Message posted by: ian d.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times… [1]

Friday: made my goodbyes to my family as they went to school and work, and Chris picked me up at 10am to take me to the railway station. Train to London, tube to St. Pancras and about an hour’s wait for the Eurostar. God its a great service… fast, smooth, comfortable. Dozed on the way and listened to some triathlon podcasts from the excellent site tri-talk.com. Took RER to Chatellet Des Halles, where Sharon met me and we went bacxk to her house at Noisiel. (Sharon is an old friend of almost 20 years). Huge pasta supper

Saturday: Porridge for breakfast, then used the day to familiarise myself with the journey to and from the race. Fortunately Vincennes where the race start/finish is placed is on the same rail line where Sharon lives, so it was an easy ride to the suburb. Then the fun started! Despite the official instructions to the race site at the Parc Floral de Paris says to take RER to Vincennes as one transport option, the station is still maybe a kilometre or more away. that in itself isn’t a problem but there is no indication at the RER station of how to get to Prac Floral. In my awful French I managed to ascertain how to get there from various passers-by and eventually found the registration area, having also bumped into Denise who i ran around the Salisbury city 10K a month ago with. Once there the rest was a breeze – medical certificate quickly checked and passed (its French law – even Sharon’s 4 year old daughter needs one to participate in her dance lessons) and my registration c
onfirmed and my race pack – number and timing chip – dispensed. Tee shirt was grabbed and that was job done in less than 2 minutes in the end! Outside Adidas has a trade stand (there was a expo going on as well) with various freebies so with the day open to whatever I wanted to do i filled my boots with various freebies but very pleasantly a massage. Back at Chez Sharon roasted beef with a side bowl of pasta finished the day off.

Sunday: The big day arrived. I had slept well (I even slept through my first alarm!) and breakfasted on porridge and emptied what needed emptying. The weather was fairly cool it has to be said – so much for Paris in the springtime – and the forecast was for heavy rain, so having travelled with all my gear to cover any eventualities I plumped for three layers up top and running longs. Sharon and family were still sleeping as I let myself out of the house at around 8 am and headed into Paris. I was feeling quite relaxed … until the train got to Vincennes. The enormity of what I was about to experience then hit me… the largest race I’ve ever been in was a few hundred people at my first tri last summer, of course split up into waves… and my wave being around 75 in that anyway. Other than that the largest race I’ve been in is about 250 runners… 1% of today’s potential lineup! As I stood up to exit the train, so did half the bloody carriage! And this was ONE carriage on ONE
train 90 minutes before the start! At street level a large group of runners were all looking lost (as i had been 24 hours earlier) so i was able to provide directions (*smug*). At the baggage drop – same hall as yesterday’s expo and registration – it was manic. Managed to drop off my bag OK then queued for 20 minutes for the loo and took a call from my wife and my mate Nick who was himself running in a HM in St Poelten in Austria at the same time. I had contemplated a bib and braces approach to the loo but I had no paper and there wasn’t any left so it was a fleeting visit. Of course, once back outside everyman and his dog was using the bushes! I found the pink slow-coach corral and waited… nervous tension was now building and I had to force myself to stop jiggling on the spot and to r-e-l-a-x. It drizzled on and off. Just before the off I bumped into Denise from the Salisbury City 10K again and we walked towards the start

line as the gun went. 14 minutes later we got to the start line….

The race: I started well. Lost Denise early on in the throng of bodies but I did find the blue line which was almost washed out with the overnight rain. The going though was easy – I was very quickly into a rhythm and spot on for pace by the HRM. However… my HR was WAY high. Training runs recently have been well below zone 3 (Z3 lower end is 83% of MHR for me or thereabouts). I was already in the high 80s – and in fact it rarely dropped below zone 3 the entire race. I can only pout this down to event “madness” or overseas or something… Sallingstadt (Austria) back in November had been very high with HR… though Krems (also Austria) at New Year had been fine. But my breathing was easy – in fact, very easy – and I felt as if I could have easily held a conversation. Strange though… in a field of 150 I often have a conversation during a race. amongst over 21000 others I didn’t speak a word after a the first couple of minutes when I lost Denise! I had one further complicatio
n … by Km 3 I realised that my HRM footpod had been calibrated slightly incorrectly… it was around 10% out! It was showing 10% further than I’d really run… and this also meant I was running at about 10% slower than it was showing! I think it was the latter that really bothered me more.. that my planned race pace of 9kph was in fact going to be only a little more than 8 kph! I quickly realised this would push my potential race time out from 2:20 to 2:34 but figured it shouldn’t be a problem as I had the week previously managed 2 hours with no issues at all. We ran on past the top edge of Bois de Vincennes and were soon into the 11th arondissement. Despite using the loo at the start, I felt the stirrings of need again but by this time we were well into Paris.. but that didn’t seem to bother too many others and I thought “when in Rome” so stepped out of the route and joined another runner as he ensured that a bush in a small

