Monday 19 March 2012

And the winner is…………… A Black Guy.


Thank god. It’s over. Three hours and seventeen minutes. Not of pain- that’d be lying. The last thirty minutes was very painful. The rest I found surprisingly enjoyable. It was probably just the dehydration making me delusional. However, despite the positive outlook, you can rest assured that I’ll be running no more than 10km for the rest of my time in Korea.

The following bullet points are an outlook on the marathon experience:

  • The worst part of the marathon, believe me, is the first half an hour after you finish. I was a maze of confusion and my legs were thoroughly confused as to what the hell had just happened. I tried to stretch, but could feel nothing. I wanted to collapse on the floor, but couldn’t bend my legs for fear of cramp. Add to that the fact that I felt like I needed to throw up, at a time when taking on as much food as possible was vital. Paradise.
  •  The race is surprisingly easier than the training. With tens of thousands of people around you and the race-day adrenaline, it’s much easier to keep going than training solo in the snow at -17 degrees Celsius. Though, I did miss the rabid dogs and suited up businessmen chasing me.
  • I used more Vaseline in the race preparation than I ever did in my bedroom as a teenager. I owe a lot to its lubricating qualities that my thighs are not currently the colour of Heinz Cream of Tomato Soup right now.
  • People will pay to see you suffer. I’ve raised £767.90 so far, with more to come (apparently). The donators have been from various continents, and have been fantastic support. When family and friends have poured their hard earned cash into your cause, then you can’t help but feel duty bound to repay them with a top performance on the day. And some of you weren’t half generous! Also, that Tom O’Rourke chap who donated £150- what an outstanding Samaritan he is…
  • In anticipation of the big day, I invested an entire morning last week to create the perfect ‘Marathon Playlist’ for the race. It was truly awesome- just a load of angry metal and rap. Loud and offensive stuff. Designed to piss me off. Race day arrives. Forgot to sync it to my iPod.
  • My race day preparation consisted of listening to Ricky Gervais Podcasts and ingesting a large proportion of fifteen quid’s worth of goodies I’d purchased from a “Paris Croissant” bakery the night before. So, amongst all of the ultra-serious Koreans who were stretching and whatnot, there was a white man guffawing while eating bread. The Kenyan guy who won it did exactly the same thing- trust me.
  • There were more laughs to follow- early on in the race, several Koreans had obviously prepared better than me and were skipping off into one particular side alley to relieve their little Generals of duty. This alley happened to be slightly uphill. The result was a river of piss.
  • I nearly missed the transit van to put all my spare clothes in due to a half an hour wait for a pre-run dump. It was a risk I had to take- I don’t think Koreans would have been as accommodating to a river of chocolate brownies.
  • I’m too fast to capture on camera. I had my photographer friends there, ready to capture the big moment as I entered Jamsil Olympic Stadium for my big finish. What I have instead is a photo of me from behind with a cartoon elephant on my back.
  • The winners, unsurprisingly, were of African origin. It got me thinking… Paula Radcliffe is a medical marvel. Apart from her, can you think of another white person who’s won a marathon?!?
  • Somehow, I have acquired pain on the top of my feet. Sports-scientists amongst you- discuss…
  • What did I do after the marathon? I hopped on the subway to go find a public bath house so I could chill out with naked Korean men for the afternoon. This was coupled with a sports massage that involved the guy standing on my hamstrings. Bliss.
  • Korean people are very considerate when you’re clearly in a lot of pain. When I hopped on the subway post-race, I had high hopes for a seat. But no, the ajumas (married Korean women) clearly deserved the seats as they’re not the young whippersnappers us marathon types are.
  • This sentiment extended to the bus ride. The bus was so cramped that I had to stand next to the entrance door the whole way. When the driver stopped at the subsequent bus stops he would gesture frantically for me to get out of the way and utter some nonsense in tongues at me. I responded ever so politely with “Well, where the f**k am I supposed to go?” He would eventually give up and just open the doors anyway, squishing me against the windscreen. I heart Korea.
  • Ten weeks of training- that’s all I needed. Well, eight actually. I spent one week side-lined by a cold of man-sized proportions. Another week was spent unable to walk due to severely bruised big toes, which caused my big right toenail to fall off. The left one looks likely to follow suit…
  •  “The wall” is not nearly half as bad as people make out. Sure, I was running on empty for the last 7km, but your body is far tougher than your brain gives it credit for. Despite my hamstrings’ best efforts to halt me by way of cramping, I smashed through the exhaustion with a combination of angry metal, testicular determination and tiger blood.
  • Would I prepare better next time? Actually give myself the recommended twenty-five weeks of training? Probably… not. I loathed all ten weeks of the training. Why would I want to put myself through an extra fifteen weeks of it?!? I’m happy to rely on mental grit, pure willpower and Charlie Sheen. Training is for Kenyans…