Lieven De Vlaminck

Gaëlle couldn’t get time off from work, so she couldn’t come to the marathon, but fortunately Mieke unexpectedly stepped in as my only supporter. The tapering process went well in the last week, Gaëlle made a few excellent carbo-loading meals and generally put up with my crankyness for several days (thanks again girl).

I slept well the night before the race and I had a light breakfast, just a banana and a tiny cup of coffee – just enough to wake me up. After an excellent sports massage the night before the race (another advantage of bringing your very own physiotherapist to a marathon), my legs felt fine on race day. Again with Mieke’s help, all pre-race formalities went well, and after a short warm-up, I was ready to race!

The Portugese weather decided to co-operate for marathon running today: the temperature was just under 15°C, it was overcast and there was no wind. Although the official goal was to finish under 3:30, I felt good and still wanted to have a shot at 3:20. I knew the first half was very hilly, and those hills could be quite steep, then there was a 17k flat stretch along the coast, and finally the biggest uncertainty: a steep climb in the last few km to the finish line. The target pace for 3:20 is 4:44min/km, so the plan was to try to average 4:40min/km and hope to bank enough time to spend on the final hill. All in all though, I expected to finish just under 3:25. As I went over the numbers one last time, the gun went off and away we were!

I had positioned myself quite at the head of the pack, so there was very little pushing in the first few hundred meters. I immediately followed Pfitzinger’s advice to run the first one or two km slower than the target pace, so I aimed between 4:45 and 4:50 for the first km. The Garmin showed 4:47 after 1km, which was a great confidence booster. At about 3km, an older Portuguese guy commented on my shirt (it had something about trailrunning on it) in Portuguese. I told him I didn’t understand, and he loudly continued shouting in Portuguese as he picked up the pace and arrogantly overtook me. At that time, I didn’t expect to see him again

For the first half of the race, I followed three guidelines. Firstly: run fast, but relaxed. Secondly: spend as little mental energy as possible. And third: use equal effort both up- and downhill. So I just relaxed, kept up a good pace, pushed just a little bit on the uphills, and – as usual – went quite fast downhill. The hills obviously made for very uneven splits, but the average pace was higher than I had intended. I was slightly worried that I had started out too fast, but I felt really good and I was enjoying the running, so I decided to try to keep up the pace and possibly go for a really good time. Just before halfway, there was a long downhill where I even managed a 4:18 split, and Mieke was there to cheer me on around 19.5km, where I was still feeling great and running very relaxed. I shouted things were looking good, and she knew because I gave her a chronometer as well and I was there earlier than she had expected. I passed the halfway mark in nearly exactly 1:37:30, which – assuming an even split – would yield a 3:15 finish. But that obviously didn’t include both fade and that dreadfull last climb, for which I really didn’t have a plan. Coming onto the flat, it felt like coming home and I immediately settled into the familiarity of a steady, solid pace.

Between 22 and 32km, Pfitzinger calls it the no-man’s land of the marathon. There is still a long way to go, but you’ve already come a long way as well, so your body is starting to make itself known. Along the coast, I thought I detected a tiny headwind, and almost automatically I started to look for other runners to draft and co-operate. But this is something which has happened to me before on many races: I look for someone ahead of me who seems to be keeping an equal or slightly faster pace, then I accelerate to close the gap, but as soon as I catch him, I have to slow down again to match his speed, which then frustrates me, so I overtake him and the process starts all over again. Additionally, when I draft, I find it frustrating to run out of the wind, because I feel that I can go faster, but as soon as I overtake the other guy, I can’t speed up because I’m in the wind again. Awkward :s

Anyway, I ran from runner to runner like this, and eventually I spotted a group of three which seemed to go quite fast and I put in some extra effort to catch them. Soon after I did though, the group broke up and I decided to stick with the leader (apparently called ‘Luis’, by his shirt), hoping to co-operate with him. I drafted for a bit, but shortly after we switched and I took the lead, we apparently joined the semi-marathon which seemed to have just started. What this meant is that suddenly, we hit a wall of slow, cumbersome women running five-in-a-row, plodding their way through something they shouldn’t have started in the first place. Sticking together was all but impossible now, so there was no choice but to navigate the sudden crowd on my own. I saw ‘Luis’ a couple of times as he, too, navigated his way through the semi-marathoners, but after several km’s he apparently slowed down and I lost sight of him. At one moment, I saw the 3:00 group passing by in the other direction on the other side of the coastal road and I made a mental picture of the pacemaker with his yellow flag and about a dozen athletes grimly sticking to his relentless pace, imagining myself in that group in Rotterdam in April.

The turning point at the coast was at 28km, and I still felt quite good, so I just plowed my way through the kilometers, generally enjoying the race, focusing on maintaining the same pace and pushing through no-man’s land. I chowed down a second energy gel at 30km and after 32km, it was time to switch to survival mode and I mentally pictured two other guidelines. One is from Pfitzinger again: “The last 10km is what the poorly prepared marathoner fears, and the well-prepared marathoner relishes. This is what you have trained for. Untill now, you had to be patient and carefull, but now you can really see what you’ve got.” And the second image was a text message I received from my boss just before the start: “In the last 10km, run as though your life depends on it”. At 33km, I passed the older guy who had commented in Portuguese on my shirt in the beginning of the race. He was a lot more quiet now

Unfortunately, the effort was beginning to take its toll, and I felt that I should not push too hard yet, as the last, steep climb was still ahead of me. So at about 34km, I had to slow down a little bit. Not much, but hopefully enough to recover a little bit and make it up that fearful hill. Unexpectedly, Mieke was there again at about 35km to cheer me on. I managed a smile, but I couldn’t hide the fact that I was suffering now. As I turned away from the coast, the climb up to the finish started, gently at first, but steadily growing steeper and steeper. Inevitably, my legs started cramping up. The battle up the hill was fierce, and I just endlessly repeated to myself “five more kilometers, five more kilometers, five more kilometers”, and I imagined just going for a single lap around the Watersportbaan at home. My pace dropped significantly, I tried not to panick and reassure myself that this was to be expected. Seeing other runners slowing down as much as or even more than me reassured me somewhat, and with the pain becoming really excruciating now, I fought as hard as I could. At times I almost felt like I was standing still, although only one kilometer was significantly slower than 5:00. At the worst point, for a brief moment I even feared that I would drop out, but then I saw what appeared to be the top of the hill. Usually however, what seems to be the top turns out not to be the top, but this time it was and the road leveled out again. By now, my legs felt like they were pierced by 50 knives, but I gathered every bit of mental energy I had left, ignored the pain and picked up the pace again, seeing that I could finish well within 3:20. The very last 1500m actually went very well, fueled by pure adrenalin, and I tried to focus on keeping up a nice form as I came up the track for the last 200m, neatly sticking to the inside lane. I crossed the finish line feeling exhilarated and exhausted. I wordlessly gathered my medal and a goodie bag, stumbled on the tribune where Mieke was already waiting for me (slightly out of breath herself as she had to hurry to get there in time) and I collapsed into a seat. I was exhausted, my legs were ruined, but what a performance… 3:18:16 (officially 3:18:42, 202nd position out of 1341).

I really enjoyed the marathon and I’m extemely happy with the result. Things went very well throughout the whole race, including the preparation, and I don’t think I could or should have done many things differently. 15 runners from Belgium participated in the marathon. And I’m the first!!!

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/132973781

http://www.lisbon-marathon.com/