Faster

Race Report: Berlin Marathon 2016

Background
I entered the lottery for the Berlin marathon last October, days after running my first half marathon. I wasn't really expecting to get in, and pretty much forgot about it for a couple of months. After a decent first year of running, my motivation was beginning to drop off coming into winter. It was only in December when I got the confirmation email that I was in for Berlin that I got back to any real consistency. Sure, I had months and months to prepare, but knowing that 2016's main target race was now set in stone gave me the kick-start I needed.

Everyone says you shouldn't set a time goal for your first marathon, that it's more important to enjoy it. This is excellent advice, but being a greedy bastard, I wanted to have my cake and eat it. Otherwise, what is the point of having the cake at all? So the plan was to spend 2016 getting myself into shape to run sub-4.

I spent the first few months of the year working towards the Reading half marathon in April. Training went well; I ran a 10k in 48:20 in the build-up, and got in some decent mileage. I made a balls of the half itself – went out too fast, and suffered badly over the latter stages – but still managed to finish in 1:49:36. I ran a big 5k PB a few weeks later (22:25) so I knew I was in good shape coming into marathon training.

Training
I jumped in at week 4 of the BAA Level 2 plan, leaving me with 19 weeks of training. The plan had a nice mix of sessions, and it was structured in such a way that I was always running on tired legs – this really stood to me I think. I'm lucky in that I don't seem to be prone to injury, so I was able to bank a lot of consistent mileage over the summer. I did back off when I felt the odd niggle, and juggled some runs around to suit other commitments (i.e. the pub), but I got into a good routine of training fairly early on, and rarely missed a run.

It was tough going though. The MP sessions were murder, and I struggled with the long runs more than I would have liked. Still, I got through them every week, and felt very strong coming into the taper…

… which was bizarre. The first week passed without incident, a minor calf niggle led to an existential crisis during the second week, but I found myself almost eerily calm and collected during the final week. This lasted right up to the day itself, and I didn't experience the slightest jitter of pre-race nerves. This is very unlike me.

Berlin
My girlfriend and I flew into Berlin early on Friday morning, and had a very relaxing weekend. I even had a couple of beers on the Friday afternoon after the expo. Ate rings around myself all weekend, and drank loads of the horrible homemade sports drink I made up with some electrolyte tablets.

Woke up early on Sunday, had a quick breakfast of instant porridge (eaten in the bathroom with two coffee stirrers that I fashioned into chopsticks…), instant coffee, and a bottle of Powerade. Chilled out for another half an hour, then had a shower, got dressed, and took the U-Bahn to Potsdamer Platz, which is about a 10 minute walk from the start area.

I was about to hop into my starting corral, when someone tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was from Boards. Briefly confused, I was about to respond that I was actually from Cork, when she introduced herself as Bluesquare. What were the chances?! We had a quick chat, and went our separate ways.

The start time for the marathon was 9:15am, but I hadn't realised that those of us in the third wave wouldn't be setting off till 9:45am. This was worrying, as the temperature was forecast to be in the low 20s after midday, and I'd be running until at least 1:45pm. Anyway, there was nothing I could do about it now, and I reminded myself that I had run loads of MP sessions and long runs at far higher temperatures during the summer. Now was the time to cash in.

The plan was very simple: run as many 9 minute miles as I could in the right direction.

Okay, maybe not that simple. Not having had a warm-up, I wanted to take the first mile fairly handy, and hoped I could make up whatever time I lost over the next few hours. I wanted the sub-4 very badly, but it was going to be a warm day, and I knew I wouldn't be able to run much faster. My pace band had 5km splits of 28:20 for a 3:59:30 finish. There was no margin for error.

Inauspicious Beginnings - Km 1-5
My memory of the early stages is a little hazy. The congestion was crazy, so the first few miles were mainly about not getting tripped. I made a half-hearted effort to stick to the racing line over the first mile, but after losing my only spare gel when someone brushed past, I gave up in the end. It was just too dangerous.

