The Istanbul marathon kicked the month off with aplomb. Sadly Sarah and Ali both dropped out so this was going to be a solo effort. The Turkish people don't speak much English, and I don’t speak much Turkish, so the cultural immersion was real. I picked out a random hotel a few hours before booking the flight (after Covid test) which was on the outskirts of the city. Work was hectic so I didn’t actually get to look around till the day of the big event.
Early morning, not much sleep, I set out to find a bus. Cops look me dead in the eye and have no clue what I am on about. Taxi to a tram stop it is. Fellow runners are gathered. Onto the tram, then onto a bus (finally) which takes us across from Europe side to Asia side over the Vosporos bridge. The atmosphere is edgy at the start, the temperature brisk. Old hands venture off to warm up, the rest of huddle to nibble on bananas & coffee. Copycat stretches look like they might help. Loud noises - the hype man on the microphone. A chaotic stasis of long toilet queues, bag drops, journalists, costumes. Nervous anticipation floods the air. Go!
Within a few miles slow miles of the start a pro sprints past me, odd. Police motorbike sirens pulsate through the crowd and runners disperse to the side to clear the way for more speedy pros to dash through the melee. They didn’t line us up to begin with according to finishing times! May have been wise. An older man about double my age zooms past me. What! My ego immediately flares up. I speed up from 8 minute per mile to 7 minute miles and throw the whole marathon plan out the window. Ha - Idiot. I survive till the 15km mark, wondering all the while which elixir of life this elderly phenom has been gorging. So out of shape. Slowly it dawns on me that he is doing the whole marathon, and stopping here. No wonder! Drat, I'm all over the place mentally. Emotionally its a minefield - we all know whats coming. Mordor.
A third of the way through we go past my hotel. The Kenyan runners who will win it are blasting the other way past me. By halfway [21km, mile 13] i’m toast. Everything hurts. Brain is saying stop but heart has been here before and knows that stopping will just elongate the agony unbearably. Ego flares up too thinking of every single time someone will ask “what time did you get?” Settle in champ. Stitch in the abdomen isn't too bad, cramp in the foot and calf is sore though, neck and arms feel weird tingly and dear god the lower back is aching to high hell! Have gone to the loo three times now, must get bladder checked. I hear people just soil themselves to make their time. More committment required! Slowed to 8 minute thirty seconds per mile and a fridge just ran past me, get it together! I spot a chap cruising along and latch on. We run together for the rest of the race. He never looks back but maintains 8 minute miles on the dot. I’m not sure he knows I'm there till the last 1m when he turns back to me and shouts “we are going to do this man!”. Elation. We finish together in front of Sultanahmet Camii. Epic. I wobble home. 3 hours 30 minutes finish time. Up again next day for a 10km walking tour (ouch) of the city before heading off to Budapest!
Dont get to see much of budapest as we focus on nailing the album, 13 songs done! Excited. Anatu and Gabriel are wonderful hosts, so awesome to be immersed in music with specialists. Back in London time is spent with James Little doing some climbing (beast), hitting up Sunday football sessions with the boiz. We also have a fun and wild durham reunion, not sure i can handle many of those regularly. Ali Yousef also hosts a mean sunday lunch Catan session for the books. Rob elliot takes it…again! Therapy with Rodney is a positive experience as we delve into the past to unravel unnecessary behaviours for the present I may still be carrying with me. Enhancing emotional vocabulary is a priority.
"Ask yourself: ‘Can I give more?’ The answer is usually: ‘Yes’.”
– Paul Tergat