park area was kept well sustained. Quickly back in the race I loped on towards 5Km and the first aid station for raisins and 500ml of water. The on/off drizzle continued but it wasn’t an issue… bands and discos were located at about every Km mark so the race was fun in itself… some of the bands were so good I wanted to stop and listen more. the sapeurs pompiers were also out in force, lining the route in places, once with the ladder extended over the road with guys on the top of it shouting encouragement; one band at around 8Km, maybe 9Km, had a HUGE tuba painted with tiger stripes that made me laugh, and their music was infectious – everyone was grinning. We ploughed on up to Bastille and past it, turned around a while later and returned there and the 10Km mark at 1:14 and change on the watch. I was still feeling good and easy and I took on another 500 ml bottle of water and washed own an energy gel with it. Bottles were good i concluded … it was taking me about 1 Km t
o sip through them and it removed a kilometre without having to think of anything The streets around bastille were brilliant… lots of support and shouting. Things started to go wrong at around 12K though… my right calf was very tight and sore, and my hip flexors were both painful. Not stabbing, just sore constantly. On we went, and the Kilometres kept dropping by… Around 14Km it was raining hard by now and my arms were getting cold, so I rolled down the sleeves that I’d rolled up about an hour before and swigged back the 500ml of energy drink I’d stored in my back pocket (I was wearing a cycling jersey). My calves and hip flexors were no longer troubling me … because my entire lower body ached like hell. Quite how I ran the next 7K I’m not actually sure. This is certainly the HARDEST thing I have EVER done – I reasoned afterwards my strength of resilve must be substantial (though maybe aged 46 one develops it over

time?). Certainly this was more painful than the time my walking boots fell apart in the Samarian gorge (Crete) and I had to walk out with improptu fashioned roman sandals made from the insoles of my boots and the laces… thank god for swiss army knives! Km 15 saw another 500ml bottle of water and half a banana and soon I was at 16K with only 5 km to go. On I ran, following the blue line… now passing dozens of people walking. We had re-entered the Bois de Vincennes now and the hard rain dropped back to incessant drizzle. The bands played on but the support was thinnest hear… probably because 20,000 runners had already finished and their supporters had gone home! 17K… 18K… my legs really hurt now but I was concerned that if I stopped for a short walk they might not start again. I missed the 19K sign totally and was mightily relieved to see 20K roll around. My breathing was fine still – very very easy – and in fact despite the discomfort my actual

pace was not in any way significantly slower than in the first 10K… at least i figured my preperation HAD got this correct … the race plan was working. We’;d come through banks of photographers between Km 17 and (I guess) 19, and just before the finish line the final bank was passed. The crowds had returned now and was more vocal… lots of encouragement as we trundlers forged on unabated. I’s gotten my geograpjy of Paris (not at all good to start with) totally wrong and we came in on a totally different direction than I had in my head before the race, but did that finish line ever look so wonderful? Again, breathing was still easy… the HR was around 10% higher than in training and I never at any time felt as if I didn;t have the energy to run… it was just so bloody painful to do so! Gratefully I crossed the line and pressed the button on my watch… 2:35 and change. I’d done it… non stop, first Half (all bar a pee at 4.5Km or so). But rather tired nonetheless…

Post race – phoned my wife, phoned Nick. walked the 1 K to baggage, locked myself in a loo and got changed. Texts from friends back in the UK started to pour in. My legs barely worked – I’d grabbed bananas, apples, water and an energy drink at the finish… along with the medal Slowly I began to return to Sharon’s… 1K back to the race finish where they had already all but packed up. I grabbed a merguez and kebab for sustenance and walked the mile or so back to the RER station. Back at Sharon’s I got a big hug, a beer… and I could finally stop my legs from having to move…. Sharon produced a bottle of champagne bless her and she and her man, Jose, toasted my first Half… it tasted wonderful!

Monday : RER to Gare du Nord, Eurostar to London, tube to Paddington, train to Chippenham, bus to Rowde/Devizes… and home. To an empty house but soon after I was able to open the door to meet my family… and of course wearing the tee-shirt, the medal… and a big big grin

Things I learned :

* carting 100+ kilos around 21Km is hard. No wonder I saw very very very few people larger than me.

* training on trail runs just doesn’t prepare you for running on streets (given I’d run 2hrs the previous week with no problems at all, similar nutrition and hydration build up etc.)

* my energy and hydration regime was spot on

* HR apparently isn’t always everything… the HR stats are VERY high… but at no time did I feel out of breath or lacking energy. the ache in my legs wasn’t muscular endurance type pain (ie when you sprint) … it wasn’t burn… it just hurt, from my toes to my hips. Alternatively a HR of 187 bpm IS zone 2… but that would give me a max HR (aged 46) of around 225. I don’t buy that!

* my race plan was spot on.

It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known. [1]

Didds

[1] Bet Charles Dickens never ran a half marathon though

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