per kilometre, which I later realised was 3 seconds per kilometre too fast for my target. I kept very close to this pace, then we started the downhill section of the run. This is where the kilometre splits became quite fast as we approached the coast.

Then we hit the coast. And the Atlantic Ocean hit back. A strong south south westerly wind was blowing in from the sea, straight into our faces. The pace slowed down to 5 minutes per kilometre, and it never picked up after that.

Pity. It was a beautiful route. We set off close to the city centre, turned left, in front of "my" hotel, right and left again along a long road towards the coast. We entered the industrial district and then the coast road. Two days later I discovered this to be a spectacular route - during the run I was only concerned with maintaining the pace, also by sheltering behind other runners.

We followed the coast road back into the mouth of the river Douro, approaching the popular wharf (the Ribeira) close to the landmark Luis I bridge. This was at about 19 km, and by this stage I had given up on checking the time splits. They were consistently slower than my target pace and I thought, why stress myself? Looking at the watch was only causing discouragement, so I concentrated on catching up rivals and going as far as possible before being caught by the Catcher car.

We crossed the bridge towards the Gaia side of the river and kept going along the river bank, again approaching the Atlantic coast. The route profile on the event website had mentioned a sharp uphill at 21 km. I braced myself for this, but it never arrived! Finally, at about 24 km there was a hill of sorts, rather steep in fact, but it was over after a couple of minutes or so.

25 km.

Straight into a fierce wind from the Atlantic. We had already heard the cacophony of the Catcher car from the other side of the river. The rate of approach of this car relative to my pace was 4 kph, but the moment you hear it, even from afar, you think, I'm doomed. I was tired and the wind made it much worse.

26 km.

By this stage it was difficult even to keep on running. Last year in Ypres I was caught at 28.3 km, and the target this year was to beat that distance. Now, I didn't care and I just wanted to be caught and to stop.

27 km.

A final effort and I would actually beat my target! Then I heard the cacophony coming up from behind, and none too soon.

The worst part of this event, and something I hope will be improved in future, is getting back to base at the end of the effort. They have shuttle buses taking runners back from stations placed at intervals of 5 km: at 15 km, 20 km, 25 km and so on. It was bound to happen that I would be "caught" exactly in the middle between two stations. The walk straight into the storm towards the 30 km mark lasted for most of eternity. I barely managed to stop the last bus coming back from 30k. Inside the bus, a caring soul took pity on me and handed me an unused reflective sheet to cover myself during the trip back.

My official result was 27.45 km, quite high up in the general standings in actual fact, but worse than my first Wings for Life in Ypres.

For various reasons. Three weeks earlier I had run a full marathon, from which I had probably not recovered sufficiently. The wind did not help at all, and I probably started too fast. Looking back at my best running performances in the past, quite often they happen when I start at an easy pace. To make matters worse, I helped myself to too hearty a breakfast. Bacon, eggs, sausage, the works.

Ah yes, I almost forgot. I'm yet another year older than I was in Ypres.

Having said all this, Porto was a great experience. I'm more than ever determined now to do all the other Wings for Life locations, including India, Peru, Melbourne, Taiwan, Florida and Niagara Falls. By the current situation, this project will take me up to the age of 86. By then I will be happy even if I don't achieve 28.3 km as I did in 2014 in Ypres...

And now it's 15 marathons! Vienna, 12 April 2015

Two years ago I declared on this blog: that's all folks! That was after the Rotterdam marathon, when I slowed down to a walk for several times during the last 7 km. I reasoned, then, that marathons were taking too much out of me. Then I thought, no, this is not right. It can't be that my last marathon should be a quasi-failure. I'll have another go at a slower pace, without any time pressure, just run all the way from start to finish.

