Good luck in the marathon on Sunday BB. I also got a chuckle out of your analogy - I often tell people I love the feeling I get after a run - its why I run.
So telling you to enjoy the marathon doesn't really make sense. But its what we do. I'll be waiting to read all about it and hope its a great day!
Bierzo Baggie Wrote:The plan is to get to 25k in about 2 hours and then see what happens. The 25k drink station is my opt-out clause as it’s a stone’s throw away from where I live. If the final 17 kms are too dreadful to contemplate I’ll use my “get out of jail free” card. If not, it’ll be a run-walk the rest of the way to Toral.
It turned out to be a bit like that. Reached the 25k drinks station in just over 2 hours. By then I’d had enough. Realistically I’d trained to run 25 kms, not 42 and I was more than willing to use my opt-out-cop-out clause for the second time in my running life. But then I got chatting to Manuel.
Manuel is a fellow who I’ve seen at all sorts of races over the last few years although I’d never actually spoken to him until now. He was running with his El Barco vest, El Barco (“the boat” being a slate mining town in neighbouring Galicia. The conversation started like this;
“¿Qué tal?... How’s it going?”
“Bahh, not bad. I’ve lost a bit of speed this year, but I shouldn’t complain I suppose. I’ll be 67 next month.”
“You what!!?”
Felt slightly uncomfortable about having even contemplated bottling out after discovering that the wiry chap bounding along at my side was 30 years older than me. I mean, I wasn’t injured. I’d got no real excuse for slinking off for a cuppa and an early bath other than the fact that I felt a bit tired, so onward, onward…
Manuel from El Barco, 66 going on 67, soon left me in his wake as I entered one of several walk phases.
The last 15 kms of the marathon of Toral de los Vados pass through a succession of elongated villages. The road is fringed by gently murmuring poplars, cherry trees bowing under the weight of their delicious fruit and tidy houses with neat gardens. People from the cities find it all quite attractive, paradise even. But I know this road off by heart and for me it is one hellish, interminable section of sweltering tarmac which has now defeated me on 4 of the 5 occasions I’ve tried to run it.
One by one the runners I’d overtaken in the first half of the race shuffled past me. I lost interest in what was around me and focussed on counting down the kilometre markers. Had hoped to get in around 3:30 but now I was struggling to avoid 4 hours. And it was hot. It always is. Even when it has been refreshingly cool for days on end and will be again for days afterwards, uncomfortable mid-morning heat is guaranteed on marathon day. This, along with the previously mentioned lack of spectator support and the endlessly flat road, makes the last 15 kms torturously…torturous.
What percentage of this suffering is just psychologically induced?
A fairly high percentage I’d suspect.
I was saved by “the wild bunch,” a group of guardian angels who appeared on their mountain bikes, totally unexpectedly and some 5 kms from the finish. Their banter and encouragement made all the difference. I began to feel much less sorry for myself and suddenly realized that I was knackered but not as knackered as I’d thought. I forgot about walking and even overtook a few people. Their presence eased me up the nasty little hill which takes us back into Toral de los Vados and the marathon finished, as always, with a lap of the decrepit athletics track and a final sprint down the home straight in front of a cheering grandstand. Crossed the finish line and carried on running straight to a pile of water melons…. Mmmm, this is why I run marathons.
For the record, I finished in 3:48 which was four minutes slower than last time around.
Raizor Blue from this parish was also present and finished in 3:19 but it’s up to him to give his side of the story..
And later, whilst checking out the race results, I came across “Manuel García, (DOB)1940, A.D. El Barco; 3:42:46”. Curiously the next finisher was born in 1986 and was the youngest runner in the whole race.
Some photos; Watermelons, the grandstand, the finishing line and the wild bunch. Thanks guys.
Congratulations, BB and Riazor Blue. Great race and report. I liked the way you changed your mind after knowing that Manuel was going to finish in spite of being so old. I´m glad you did the full marathon and finished less knackered than expected.
As for camino de Santiago, I´ll send you a private message to exchange phone numbers so that we can meet in Ponferrada on Wednesday 11th July if you can.
How are the legs old bean? My two blisters have burst nicely and I had the legs for a downill trot to the supermarket at lunchtime.
