Sunday 19 February - Maratón de Sevilla

Where's Bertie? He remains unmoved in the Aire in Seville.
Weather: Mainly overcast, with just a bit of sunshine in the middle of the day. 14 to 24 degrees.

I've long felt that I ought to run a marathon at least once in my life. Indeed, I selected one in 2019 and duly trained for it. It was due to take place in April 2020 when, of course, nothing took place.

Seville Marathon is rather a contrast to the one I originally intended to do (12000 runners vs 400; flat tarmac vs not flat trail), but after Mick ran here last year I could see its benefits. In particular, the logistics are really easy, in that the Aire is within easy walking (and even easier cycling) distance of the start/finish.

Thus, at 0730 this morning, an hour before the start, I was still sitting around in my pyjamas. I left Bertie at 0800 and, in hindsight, I could have waited another ten minutes as it only took me about 5 minutes to get to the start (Mick had set out earlier, as he was on foot at that point, whilst I took the bike).

Fourteen degrees said the two thermometers at the start. With a bit of a breeze, it felt like a good temperature for a run.

The crush to get through the gates into the starting pens had me fearing for my life, but once through there was plenty of space. Curiously, even though I'd been able to hear the tannoy announcements from Bertie before I set out, once in the starting pens I heard nothing. Thus, the first indication that the race had started was when those in front of me shuffled forward. It took just under 5 minutes to get across the start line.

Mick cheered me on, handed me gels, and filled up my water bottle (handy to have a small bottle, even though drinks stations were frequent) at 12km, 22km, 27km and 36km.

He also snapped a photo of me at 12km as the route crossed a bridge, back to the E side of the river.

By 36km I was ready to be done and moaned that running 42.2km on flat roads is harder than covering 130km on technical trails in 24hrs.

I'd set out with two targets:
1) to enjoy myself;
2) if compatible with (1), to run under 4hr30.

I failed on both - but only marginally. On the plus side, I didn't hate the experience (unlike the Tissington Half, of which I hated just about every step), but nor did I enjoy it (as I did Thunder Run 24hr last year). My finish time was a bit annoying, in that I was still on target at 39km, when I started getting cramp in my calfs. I was moving fine between bouts of cramp, but then would have to stop, stretch and carry on. I would have had some salt tablets with me, if I could have located in what safe spot I'd stored them for the trip (probably along with the missing foot cream).

So, maybe if I'd had the salt tabs, the last 3km would have gone better. Maybe if I hadn't had shingles (followed by a thigh strain, no doubt due to all the time spent sitting around with shingles) and lost some training, the last few km would have gone better. I'll never know, but certainly if I'd been more diligent with my strength work I'd have been in a better place.

I crossed the finish line in 4hr32, so not far off target (2). Close enough, I think, to not feel that a rematch is essential.

Having crossed the finish line, I promptly lost the ability to breathe. It's been so long since that last happened (2019) that it hadn't occurred to me that it may return to plague me (in the absence of having a card in my pocket telling anyone concerned that I wasn't having an asthma attack, and the worst that would happen is that I might faint (at which point my pharynx would unspasm, or so a doctor once reassured me), it's a shame I didn't have Mick to hand).

A minute or so later, I was fine again. A medal was put around my neck, then I found the goody-bag giver-outerer (mainly drinks, including a beer, plus the obligatory orange, because we are in Spain), and a couple of hundred metres later I was out of the finish area where Mick was located exactly where he was supposed to be.

Reunited with Mick, medal around my neck, clutching a banana.

Same snap but facing the other way, with the thermometer behind me reading 25 degrees. Most others I'd seen on my way to the finish said 24 degrees. 

It seems that I'm far from the only runner staying at the Aire. I was fourth lycra-clad woman in the queue for the shower when I wandered over there a while later. The water wasn't even pretending to be tepid today.

Verdict: I'm happy to have 'run a marathon' ticked off the to-do list, and Seville's course has great merit, taking in many of the best sights of the city, although I can think of better ways to sightsee!

I'm also now pretty convinced, as many have reported before me, that off-road ultra distance events are easier than road marathons. Aside from the variation in foot fall in the former, the longer off-road distances tend to involve plenty of walking in amongst the running.

Alas, I'm now in limbo, as the 24-hour event that was next on my agenda has just been cancelled, and I've not decided on what I'm going to do next instead.

These chaps were done and on their way for a roast dinner by the time I crossed the halfway mark!