Various mishaps including some injuries, hot weather and a strong bout of demotivation kept me from fulfilling my wish. Then came a landmark Birżebbuġa 5k on a hot and humid August afternoon in Malta, which I barely managed to run through. It was there and then that I decided that I would build up to a marathon. I aimed for Paris on 12 April, but this was fully booked by January, so I had to choose somewhere else... I opted for Vienna on the same date.

Not without further setbacks... during a usually harsh Belgian winter (thankfully, without too much icy conditions) I built up to 3h 17m, which I ran 3 weeks before the marathon. During my taper I ran a 16 km race on the second weekend before last and a 90 minute run in Malta the last weekend before the event. The very last week I felt very sluggish - it was almost as though I had forgotten how to run.

I'm now thinking that a 3 week taper is too long for me. But that's something to consider (maybe) the next time.

I had decided not to look at my watch at any time during the race. I would just run with the flow and take it easy. It's what I did almost throughout. A look at my 5 km splits shows how consistent was my pace:

KM 5	KM 10	KM 15	KM 20	KM 25	KM 30	KM 35	KM 40	KM 42
00:25:29	00:25:46	00:25:39	00:26:15	00:25:49	00:26:33	00:28:05	00:27:56	00:12:44

Quite clearly, weariness struck somewhere between 30 and 33 km, although I didn't realise this at the time. I was determined and happy that I was cruising to an easy 15th marathon finish.

One thing I didn't like about the Vienna marathon was that a relay marathon takes place on exactly the same route at exactly the same time. You don't notice this much except at the handover points, where crowds of runners wait for their companions to show up. During the late stages of the marathon, however, these relay runners do create a problem. Three hours and 35 km into a run, with your leg muscles understandably not at their very best, sprightly upstarts come up from behind, fresh from their doing nothing, and overtake you at breakneck speed. I knew I had started to slow down a bit, but I didn't know whether I was being undertaken by fellow competitors who were doing the marathon like me, or whether it was the relay runners running at their fast 10k pace.

At the 39 km mark my curiosity had the better of me. I was happy with my performance so far, and wanted to estimate my finishing time. 3h 24m. That could well give me a 3h 35m finish, a fantastic time! A minute or so later I realised I had made a bad miscalculation. It was THREE, not two kilometres to go. It was a terrible blow psychologically. I was already bracing myself for a final flourish, only to realise that I still had more than 15 minutes to go!

The long, straight final 2 kilometres were long, straight, slow and never-ending. It was really difficult, and I thought I wouldn't even make 3h 45m. But I did keep running and never even considered slowing down to a walk.

I crossed the finish at 3h 44m 20s net time. Full time is a bit more - the time taken to reach the starting line at the beginning. I had achieved my target by running from start to finish.

As is often the case with these large city marathons, the walk from the finish to the clothes containers was much too long. You're dead on your feet, and all the way you are thinking, over and over, "never again!"

Long distance running permitting during the hot summer months, for my next target I'm very much interested in the Maratona del Lago del Garda - along the banks of the lake with the mountains of the Alps to serve as backdrop...

A long way

In August last year I took part in a 5 km race in Birżebbuġa, Malta, the village where I was born. I was out of shape. Demotivated. Up to a couple of months earlier I had been harbouring the idea of building up to a marathon in October. All such plans were scrapped due to excessive heat and lack of motivation. Too many runs resulted in exhaustion and soaking wet shoes. I gave up. Most races I was doing I was succumbing to a strong urge to slow down to a walk.

There was some motivation, however. A demotivated runner doesn't take part in a race on a hot and humid August afternoon in Malta, at a temperature of 33 Celsius. But, still, I wasn't in great shape, and my target on the day was to run through the 5 km without slowing down to a walk. Just that. Loads of people, beginners, rather overweight chaps and so on actually beat me, but I was happy that I had finished the 5 km run - five kilometres! - without stopping.

It was that day that I decided that I wasn't a spent force yet, and that I would build up to a marathon.