In the wildbunch foto one can just about see Riazor Blue on his way to a well earned beer - red shoes and the much more handsome Baby Blue in his arms.
Oh, and in the watermelons is the Galician arm of the Taliban wearing the blue and white vest. Matías is 56 years old and was rather annoyed at missing out on the three hours by 19 seconds this year. He dipped under the three last year by eight seconds and in the past marathon lunch he was dancing on the tables with his diploma.
I promise... honest... that I'll get a report up by Friday.
Well done fellas, and thanks for the report, BB. I hate the way you guys just shrug your shoulders and decide to turn out another hilly marathon in another ludicrous time.
I don't really hate it at all of course - I really admire your ability to do it. But it makes me wonder if I make too big a deal about embarking on my own marathon odysseys. I can't help it. They are major things to me. I hope they are for all of us.
"Reach for what you cannot". This is an essay I read recently by my great running hero, George Sheehan:
andy Wrote:But it makes me wonder if I make too big a deal about embarking on my own marathon odysseys. I can't help it. They are major things to me. I hope they are for all of us.
Hey, they are for me too, a road marathon takes more out of me than any other type of event. That's why I'll only do one every one or two years. Too much suffering for my liking.....
And the "forum effect" certainly helped me out the other day. If there's one thing I've learnt on here it's that if you've started....you finish:mad:
I´ve just read the interesting George Sheenan article although I didn´t necessarily identify with anything he said. Running for me is more of a habit and a part of my lifestyle than anything focussed on particular races or events (enjoyable though they are). Cant understand why George was so upset for not having suffered enough. Shouldn´t it have been the other way around?
Was much more impressed by the fact that the guy had 12 kids. How the f*** did he have any time for running.
Andy, heres something else to trouble you in a strange and impressive way. http://picasaweb.google.es/PEDRITOLINCE/...ISDEMALAGA
This is a race in the Picos de Europa over 45kms which is the toughest of its type in Spain and probably in Europe. It was held last weekend and was won by Salvador Calvo which literally translated means bald saviour (and funnily enough he is). Calvo is from nearby León and turns up at many of our local events (Toral, Aquilianos, Truchillas) and even got a mention on the BBC website earlier this year. Nice bloke strange hobby though.. http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/athletics/6672119.stm
I'd have to agree with those sentiments BB . . . I tend to get more focused towards a race but generally running has become something else for me, a part of my life that I welcome as I would an afternoon watching sport or an evening in the pub. It's a chosen pleasure, and one fo the few things I do that I consider to be entirely selfish.
You guys live in a wholly different running world . . . those pictures are inspiring! They make some of the pimples we tackle here in Sussex look like . . . well, pimples really. Staggering. 'A life less ordinary' seems appropriate for the Bald Saviour, no? Great stuff.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Bierzo Baggie Wrote:I´ve just read the interesting George Sheenan article although I didn´t necessarily identify with anything he said. Running for me is more of a habit and a part of my lifestyle than anything focussed on particular races or events (enjoyable though they are). Cant understand why George was so upset for not having suffered enough. Shouldn´t it have been the other way around?
Was much more impressed by the fact that the guy had 12 kids. How the f*** did he have any time for running.
Sheehan was a firm believer in "doing the best you can", and the article explains why he was upset -- he thought he could have done better. He was a highly competitive runner, and held the world mile record for his age group for some time. It goes without saying that I'm not that type of runner either, but I do find his attitude humbling and inspiring. That bloke who used to post on here -- what was his name now? Can't remember, but he was very big on this sort of attitude. (Ah yes "MLCM")
I don't think it's quite a straight choice between being 'event-focused' and 'lifestyle'. It's both for me, or at least I want it to be. I try to make running a part of my lifestyle but I'm capricious enough to let it drift now and then. I've learnt that I'm best able to keep it there by having an event as a target, and to keep my excitement levels high. It gives my running a structure, and helps keep me motivated when I might be tempted to not bother.
"We are all an experiment of one"
By the way, I was thinking about what I said the other day, and have realised I was wrong. I think it's just that you guys tend to post race reports far more than bog-standard day-to-day runs. As a result, it somehow seems that you're forever running these amazing races without doing any training! Silly of course.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
Now I just stick to the races but I did keep a proper diary here for exactly a year and I recorded all and every one of my runs. For subsequent years just click through the months again...it's all more of the same! :o
If I'm absolutely honest I don't think I've ever done "training" ..just running.