With all the unavoidable ducking and weaving, the first mile came in at 9:48. I had planned on easing myself into things for the first mile, but that was a long way off target pace. Not good.
The next couple of miles were on pace, and felt easy, so I held out some hope that the first one had been a GPS anomaly. But when I passed the first 5km clock and saw 29:01 on the watch – over 40 seconds late – I knew I had a lot of work to do.

Don't Panic - Km 6-10
I wasn't panicking just yet, there was still a long way to go. I was moving well, feeling great, and for the time being, the running conditions were excellent. The congestion had eased a little, and I was generally able to find little gaps and run my own race. I took my first gel very early on – the plan being to take one every 40 minutes or so, for as long as I could stomach them – and it went down well.

The water stations were on both sides of the road (for now!), but even then, it was absolute carnage. The stations were crammed with people, and the road was slick with water. I lost 5-10 seconds at every single station throughout the race, and more if I tried to grab a drink. The next 5km split was 28:28. This was much closer to target pace, but I had still lost another few seconds. My 30 second buffer was beginning to look very flimsy indeed.

The Bright Side of Life - Km 11-15
Getting the first 10k out of the way gave me a bit of a boost. There were 20 miles to go, but this was a distance I had covered before. I was still feeling really good, and had pretty much glued myself to 9 minute mile pace. I could sense when I dropped a couple of seconds off the pace, and when I pushed on, and my occasional glances at the watch were only for confirmation. It was a great feeling.

Took my second gel shortly before the 15km mark. The split was 28:21 – pretty much bang on. At this point, even though I hadn't made up any lost time, I was starting to feel optimistic. I certainly wasn't expecting to cruise all the way to the finish feeling this good, but I figured that the longer this good spell lasted, the better my chances of a strong finish.

Chipping Away - Km 16-20
Even though nothing had changed in terms of the time I still needed to make up, I felt like my fortunes were improving. I was nearly halfway, feeling good, and absolutely loving the running. I happened to glance at my watch as it ticked onto 1:58:45, which was my finishing time in my first half marathon last October. I was absolutely leathered after that, and here I was, moving at the same pace and feeling like I could keep going all day.

It was this section more than anything else that made me feel like the training was all worth it. All those long slogs on a Saturday morning, those MP sessions in the blazing heat after work on a Thursday – it all suddenly seemed like a pittance for the rewards I was reaping now. I hit 20km with a 28:08 split. I was finally starting to claw back some of the time deficit.

Keeping it Together - Km 21-25
I hit the halfway point at 2:00:02, and experienced the sobering realisation that I was going to have to run a negative split. I took my third gel – they were still going down nice and easy – and did a quick systems check. My legs were feeling tired now, but all good other than that, and I didn't feel like I was working too hard yet. I knew I had put down a solid foundation over the first 13 miles, but there was still a long way to go, and I knew the next few miles would be crucial.

It was getting noticeably warmer now. Not enough to affect things too much yet, but I was definitely aware of it. The water stations were becoming even more chaotic now, and I was stopping at the majority of them. There was no way of grabbing a cup and running on – it was just too congested. If I wanted a drink, I had to stop dead for a few seconds. There was no other choice.

I knew I needed to keep taking on fluids, but being paranoid about overhydrating, I generally tried to alternate between water and the sports drink on offer, taking a couple of sips of each, and throwing the former over my head. I was also doing my best to make sure I ran through the various water hoses that were starting to appear. I was far from overheating at this stage, but I figured prevention was probably the best approach. Passed the 25km mark with a 28:22 split.

No Man's Land - Km 26-30
This is where things started to get tough. After nearly 16 miles of running, my legs were feeling it – mainly my hips. With these signs of physical discomfort came the first mental dip. There were no particularly negative thoughts – it was just a general concern about the rising heat, and whether I'd be able to keep the pace going.

This section was all about just getting to the next kilometre marker. I was sick of them being stuck in the 20s, and was getting pretty desperate to get into the 30s. The pace must have increased a little here, and when the beautiful 30km mark finally appeared, the 5km split was 28:12. For the first time in the race, I was finally on for sub-4.