Fast forward by 7 months, during which there were ups and several downs, but the ups prevailed so that today I was able to run for 3 hours, 17 minutes 53 seconds, for approximately 36 kilometres. I took the standard route for my long run, stepping out of the front door armed with energy drink sacs around my waist, vaseline in strategic areas, heavy gloves, contact lenses, but no hand warmers for a change. I headed towards Jezus Eik, then into the Arboretum forest, on to Duisburg in Tervuren, further along country lanes in wide open plains with fields all around, until my watch said 1 hour 37 minutes 30 seconds. At that point I made a 180 degree turn and ran exactly the same route back.

I have to say, I did get tired during the second part, but that's the whole point of running for a long distance. To be able to run a marathon you have to get used to running on tired legs. I tried to distract myself from the tiredness by switching off my mind. At some of the later stages it was a bit like running in a trance. However, I didn't have any particularly difficult moments, and even managed to pick up the pace in the last few minutes. So, overall, it was a very satisfactory longest pre-marathon run.

All I need to do now, in the last 3 weeks before Vienna, is avoid getting injured or catching a cold. I'll keep on training to remain used to the activity running, but without overdoing it. Now in fact the long runs will be much shorter. I should be taking part in a 16 km race in one weeks' time (part of the annual aggregate competition in our Flemish Brabant region) in the same Arboretum environs where I normally do my training. This will be followed by week's normal running, and a slowing down to almost no running in the final week before the big day.

Whatever happens, I've come a long way since that hot and humid August afternoon in Malta.

Vienna, here I come

This morning I did my Wednesday morning long run of 2h30m, for a distance of about 27 to 28 km, in a temperature of 0 to 2 Celsius. I started off from the garden next to the town hall of Hoeilaart, while it was still dark, towards Overijse and back for a total of 10 km (53 minutes), until it became light and I could venture into the forest at Groenendaal and on towards the Foret de Soignes, and then back to the car at Hoeilaart.

The run went exceedingly well, which is why, finally, I decided to place my entry into my next marathon. Paris is long since fully booked, which is a pity, so I'm going to Vienna instead. Let's see how it goes. Many things may still go wrong - injury and illness in particular - but I can't postpone any longer for fear that, after Paris, even this could be fully booked, which would leave me with boring Milan or having to postpone to a different date.

I could also get fed up of running very long distances, but now I've committed myself I have to, somehow, go up to the required distance. Snow and ice permitting... i.e. yet something else which could disrupt my build-up.

But let's not concentrate on what may go wrong. I'm happy right now, because things are going according to plan, my running form is good, and even the weather is cooperating.

Back to humble beginnings

Three days ago I ran for 3 km - 15 minutes - a run which I repeated the following day. One day of rest, and today I did 26 minutes for about 5 km.

How did I get down here? Well, it's a long story... (that's from "Down in the Sewer" by The Stranglers).

It was a long series of setbacks, starting with my motivation crisis last summer, followed by a three week period in the peak of summer in Malta, a slight recovery beginning of September after my return to Belgium, another stop for a one week vacation, then an injury in my calf, illness, a repeat injury on my comeback run... I haven't trained regularly since two months, and hadn't run at all for a whole month before last Thursday.

During this upheaval there were some interesting, I would call defining moments.

I would say the low point of my crisis was the Duisburg 10 km race on 8 August, which I started too fast, also considering my bad form due to lack of sufficient training, and which ended up being the third out of six races up till then in the Scott2Run series where I had to slow down to a walk. Admittedly, the route was difficult, the second half being mostly uphill on difficult terrain including cobbled paths, mud, narrow passages and so on. Even my choice of shoes was wrong on that day.

In Malta, for 3 weeks starting a few days later, I knew what to expect. I managed some runs that took an immense degree of will power to complete in the heat, but it was generally low key running with the inclusion of a good deal of swimming. For example, here...

That was simply wonderful!

