So, it is done. All the training and effort is firmly in the past and the race is over. The race is over and i am left with a vague sense of anti-climax, a degree of disappointment but also a strong sense of satisfaction. A difficult thing has been done, not done as well as i would have liked perhaps but still done and that is something i am proud of.
While the race itself is something that takes some effort to come to terms with, the trip overall was unequivocally excellent. Florence is a marvellous city and a joy to be in whatever the circumstances. Add in the hoopla of a city marathon and it is a potent mix for a chap like me. This puts my previous marathon experience into some sort of context. The Edinburgh marathon is a rather staid and low key affair when compared to the passionate way that Florence seemed to embrace its race. The crowds lining the streets of the centro storico created a real sense of occassion that added to the already heady feeling of running round the Dumo or across the Ponte Vecchio. Of course this only partly mitigated my suffering but more of that later...
The weekend started with something of a failure as our itended Segway tour of the city was cancelled. The replacement food tour was possibly even better but it cant have been the ideal nutritional preparation for a distance race. It also meant we were later in getting to the Expo than intended. This was where i first got a sense of the excititment building towards race start. There were large crowds in and around the Expo hall picking up numbers and milling around to get T-shirts and goody bags. These had to be picked up form a different desk to the numbers obliging runners to run the full gauntlet of stalls, leafleters and hawkers in the exhibition hall. In the final calculation all of this combined with the walk to and from our appartment probably meant i was on my feet for longer than i ought to have been. How significant that was i cant say but this is the downside of an 'away' marathon- you really cant look after yourself to quite the same extent as you can at home.
This also applies to sleep. On our first night i failed to work out the significance of the ear plugs that were thoughtfully supplied in our apartment. A full night of listening to the sounds of what felt like the Italian equivalent of Sauchiehall Street on a saturday night meant that sleep was at a premium. Saturday night involved using those ear plugs. Fortunately they proved effective and i was up bright, early and reasonably rested to watch the final race preparations from our balcony (this involved an intriguing man vs bollard battle which must rank alongside the rumble in the jungle for its gladitorial qualities).
Being so close to both finish and start meant we could be down in the start area with plenty of time to spare. As the pens began to fill up it struck me that recreational running seems like a more serious business in Italy than in the UK. There were almost no charity vests, almost nobody in fancy dress and the vast majority either representing clubs or displaying their previous marathon conquests. Strikingly the mix was also overwhelmingly male with less than a quarter of participants women.
Despite fairly limited space the start area seemed well organised and marshalled. High fences controlled access to the start pens with access only permitted by displaying your race number. The pens quickly became quite congested however and as the crowds started to move off, discarding bin bags and painters overalls to the side, it was obvious that the start was going to be slow.
And so it was. We were off, but off at no more than a jog and very soon we were stopped again and after the first kilometre i was probably 30 seconds outside my target pace. No panic yet, lots of time to make that up but as the crowd began to thin slightly i started to pick up the pace to recover that lost time with the intention that i would do so slowly. Of course there is slowly and there is slowly. Ultimately i failed to recover the time slowly enough and i paid for that later. Miles two and three were 10 seconds or more inside target pace. I dropped the pace slightly after that but was still averaging 8:04, 7 seconds faster than i ought to have been.
By the 10k mark i had made up the time i lost and was starting to bank time relative to target. It wasnt long before i was 30 seconds to the good and realising that i wasnt running quite as easily as i should have been. Some of the running around 10-15k was fairly monotonous through a large park to the west of the city. This was enlivened somewhat by a band on top of an open-top bus doing a cheesy Euro version of Sweet Home Alabama, The early stages were also notable for the course dipping into a couple of road tunnels accompanied by echoing chants of the field as it passed through.
Just before halfway was perhaps the high point for me. I was still feeling fairly comfortable and the route returned to the city and made its way through Oltrarno to the Porta Romana. The narrow streets here were thick with supporters and when the route opened out to the Pitti Palace they were added to by a couple of school orchestras playing away gamely in little gazebos. The route then dipped past the end of the Ponte Vecchio in a corner that was thrillingly crowded and massively noisy. My own particular support team were at the side of the road just after this and i was feeling quite emotional and buoyed by the support as i approached the 13.1 mile point.
I still couldnt quite silence the little voice telling me i was going too quickly. I was feeling ok but i couldnt ignore the fact that i wasnt feeling quite ok enough. My heart rate was starting to creep up and as the route again made its way through a quite monotonous section it became harder and harder to hold my pace. By mile 17 i had slipped back to just outside my original target pace finally. Unfortunately it wasnt proving to be easy to hold that pace either and by mile 20 i had slipped to 8:30 miles. I was in no position to arrest this slide any longer and things just got worse as the race progressed.
Over the last few miles i had found it harder and harder to take on board any nutrition or fluids and i suspect this helped to contribute to my massive slump. Yes, i bonked big style.
With about 5k to go time and distances started to play tricks. Kilometres felt like miles, minutes like hours. My stomach rebelled and i introduced the Italain public to the joys of a guid Scottish dry boak. It was all i could do to keep moving at this stage and shamefully i had to stop and walk on a couple of occassions. There was no way that i wasnt going to finish, but it felt very much like my race had gone by now. The temperature had risen, the road surfaces had become more uneven and i could feel my form going to pot as i struggled to maintain any semblence of momentum. Finally though i came past the start line and round the corner towards Piazza Santa Croce and the finish. I just about managed to summon up a sprint finish. Of course in reality that sprint was no faster than my original target pace but that isnt how it felt at the time. Almost literally slumping across the line i finished in 3:41:10 feeling frustrated at how had allowed my pacing to get out of hand. Before i had made it out of the finishers funnel though it had struck me that rather than a failure, this was a personal best and a pretty massive one at that. 8 minutes off my previous time is nothing to be sneezed at even if it was some 6 minutes outside my target and the subject of a massive negative split.
So what to be learned? Well, i think ultimately my training over the course of the year proved to be too inconsistent. Injury caused things to be quite stop start and even in the lead up to the race a couple of significant long runs went astray. That had to impact on my ability to hold target pace. I still think i need to do better with nutrition and my preparation could have been better in the lead up to the race but rally, pacing is the big thing i need to get better at.
All that being said, it was a thrilling thing to do. The sections through the centre, past the Dumo and the main shopping streets were amazing. The crowds were 3 or 4 deep in areas and gratifyingly noisy. While i would like to have been in a better place physically and mentally to enjoy this more it was still an experience which the Edinburgh marathon just doesnt match.
So overall, a curate's egg. Not quite what i expected but i am not discouraged. Next stop Lochaber in April!
