A Marathon in Byzantium

Waiting to board the buses to the start line. 

Before last Sunday, my previous experience with the word 'marathon' usually centered around watching multiple episodes of highly addictive TV series, like a good season of 24, to take advantage of a rainy/snowy day, or even just because I had nothing to do. It's definitely a word that gets thrown around casually in conversation, usually to indicate something that is stretched out over a long period of time, and often too long. Well, on the 11th I learned what the real thing is like, and I found out it is a lot more painful and longer than I could have ever realized, despite spending the past 3 months training for it. Murphy's Law was in full effect.

Naturally the night before the race I couldn't sleep much, but I sort of anticipated that so it didn't throw me off or stress me out when I woke up at 5:45 that morning. I had everything fairly planned out. For breakfast I ate my usual muesli (from Macedonia in a small bag) and yogurt, managed to get the hotel bring up coffee to the room, and ate a banana all about 2 1/2 hours before the race was scheduled to start. Everything was according to the routine I had established before my long Sunday training runs in Macedonia. So far so good. Faron (another volunteer from Macedonia, braver man than I to be racing since he had his training schedule completely wrecked by a medical trip to DC for 6 weeks) and I left the hotel around 7 to the bus collection point in the center of the Sultanahmet area and we waited for about 20 minutes before we were off to the starting area on the Asian side of Istanbul, just across the Bosphorus Bridge. We arrived roughly around 8am, with another hour to go before race time. Witnessing the long lines at the port-a-potties, we maneuvered over there around 8:15 to wait, and no joking it took 35 minutes to finally get to the front of the line. Afterwards, we scrambled to make our way into the massive throng of runners (8,500+), and with about 5 minutes to spare, we were ready to go. After a countdown the clock started at 9am, and I clicked on my Ipod to start the 'Long Run Mix'.

While those initial few minutes of the race were certainly scenic as we literally ran from Asia to Europe across the Bosphorus Bridge, I felt like I was in a video game, weaving in between slower runners as I made my way further to the front. I knew my clock didn't actually start until my chip reached the start line, but nonetheless I felt rushed because I wanted to settled into my goal pace as quickly as possible. Unfortunately that was my first mistake: I didn't relax and I was running much faster than I needed to just so I could clear away from the crowd. As we crossed the bridge we reached a stretch with a steep decline, so much so that I took these long, almost comically ridiculous strides. Eventually we settled into a flat terrain and it was only then I felt like I could run normally and try to find my marathon pace. I thought I found that (I didn't) and stuck close to group of runners who seemed to be holding a similar pace. Near the old city, the route headed north and eventually the 15km group split off from the marathoners, and that was around the time where I realized I wasn't feeling so strong. I wasn't panicking, but nothing was coming easy, and my muscles were feeling tight as we rounded the bend near Ayup (not before I saw the Kenyans heading back the other way, dang they're fast). By 20km I was still at or under my marathon pace, but I was a little worried about whether my body was going to hold up for another 22km.