There Will be Blood - Km 31-35
The effort was feeling hard now, but I had emerged victorious from the mental slump, knowing that there was little more than 10km to go. I took my final gel at 32km knowing that there would be a water station in a few hundred metres. It appeared eventually, looking like a scene from The Walking Dead, full of zombies who had just ran 20 miles at MP. That it was on a very narrow street only added to the chaos.

I stopped at the first table, grabbed a cup, and moved off to the other side of the street beside a grass verge. Took a couple of sips and started running again. I was about to throw the rest over me, when suddenly a woman in front of me came to an abrupt stop. I twisted to avoid her, but it was too late. I clipped her foot, stumbled, tripped on the kerb and then I was flying.
I'm a human. I can't fly. So inevitably, there was a bang and a grunt – the former being the sound of my face slapping the ground, and the latter being the accompanying noise of pain.

Before I had really registered what had happened, I was up again. The woman I had tripped over was traumatised, but I assured her I was fine and pelted off down the street. I glanced down after a minute and saw that the plastic water cup was stuck to my race number. There was an interesting cocktail of mud and blood on my thigh, and I could feel more dirt stuck to my face. Annoyingly, I was in need of a water station again. But this time I needed a bit of a wash more than anything else.

This incident actually turned out to be a good distraction, and the 35km marker appeared much earlier than I was expecting, with a 28:10 split. Something was wrong with my left foot though – my toes were throbbing badly since the fall, and getting worse.

Steadying the Ship - Km 36-40
My girlfriend was due to be somewhere around the 36km, so I'd had a "just get to 36" mantra in my head for a good while now. Sure enough, she shouted my name just after then kilometre marker – I said a quick hello, told her about the hopper I had taken, and carried on. This was a lovely boost.

I pushed on, switching to an exciting new "just get to 40" mantra. I was suffering now. It was so warm, and it seemed to be taking longer and longer to get to the next kilometre marker. My legs were sore – quads, calves and hamstrings – and my toes were in a bad way. Each step sent a sting of pain through my foot.

But even through the hurt, I kept thinking "well, at least it's not as bad as the Reading half". With that, it slowly dawned on me that I was actually going to finish, and if I could keep things together for another few miles, I'd have the sub-4.

The effort to maintain the same pace was increasing now. Any lapse in concentration meant that the pace slipped, and I had to keep throwing in little surges to catch up. Eventually I reached 40km with a 28:13 split.

Monumental - Km 41-42.2
The last bit is a blur. There was noise – so much noise – and a palpable sense of something incredible lurking just around the corner. I turned onto Unter den Linden, looked up ahead, and audibly gasped. The Brandenburg Gate was glinting in the sunlight. I'd seen it before, but nothing could have prepared me for how wonderful it looked that morning.

I felt like I was floating towards it. I couldn't even see the other runners around me, or the spectators lining both sides of the street. I was a moth to that big, beautiful flame.

Then I was under it, and out the other side. The finish line was ahead, and if anything, seemed to be hurtling towards me. I crashed over it in 3:58:49 and slowed to a walk. I can't even remember how I felt physically, but I was an emotional wreck. I didn't cry (that came later!) but I was totally overcome with it all.

The Aftermath
I staggered around the finishing area in a daze. I have fragmented memories of eating a delicious apple, drinking some disgusting tea that I thought was going to be alcohol-free beer, sitting down near a tree when I finally had my hands on said beer, and taking 10 or 15 minutes to get back up again because my hamstring kept cramping up.

I couldn't find the other Boardsies unfortunately, and my hotel bed was calling to me. Had a good long soak in the bath first, then a bit of a lie down. Had a lovely dinner with my girlfriend later in the evening, and the first guilt-free beer (with alcohol) in ages. I was on an absolute high all evening, and have been for days since.

I'm still sort of processing the whole thing, so don't really have much in the way of post-race analysis. Maybe I'll have more to add in a few days or weeks. One thing I am sure about though, is that I fell in love with the marathon last Sunday, and I'll be racing the distance for a long, long time to come.