Abba-dabba-done

 

 

Whilst the names ascribed to the chosen alarm tones on my iPhone – “Crystals” and “Night Owl” – may sound like the sort of soothing melodies someone may opt for as part of their home birthing package, when they sound at full volume at 3am on a Friday morning, they are as welcome and soothing as an electric shock.

 

Once I had managed to clear my head sufficiently to remember who I was, where I was and why I had been cruelly awoken at such an unearthly time, I clicked into marathon gear.  Gill had very kindly offered to arrange a Kareem (UAE Uber equivalent) pick up to ensure that I was safely delivered to the start line and asked to be given a little shake when the booking needed to made.  Despite my brain only functioning at around 30%, I managed a (to my mind) decent visual gag by waking Gill with a small stuffed Sheikh doll (aka “a little sheikh”).  Sadly, this hilarity won only luke warm plaudits from a very tired Gill…

 

The start of the marathon was at the far side of Abu Dhabi and therefore approximately a one and a half hour drive in good conditions.  An insurmountable language barrier meant that by the time we reached Abu Dhabi the only chat which passed between me and the driver during this time was a request from me for the radio to be turned up (this was after I had given up on sleeping on the way).  However, as we approached the start of the marathon a bit more dialogue was required as we ran into numerous road blocks, where roads had been closed for the marathon course, so had to use team work and gesticulation to figure our way through the mini maze of back streets.  For once, time was on my side, but sadly my bladder capacity was not and I arrived at the marathon village about due to explode, thanks to a cup of coffee before departing and a litre of water in the car.  My heart sunk when confronted with a lengthy queue for the toilets and I thought I may have to risk deportation or worse and relieve myself where I stood until I caught a glimpse of a portakabin not too far away, which happily turned out to be an empty toilet for gents.  With disaster averted, I made my way to the start line in plenty of time for the introduction of the superstar athletes, lured by the US$100,000 first prize for the inaugural Abu Dhabi Marathon, and the general pre-race buzz of nervous anticipation.

 

 

 

I positioned myself relatively close to the front of the field (which comprised athletes running both the full marathon and 10 kilometer event) at the start line and only had to negotiate myself past a small number of over ambitious runners before the pack thinned out and I was able to run at whatever pace I determined.  The race had started at 6am and it was barely light before I realized that I had determined to destroy myself as quickly as possible by clocking the first 10 kilometers in a totally unsustainable 40 minutes and 54 seconds.  There was portaloo stationed a few metres after the 10 kilometre mark and I decided to use it as some sort of personal reflection booth, sitting to have a brief word with myself about the lack of wisdom in my approach to the first quarter of the run.  With my personal coaching session over, I slowed my pace significantly as the course headed out opposite the Corniche, for a lovely view of Abu Dhabi over the water just as the sun was creeping its way over the numerous tall buildings.  With the spirit of the reflection booth still on board I had a pleasant moment appreciating just how lucky I was at this point to be fit, healthy and out running on a beautiful morning…

 

Fast forward an hour and a half or so and no amount of time in a reflection booth could have persuaded me of anything other than how I wanted the run to end so I could eat lots of food and sit down.  In the intervening 90 minutes, I had passed through the halfway point (in just under 1 hour 35 minutes), and started to fall into regular, but short, walks, mostly taking on board the water, biscuits or sports gels available at drinks stations, although increasingly whenever there was even a hint of incline (admittedly, variations in gradient were fairly limited in this very flat city).  The final stretch was mentally the toughest as the course looped back from its furthest outbound point, at Port Zayed, for what seemed like an eternal eight kilometer stretch back to the finish line under ADNOC Tower.  Thankfully, there was plenty of shade offered by the tall buildings which sit behind of the Corniche but my legs were done for the day and it was primarily mental effort which carried me to the finish line in 3 hours 27 minutes and 40 seconds, for a finish place of 55^th place out of just over 600 marathon runners (over one hour 20 minutes behind the extraordinary winning time of 2:04!)…

I spent as little time as possible contemplating life and lost nipples in the changing room, knowing that the longer I sat, the less likely I was to be able to stand and shuffle my way to the nearby roads where I hoped to find a taxi.  This latter exercise turned out to be remarkably straightforward and, having started the marathon at 6am, I was on my way back to Dubai by 10am, stinking out a poor man’s taxi with feet which smelt like a mixture between an abandoned abattoir and a pungent cheese factory in the French countryside.  All in all, a fairly standard finale to my 112^th marathon.