At around this point, we reached the toughest stretch of the race- a long, straight out-and-back course along 'Kennedy Street' that offered a nice view of the water but mainly just pain, pain, and more pain. I spent the initial end of this stretch waiting to see the Kenyans coming back the other way so I knew the turnaround point was somewhere like 40-45min ahead. I waited a long time. By 25km I knew that I would not achieve my goal time for the race, and instead I just wanted to finish the thing with some dignity. My pace started to drop considerably by kilometer 28, maybe before, and by the 30th kilometer my entire body was falling apart. My left side abdomen felt like needles were digging into me, my quads and hamstrings seemed to have 100lb weights attached to them, and finally, both my calves were a moment away from seizing up completely if I didn't do anything. So I had to stop. And then I walked, discovering how completely spent my body already was after 30km. I hoped a few minutes of walking would help, and then I could just finish out the remaining 12km at a slower pace. But my body wasn't having any of it. Within a minute of resuming running, both my calves seized up and I had to stop or they would have cramped up completely, effectively ending my race right there. So I stopped and walked again. And then tried to run again. I tried everything I could, including almost 'shuffling' along the pavement so I was going faster than a walking pace but reduced the pressure on my calves. Didn't work. But I kept doing it, eventually reaching refreshment stations and consuming Powerade and sugar cubes in the futile hope that they would let me get past this awful pain so I could run again and finish strong. No luck. It was trench-warfare running, every small gain I made required an incredible amount of effort. People constantly passed me, many of whom I had passed a long while back, yet I found myself now just fighting to move forward horizontally. It was a painful, humbling, and agonizing experience, and one I'll never forget. I've had my physical meltdowns in the past, particularly back in my rowing days when I went out too hard on a 2000m erg test and the lactic acid build-up shut me down hard. But this was different, because it was literally seven miles of fighting my own body well beyond the point it was willing to accept. Nevertheless, I continued with my walk-shuffle run-walk-zombie run (it kinda felt like that)-routine, and by the 40km mark I was within striking distance of the finish line. I had a very brief 'second wind' around that point, where I ran uninterrupted for about 5-7 minutes, no calf-seizing, until we reached the Gulhane Park and from there it was about 1.5 km to go. And there was no way in hell I was going to cross that finish line walking. By the time I did cross the line, I was in a daze-like state, not sure whether to cry, collapse to the ground, or just enjoy some time where I didn't have to move at all. I was definitely glad to be done.

Looking back on it and seeing the results (and split times every 5km), there were several things that I could have controlled and done better, and several that were totally out of my control. My first 10-15km of the race was far too fast- I was running at least 15 seconds per mile faster than my target pace, and I never trained that way. I also learned that I didn't train enough at my marathon pace in the 3 months leading up to the race. It was only the last few weeks that I did that, and never at the 20-25 mile range that would have been most beneficial. My body wasn't prepared for that degree of abuse, and it reacted quite negatively. Since it was my first ever marathon, I should have raced more conservatively because I really had no idea how it was going to turn out. The biggest uncontrollable factor was that it just wasn't my day. Despite the tapering and resting leading up, I didn't feel the level of energy I've felt on some of my best training runs. Fortunately I'm already motivated for marathon #2 sometime next Spring, so I'll have a chance to work on these things :)

After the marathon, I also happened to realize I was in Istanbul and it's a pretty cool city with a lot to do. While both Faron and I were totally spent that Sunday, we worked up the energy to go explore some on Monday and Tuesday, visiting some of the bazaars, mosques, and taking in some outstanding views of the Bosphorus from the top of the Galata Tower.

Walking around near the Spice Bazaar.

Spice Bazaar. Big tourist trap, was not super impressed but #44 had some great dried fruit selection. 

Galata Tower

Bosphorus Bridge (where we started the race) in the distance.

Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque from Galata Tower.

Somehow we managed to visit a Starbucks every single day while we were in town as well. To my (very small) credit, I had a different drink every day, and we never went to the same one. Yeah, Istanbul has a lot of Starbucks cafes. Anyway, besides the sight-seeing and coffee drinking, we sampled plenty of the local Efes beer, which I think is somehow mandated because I saw very little imported beer at the pubs we tried out. We did find a really cool area in Beyoglu, around the pedestrian street Istiklal Caddesi, where there was a dense clustering of outdoor pubs and bars, and most importantly, fairly cheap beer. It was a great place for people-watching and seemed to have far more locals hanging out than the touristy Sultanahmet area.

Istiklal Caddesi

View from the bar.

On my last day I visited the Archaeological Museum of Istanbul in the Topkapi Palace complex, and it was definitely a highlight. It was one of the few museums where 4500-year-old tablets and other artifacts felt accessible, without dense glass boxes around them. There was a special section for sarcophagi, and several of them were extremely elaborate and well-preserved. I'd be shocked if there were many other places in the world where you could find such impressive artifacts.

Archaeological Museum

The Alexander Sarcophagus. Incredibly well-preserved and stunning work. 

After the museum, I wandered over the the New Mosque, managed to get a cheap pide (delicious flat bread sort of a combo between pizza and pastrmajlija), and caught my shuttle to the airport. It was a short but very memorable trip to Istanbul. If I had more energy after the marathon I probably would have seen more and ventured out further, but there's always next time! Or maybe I'll explore other parts of Turkey...

The New Mosque

New Mosque again