I was taking it easy on purpose, with the intention of taking it up a notch or two in September. There was a 5 km race close to the end of August in Birżebbuġa. The temperature was around 33 C, the air humid, and two hours before the start I was still undecided whether to take part or not. I drove there, poured a lot of water on top of my head, drank another lot, and gave them my name. My intention was simply to complete the distance without slowing down to a walk. 5 kilometres! I did in fact run the whole way, which was actually a bit of an achievement in those conditions, but it was there and then that I decided that I was going to pick myself up and build up to a full marathon.

Easier said than done.

My recovery started very well, actually. Back in Belgium, beginning of September, I was dreading the final race for this year's edition of the Scott2Run series. This was a 10 km race in Bertem. Double the distance of Birżebbuġa and including a hill that's the steepest I know of all races I've ever done. In two times 5 km loops. Amazingly, it turned out to be one of best runs this year, probably second to the February half marathon in Malta. I registered the best speed, over 13 km/h, as well as my best finishing position for the whole series. It was a defining moment because I found out that, in spite of the doom and gloom, there was nothing basically wrong with me. My success here was due to three main factors, which I hope to keep in mind for the future:

1. I started slowly. (Now, really, after 23 years of running, do I still need to remind myself of this?)

2. I knew what to expect, so I was mentally prepared for the killer hill (times two).

3. I was determined to keep running and never slow down to a walk.

Following this success all seemed fine. I could resume regular training and build up my distances. I took a break of one week for a family commitment, but after the resumption a sharp pain in my right calf brought me to a sudden halt. Literally. Then a cold, then again the same injury...

Which is why my training runs this week were 3 kilometres and 5 kilometres. I hope my calf is now fine, and I have to be careful and ease back into my standard training schedule very gradually.

I was in Paris recently. In another defining moment, I knew that I had to run through the middle of the Champs Elysees, the Place de la Concorde and along the banks of the river Seine. I decided to aim to run the Paris marathon on 12 April 2015. Now, if my comeback goes according to plan, I might just be able to make it.

As the saying goes, mighty oaks from little acorns grow...

The Wings for Life World Run - 4 May 2014 in Ypres, Belgium

On 4 May 2014, a new concept for running competition was born to the world. Instead of runners competing to reach a finishing line in the shortest time possible, they were to run as far as they could before being overtaken by a "catcher car" going at a predetermined speed. Half an hour after the beginning of the run, the car would leave the starting line at a slow pace and accelerate gradually but constantly until it overtakes all participants. The winner of the event is the last participant to be "caught".

At the same instant, in about 36 other locations spread out over six continents, another identical event is taking place, except that the route is different, and in many cases so is the time of day and the ambient conditions. But all 36 locations are linked as one, and the overall winner is the very last person who's still running in all of them.

The event was named 'Wings for Life World Run', and the idea was (also) to collect funds for research into a cure for spinal cord injury.

I liked the concept the moment I learned about it. I had just (for a change) given up on building up to a marathon. I was not in the mood to run all those long distances. This event, on the other hand, allows participants of all types of ability to take part, whatever their endurance. The Wings for Life website has a calculator that gives you the time and distance you would be running until you're caught, according to running pace. For me this resulted in 25 to 30 kilometres - 2h15 to 2h30 - just about as much as I was fit to go at my current level of fitness.

One of the 40 locations was in Belgium, Ypres to be precise. A one and a half hours' drive is close enough for me. Ypres is a gem of a town where I like to go, so I signed up.

A few days later, I strained my hamstring... Nine days before the event it was practically healed and I went for a final long run. Bad idea. The following day, at day minus 8, I could hardly walk. The situation didn't improve very much throughout the following week, so I thought I would have to forget the Wings for Life World Run. The day before the race I was still unsure if was able to run for 1 kilometre, let alone 30.

But I had paid to take part, it was the very first edition, I could give up at any point and my participation would still be valid, so why not go for it and see how it goes?

