It was all
looking touch and go by Wednesday.
Kuwait Airport was closed and the event organizers were circulating notices
saying that runners’ safety was paramount, which all implied that a
cancellation may be on the cards…(I omitted to pass this information to Gill,
on the basis that she was already fairly skeptical about the entire trip). However, the rain subsided on Friday morning and
there had been no messages from Emirates Airlines suggesting any issues with
the flights so after a quick morning jog (which actually turned into 10
kilometre run), Gill and I were off to Dubai Airport for our flights to
Kuwait. (In reality, thanks to our
elevated status as Silver members of the Emirates Airlines’ loyalty scheme,
there was a strong chance that an hour in the Business Class lounge would be
the highlight of the trip and more than pay for a return taxi even if we
decided not to proceed with the flights to Kuwait).
With bellies
full of excellent buffet food and a few glasses of champagne (in my case), we
decided to go ahead and board the plane for the one and a half hour flight to
Kuwait City. As we descended into Kuwait
Airport (sections of which were a construction site), there were no sign of the
flood waters which had caused its closure and I was cautiously optimistic about
the race going ahead. My optimism eroded
somewhat as we endured a slightly confusing few minutes in the Airport trying
to figure out where our e-Visas were turned into “real” Visas (thanks to the
unnamed British man who saw us struggling with the process and intervened with
directions), but we were soon enough outside the airport confusing all of the
drivers at the taxi rank with our request to be delivered to Shaheed Park. After setting up our appointed driver’s
iPhone with directions and Arabic audio we were on our way through fairly
generic looking Middle Eastern streets of largish villas before being
deposited soon enough at a pleasant park for the not inexpensive sum of 10
Kuwaiti Dinar (nearly 25 pounds). It
was certainly a low key marathon “expo”, if it can be described as such, a row
of tables at the end of a largish room in the park manned by a handful of
volunteers dishing out race bibs and t-shirts.
With the kit duly collected, it was time to head to our hotel – The Residence
Inn by Marriott.
Whilst the slightly
scruffy area and airport style security at the entrance may not have boded
well, the hotel was clean and the rooms spacious, with lovely views of Kuwait
Bay and the iconic Kuwait Towers – two large water towers with giant orbs
around halfway up their structures. We had
opted for two rooms, out of an abundance of caution at our unmarried status in
a conservative state (but probably needn’t have bothered on reflection). With luggage deposited, we decided to head
out and explore, taking the short walk to the sea front which offered a pleasant
stroll passed a series of slightly tatty but charming cafes, where locals were
whiling away their Friday, eating, drinking and smoking shisha. The beaches were deserted but the atmosphere
was lovely. After ascending the water
towers, for a rotating view of Kuwait City, just after a handful of fighter
planes had flown over, we went to check out the race start/finish area in the
modern Souq Sharq, which sat on an attractive marina looking back at the city. In hindsight, this
should perhaps have been the end of my walking with the marathon in mind but we
pressed on passed the Grand Mosque and older style Souq Al Mubarakeya, which was a hive of
life, before grabbing a taxi back towards the hotel for food. My Garmin revealed that I had covered over 30
kilometres on foot during the day. My
feet had swollen up and my left heel was very sore but I was in no worse shape
than I have been for the vast majority of marathons when we turned into our
separate beds at around 8:30pm.
Somewhat to my
surprise, I was joined for a very early breakfast by my one lady support crew. We had for company a group of US soldiers who
were participating in the half marathon and when ask to describe their posting
to Kuwait responded in strong Southern drawl that “It sucks, man…” I suspect that a lengthy posting to a dry,
conservative Middle East state is perhaps not on everyone’s wish list. Anyway, with Gill’s encouraging send off
behind me, I headed off for the 2 kilometre or so walk to the start line under
foggy skies, which made marathon conditions perfect. What made matters less perfect was the fact
that delays in Kuwait’s finest confirming that the roads were clear was
steadily pushing back the 7:30am start time.
Not a big deal, except that I had booked return flights to Dubai for 2:15 pm which meant that I was already psyching
myself up for a sub-4 hour marathon if I was to ever any hope of a shower
before transferring to the airport. As
8am came and went and all of the participants became restless, I had to inform
Gill that my prospects of a shower (and either of us therefore having a
pleasant return flight) had evaporated and she would need to pack up both rooms
and meet me at the finish, which I would aim to reach as quickly as possible…
By the time we
set off, it was after 8:10 am and I had to battle my way through groups of fun
runners out for a pleasant Saturday morning 5 or 10 kilometres before being able
to settle into my stride. The route
retraced the walk Gill and I had done the previous evening, passing the Grand
Mosque before swinging through the already busy covered streets of the Souk,
where we received plenty of support.
After passing through the Souq, we returned to the road which ran
adjacent to the sea front and I realized that (1) I was probably running too
fast (around 4:15 kilometre pace for the first 7 kilometres) and (2) I needed
the toilet. Whilst issue (1) was in my
power to address, issue (2) was more tricky as the first two portaloos on the
course were out of service, meaning that I had to hang on until the 17
kilometre point before “attending to business”.
By now the course had entered into a 7km loop which we marathon runners
would be required to complete four times (once for the half marathoners), which
was not a fabulous prospect although it did at least feature the Kuwait Towers
at around its mid-point. Lap one of the
four mini-laps went well enough but laps two and three were painful, although
thankfully Gill was on hand to see me as I started on my last 7 kilometre
loop. I was fading fast by this point
but she reminded me that it would be mildly disastrous if we were to miss the
flight, which was sufficient motivation for me to bite my lip and crack on with
the job at hand. In the end, thanks to
my usual acceleration on the final straight and occasional shouts for “Number
15”, I managed to finish the race in 3 hours 28 minutes and 42 seconds, for
what turned out to be a 10th placed finish (out of 150 runners)…(as well as invention, it appears that necessity can also breed speed...)
There was no
time for self congratulation, reflection or pause as we headed directly from
the finish for a taxi pick up from the nearby fish market. I can only hope that the taxi driver put the
odious smell in his back seat down to said fish market and it was some relief
that me made it to the airport in sufficient time to allow me to swab myself
with wet wipes, albeit in a pretty unappealing – and flooded – toilet cubicle
in the modest surrounds of Kuwait Airport.
After stuffing down a family sized chicken meal and on flight meal on
the smooth Emirates’ return flight to Dubai, I managed to shuffle out for yet
more food before convalescing for the rest of the evening in the care of the
ever patient Gill. All in all, a
successful weekend born from unpromising beginnings…
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