Ill Concieved Plans Poorly executed

Prague International Marathon

I knew it would be hard; the first Marathon was a journey of discovery. This time it was different. This time I had an inkling of what it involved. This time I knew I could make it to the end. This time I had to fight the devil of complacency. This time I had ideas about target times, pacing and rest. The only thing in my favour was that over time I'd forgotten about the pain and commitment. Well mostly I'd forgotten about the commitment. Somehow I had remembered the pain. This time I had a training partner, my little lurcher Loopy, who was willing and able to come out on all but the longer runs. This time it would be different. This time I would run the Prague Marathon.

Prague is a beautiful city, we spent a happy Saturday doing the sights and living the life. This is the reason I do Marathons overseas, so I can go to places that I've never been to before. I could of course go to these places and not indulge in idiotic sports events but where would the fun be in that? The only downside was that I had to limit my intake of beer and that's a real hardship in Prague.

The start of the race had the air of a small town fun run rather than a major city marathon. The atmosphere was superb and the mix of nationalities amazing. The whole thing kicked off at nine on the dot and a few minutes later I was over the start line. We started off in the old town square headed over the cobbles towards Charles Bridge and on to high speed sight seeing tour of down town Prague. I was here and doing it, life was good and I was feeling fine, if just a little emotional in finally starting after the months of training runs. I sort of missed Loopy pulling at the lead but somehow I doubt she would have made the distance. The route took us in a big loop and back into town. At 10k it was all looking good. A 12k there was a yell from the crowd; my supporter had spotted me on her way to the finish line via a number of coffees in a number of cafes.

We headed out the other side of Prague past the Opera house and some fine cubist architecture to follow the river. The 20k mark pasted and I was running at a consistent pace. It was good; at this rate I would exceed my meagre expectations. The half way point came and went and with it a good half marathon split. We headed back towards Prague only to turn off left over the bridge to start on the carriageway of doom.

At 25K it started to go wrong. This part of the route was an out and back along a dual carriageway, Slightly uphill to the 30k mark, Slightly energy sapping to the 30k mark. It was killing. The tarmac sucked the energy from my very soul. The temptation to just say "sod this for a game of soldiers" was just overwhelming. If I'd not got into a conversation with a guy from Sutton Runners who was also having a bad patch I think I might have joined the gathering band of retirees on the side of the road. The turn could not have come quick enough. I'd had it. I stumbled along the next couple of K to the 32k Mark and stopped. It all hurt but I was still a long way from home. I staggered a few meters a mumbled to myself "it's only 10 bloody kilometres, you can do that" or words to that effect. The walk broke into a run for a few more K and then declined into a walk, and then a run and then a walk. The low point was watching one of the pace makers passing and not being able to latch on. My target time had passed and there running down the road was my outside time, the one with zeros in, the one that I'd told anybody who would listen was the one I was going to beat. My self-motivational muttering turned distinctly Anglo Saxon. By a combination of walking, staggering and running I made it to the 40k feed station and fuelled up on drink and sugar cubes. I was going to finish running. I hadn't come all this was to screw it up now. I crossed the bridge and headed to the cobbles. One K that was all. I was going to do it. 500 meters and the end is in sight. There was no chance of a big finish now, just a chance to stop this silly game with a bit of pride. The line came, and I stopped, completely exhausted. Water, banana, finishing medal and two large beers later I was slightly more human.

Next time it'll be different. Next time……….