Don't understand why you should feel humbled by this George bloke. He was just pissed off coz he'd been beaten by his mates. Seriously, reading the incredible variety of stuff on the different training diaries (travel- films- football- music- gardening- fish farming- oh, and running) inspires me a lot more!
There are rumours of a 10k for this Friday. I saw it mentioned ever so briefly in a local newspaper.
10k for runners and walkers. Friday 20th July. La Placa.
The report goes on to explain how the event is part of a campaign by the Ponferrada Town Hall to encourage healthy sporting habits in peripheral neighbourhoods (barrios). La Placa is one such barrio and its just up the road from where I live. In fact I run through La Placa a couple of times a week. I think of it as the lost city. Theres one road in and one road out. It feels a bit like a ghost town and is connected to Ponferrada via the gypsy way or the donkey way depending on which weather-beaten old-timer youre talking to at the time. I prefer to call it the gypsy way because I see infinitely more gypos than burros. Anyway, after a five minute stroll up the gypsy road youll eventually come to the central plaza of the lost city, the peripheral barrio of Ponferrada where Fridays 10k will be staged.
Seem to remember that they tried the 10k thing about this time last year. We stumbled across it by accident whilst out for an early afternoon stroll. Some bright spark had decided that at 5 oclock on a July afternoon, with the temperatures inevitably in the high 30s, it was a good time to start a 10k. The result was a mere 5 or 6 participants, hardcore heat-seeking athletes, trotting around the plaza watched by a handful of bewildered locals from the terrace of a bar.
Whats going on? asked a neighbour.
Some sort of race I think, somebody replied.
So much for sport for all then. Now I dont want to sound overly negative but the road to La Placa is paved with good intentions. For one delirious moment it had even crossed my mind that I could push Lara around the course in her buggy. I even asked at the finishing line if there was much shade en route. At this point the Minister of Sport and full time bright spark, Mr Villanueva, suddenly came over all enthusiastic and gave me a pen and 2 caps. Mrs BB however, refused permission to expose our baby to an early dose of heatstroke and Mr Villanueva promptly snatched the caps back. Ive still got the pen ha ha.
They obviously learnt from last years experience as this year theres a 9:30pm start. Its also billed as non-competitive, whatever that means
Ill find out on Friday.
There was another mention of the La Placa 10K in the newspaper today which reaffirmed that the event is non-competitive. Does this mean that well all run together and that overtakers will be disqualified? It is also announced somewhat intriguingly that we will run around a secret circuit that will only be revealed just before the start. Stranger and stranger
Carrera y marcha popular de La Placa
Hey, in the end it was fun.
Arrived just as about 30 walkers of all ages, shapes and sizes were being sent on their way. 30 more runners were limbering up in the background waiting for their start 30 minutes later. With regards to numbers this was a big improvement on last year.
Everybody seemed to be wearing little stickers on their vests instead of race numbers. When I found the organizer, who turned out to be the great Chus Alonso, he told me not to bother with a number as it’d probably fall off and he hadn’t got any left anyway.
Lots of familiar faces. Mad dog Jorge the kamikaze of Truchillas was there. So was The Mighty Basurko, ultra-running butcher of Villafranca, full of tales from the Lanzarote Ironman ( 11 hours !!) Mr Villanueva the Minister of Sport was shooting around on a shopper bike with very small wheels and Chus Alonso was both “organizing” and running as usual.
The evening was cool and ideal for running. Everybody seemed happy and relaxed in the plaza of La Placa, so relaxed that when somebody shouted “ya!” at 9:30 dead it seemed a shame to spoil it all by running away. Anyway, we all set off and ran one lap of the barrio which I suppose was the non-competitive bit. Then it was each to their own.
I felt like I was running quite well but soon found myself right at the back of the field. Luckily the “secret” circuit was no secret to me as it went via the lanes, allotments and canal where I run every week and which is probably the most attractive part of Ponferrada for road running. 7 or 8 of the runners in front of me got lost though so I gained a few places .