On Sunday 4 May, the lovely town of Ypres in western Belgium woke up to a day of absolutely perfect weather, one of those days which I like to describe as "without a temperature". The atmosphere was festive. The setting at the starting line couldn't be more impressive: a beautiful memorial with the names of hundreds of thousands of fallen World War I soldiers.

I set off slowly, treading very carefully to avoid upsetting my jittery hamstring. I hadn't run for the last 8 days. I didn't even know if I was fit to run. In fact, in my mind's eye I was still injured. Except that, to my huge surprise, the injury didn't bother me at all and I could maintain a steady pace of just under 5 minutes per kilometre - just as if I was doing a marathon.

The injury turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It forced me to avoid running completely for one week before the competition, so I was completely rested on the big day. It forced me to avoid the usual mistake of starting too fast. I ran at a calm but steady pace, on completely flat roads in the pleasant countryside that 100 years ago had been turned into hell on earth by warmongering world leaders. We kept going from one village to another, each lined with cheering spectators, the kilometre markers going by and my legs working like a dream.

At 28 km I was still feeling strong and confident that I would reach 30 km within 2h30... so imagine my disappointment a couple of minutes later when a number of motorcycles and a loud hailer from behind heralded the arrival of the catcher car. I had been so close to the 30 km milestone.

What a fantastic run. I later found that I'd been caught at 28.33 km, in 2105th position out of 34,000 participants world wide. The overall winner, Lemawork Ketema (surprise, surprise, an Ethiopian), who had run in Donautal in Austria, was caught at 78.58 km!

Wings for Life World Run, you've got me hooked. I've done the first event. Now, following the spirit of this competition, I hope to do all editions as long as my legs can carry me. Who knows, I could aim to do the world tour. Having started at 51, I would complete a round trip of all 36 locations spread over six continents at the age of 86.

Now that's an interesting target. No harm in dreaming...

A setback... or is it?

In spite of having announced my retirement from marathons after Rotterdam in April 2013, I had been aspiring to build up to another marathon this October 2014. My long runs had gone up to 2h45m (for approx 30km), but I was struggling to cover this much.

Last Sunday was the middle of a heat spell and less than half way through the run my right shoe was already completely soaked in sweat, the remaining distance to cover seemed endless... I decided to stop - and prepare properly for a 30km effort the following Sunday (today).

Today morning I started earlier on a make-or-break long run for my planned marathon. I would either resume the build-up in training or I would just have to give up. I drove to Tervuren Park about 15km from home, leaving a bottle filled with an energy drink at the doorstep, the idea being that I would pick up this drink in the middle of my run and go back to the car at Tervuren. 28 minutes into the run, on the first uphill stretch, the urge to stop again overwhelmed me, and stop is exactly what I did. I simply didn't feel like running for a long distance.

This of course spelt the end of my marathon aspirations. We're in the middle of summer. I'm suffering from severe lack of motivation, which, combined with the heat make preparation for a marathon in October very difficult indeed. I don't feel like doing it, I don't need to do it, so I'm not doing it.

Walking back, I realised that giving up was like a liberation. Interesting alternative scenarios opened up. I could take a break. I could take up cycling with occasional short runs whenever I feel like it. For three weeks in the upcoming hot Maltese August I could do a lot of swimming instead of running. I could resume the 2014 Scott2Run competition, for which I'm still in the running for a placing.

Five minutes into the walk back to the car I broke into a run, and, amazingly, I started running fast. The slow plod of my earlier run was still echoing in my head, but this new run was quick and sprightly. I had shaken off the burden of having to run long distances to build up to a marathon, and all of a sudden training has become interesting again, rather than a chore. I alternated some jogging with fast running for half an hour, for a decent total of close to an hour running today, and resolved for the next few months to mix it all up a bit.

Long term target - the second edition of the Wings for Life World Run in May (more on this in another blog post that's half completed). As for marathons... never say never again. Maybe winter would be a better time to run long distances.

I don't want to think about it.