We soon caught up with the walkers, many of whom decided to run as well, in particular the kids. Ran the last couple of kilometres with an 11-year old who was intent on beating me but we ended up finishing together. Cheeky young scally he was. By this time they’d run out of water at the finish line so I had to make do with… beer :o .
In the end it was closer to 9K than 10 but nobody was timing it in any case and I must say I enjoyed myself immensely and so did everybody else. Also enjoyed an afterglow of having run a tad faster than normal and a satisfying tiredness which helped me sleep later on.
I’m averaging a race every month at the moment and after chatting to fellow runners I’ve got another one ear-marked for August.
August 11th. 10K Losada del Bierzo. Homage to… Chus Alonso.
andy Wrote:It's almost like.... running porn.
Is such a thing possible?
If by that you mean that we spend hours online in the wee small hours furtively scanning websites to satisfy our curiosity . . . well, yes :o
This stuff is almost magical. Wierd and wonderful locations, local legends, secret trails, oddball heroes, even at some point a fabled hunchback. The Brothers Grimm would have loved this
I never tire of reading these engaging tales from Ponferadda.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
I’ve tried to “race” once a month since April and August’s jolly jaunt was all set to be the Chus Alonso tribute gig in Losada del Bierzo but I stumbled across this little gem in a village called Morla de la Valdería and ended up going there instead. I persuaded the normally reticent Miguel Mushroom to come along too by showing him the photos of last year’s event from the race web-site. Everybody seemed to be having a good time and one of the finishers was a big barrel-chested chap who ran in a Sporting Gijon top, a perennial yo-yo team from the Spanish second division.. ( bit like West Brom really). Plus there were lashings of garlic soup at the finish line. MM signed up in a flash. And so did I. In fact we filled a car this time. Mad-dog Jorge, he of the broken toe at Truchillas, came as well as did a guy called Oscar who is sort of, normal, so I don’t know what he was doing hanging around with us lot.
The next step was to get the maps out. On paper it didn’t seem too far away but the reality was a torturous drive up and over the lonely Morredero pass, past Teleno, the mythical mountain of the Asturs and down into the lost world of La Cabrera, the same way we’d taken for the Trucillas race in May. But this time we were to swing a left instead of right and head down the valley in the direction of the quaintly named Castrocontrigo (translation; hill fort with wheat). This section of road was a decent one considering the isolation of the zone and after dodging a few stray cows we arrived at Morla, a crumbling little place where the winters must be interminably lonely. In August though these villages come to life as the sons, daughters and grandchildren of a handful of elderly all-year residents, “come home” to spend a few weeks “en familia” away from the hustle and bustle of the cities. One such returnee is the man from Sporting Gijon who we spot almost immediately in the environs of the official race bar “El Chiringuito”. It’s also the only bar and here we picked up our race numbers minutes before the start.
The Race
The distance was billed as 8.9 kms, so this joins my burgeoning list of 11.2s, 9.75s and other mis-measured 10Ks. And the race itself is described as a “cross alpino” which might mean that it’s more akin to “trail running” than mountain or fell running (or simply that it’s shorter).
There wasn’t a big turnout. Us four and 30 or so others gathered next to the village church and listened to a briefing from a fellow with a loud speaker. Then an uncomfortable stony track took us up to the rocky crags which overlooked the village and then a steep descent brought us back down through fields of long grass and to the village again. The whole pueblo turned out to cheer us in and the focal point became “El Chiringuito” where drum and flute music wafted through the window along with the smell of garlic soup brewing. Drum and flute preceded “drum n'bass” by about five centuries and it's usually played by a one man band virtuoso although this time it was on CD. As music goes it’s a sombre,traditional sound as dry as a Castilian plain in August but the monotonous notes somehow befitted the surroundings if not the event. And it made a change from chariots of bloody fire!
The runners drifted in in ones and twos and the prizes were handed out amidst swarms of garlic soup guzzlers. Interestingly there was a prize for the last one home and a special prize drawn randomly from all the race numbers. Suspiciously the big man from Sporting Gijon won both and went home with two trophies, a leg of ham, a cheese and a bottle of whisky. Afterwards we met up with the great man himself in the bar. He actually tried to offload one of his trophies on us.Even Miguel Mushroom politely refused. A good time was had by all. Shame about the drive back. September's race to follow...
being a slate mining town in neighbouring Galicia. The conversation started like this;
