2014

I had my breakfast early on.  Now all I had was time.  I fetched an old newspaper and looked for a Sudoku.  And I placed one number after another.  I got reminded of logic.  After being inundated with a hubris of thoughts, my mind straightened and I started reasoning things out. 

I reminded myself: the training went extremely well, I got three pb’s in my last four 10k races, I want this badly enough, the target time set by our coach is scientific.  It is now all about placing one step after another rather than numbers.  I owe myself a good time in a half marathon to be happy with.

As I got in the car on the way to Mdina, the stereo went on.  David Bowie blared on, but after a few seconds it annoyed me.  I needed silence and this time I preferred the even sound of the engine instead.

I arrived in time to cheer the Mellieha AC marathoners on the starting line-up with 42 kilometres ahead of them.  I now had over an hour before my start.

A little warm-up, a rendezvous of blue vested friends, and soon enough I found myself on the starting line, with two team-mates closer than others targeting a similar time.  The gun went off.  It was time to just run.

The first kilometre went as planned.  The second the same, the third also.  The fourth slightly faster.  I was getting happy with my average pace showing on my watch.  I was banking from the downhills, but not too much, fearing I would burn myself inside the first half, which basically is the overriding memory of last year.

Soon enough, I passed the Km10 mark, if I remember right on the flat road of Mrieħel.  I was getting close to the half way mark, and as I kept my pace, I could feel my heart beating faster.  In some way, I felt less at ease, in another way, happy that I could maintain it.  A bit like in a speeding vehicle, you get the fear, but you also get the thrill.

Then came the 16th kilometre, the kilometre of the steady hill in depressive surroundings.  It took me longer, a full 20 seconds beyond my target.  I was afraid this could be it, but as I dug in my reserves, I found a positive answer in the timing of the kilometre that followed.  I was now getting closer and closer, but looking back I don’t think I was thinking of the finishing line as yet.  It’s when I finished the 19th kilometre that I remember shouting to my fellow mates ‘it’s just 2 to go’.  The 20th did feel hard, but then it got better on the 21^st.  It was now time for the last stretch, supposed to be 100 metres but always is more on the Garmin.

Then, the finishing line, stopping of the watch, confirmation of hitting the target time.

The watch showed 1:33:56. 

I bettered last year’s personal best by over 7 minutes.

The coach was there waiting, a bit dazed, but planting his feet on the ground out of loyalty towards us.  (I later learned our top runner had a very difficult last 2 kilometres in the marathon, but eventually strove on.)  And it was then a celebration of high-fives, hugs, photos together, congratulations to each other.

During the week, we said we’ll drink this, we’ll drink that amount in the evening.  We met in a pub, but we just had a couple.  The celebration was done all hours before.  And like after a war, I and probably most of us didn’t want fireworks, as they’re too similar of bombs.

Now rested, tomorrow I am back on the road.

The marathon from Malta to Guatemala

Marathon was originally a location.  It was the place from where the Greek messenger Pheidippides was sent from to Athens to communicate the news that the Persians were defeated in the Battle of Marathon.  After that, marathon became synonymous with the foot race of 42.2 kilometres.

Nowadays, it is unfortunately abused by the uneducated of what a marathon really takes to do.  Every act that includes more than the touch of a keyboard is claimed to be a marathon.

But genuine marathoners still exist and the marathon still inspires people to get out of their way and make a difference.

Edward Sultana, is one of them.  After seeing what a fellow Maltese countryman is enduring in Guatemala day in day out, he decided to prepare himself to endure a marathon in the form of a foot race. In the process he wants to create awareness and raise up some funds for a 5-a-side football pitch.

I met up with Edward, and he had to tell me all this about this challenge that is now in just a week’s time.

Firstly, what is your connection with the Guatemala Project?

I was in Guatemala on vacation last year.  While there I paid a visit to Dun Anton Grech, a young Maltese missionary helping out in Puerto Barrios. Guatemala is a truly amazing country, rich in history, culture and breath taking landscapes. A large proportion of the population are of indigenous Mayan descent and most still lead a very tough hard life. When I met up with Dun Anton, he tried to explain why such a resourceful country still had such a high level of poverty. The story was truly depressing. Local people are forced to give up their land to corrupt governments, large multinationals exploit the resources of the country. This led to a civil war where the military government persecuted and massacred thousands of its own people. This did not happen in the middle ages. This happened in the 1980’s and 1990's.

Dun Anton has been in Guatemala since the mid 1990’s . He has witnessed all this first hand. He has set up a number of projects to help these people start a new life. He has constructed two fish farms, set up chicken farms, repaired schools , and the list goes on and on. It’s amazing how one person can make such a big difference to the life of so many people in need.

So that is when I decided to do my little to help him out. The project we are working on consists in the construction of a football pitch and small classrooms to enable kids to learn skills they could use to make a living. The whole idea of the football pitch is to attract the children off the streets and into these classes. The project is in an advanced stage. We hope that with the money we will collect from the marathon, to help finish it off.

How do you see the marathon relating to this project?

We have done a number of fund raising events in the past towards this project and we heartily thank all those who have believed in the project and have donated so generously. This time we felt we had to do something more to deserve each donation. So we thought it is up to us to work hard to earn each donation. That is when the idea to run the full marathon started. In conjunction with the Malta Marathon, Dun Anton will be organising a small marathon in Guatemala as well for the same purpose so there is a stronger link between the two events and countries.

I understand that you have done half marathons in the past, but a whole marathon is a whole different story.  How daunting are 42 kilometres?

Yes, it is a completely different story. Increasing your running distance slowly, slowly until you are in a position to run close to your target of 42 km is tough. The training hours are long and intense. It takes up all your focus and verges on an obsession. But the rewards are great. When I compare where i was a few months ago and where I am now, and all the distance I covered in the last few months, I am truly amazed and I am very proud. All that is left now is a good finish on the race day!!

Edward, I imagine you have been preparing holistically – physically and psychologicaly for the event.  What has been the most challenging and rewarding aspects of the journey so far?

The challenges are great. The physical efforts you have to put in and the mental strength to keep on pushing when your body is so close to giving up are both a challenge but also a reward once you’ve done what you set out to do. It really pushes you to the extreme both physically and mentally. I guess the best reward would be crossing the finishing line. That would mean that it was well worth the training.

Finally, which do you think is the farthest – Guatemala from Malta or the finishing from the starting line?

Good question J definitely the finishing line from the starting. I have to sweat it out all the way.....

More info about the cause can be found here.

Anyone who thinks such an endeavour deserves a donation, can do so by effecting a transfer on HSBC Account: 071-017552-051 or through Paypal on the address d01eds@yahoo.co.uk

The weekend drew closer, then it started, Sunday arrived, the Attard 10k race was with us.

Being just two weeks before the biggest race of the season on the local athletics calendar, it is justifiably seen by many as the final dress-rehearsal for the marathon or its younger sibling, the half-marathon.  Rehearsals or preparations might only be a warm-up for some, but in my personal reality they are the base in the pyramid scheme of things.

I was now in my blue Mellieha AC vest expecting the starting gun to duly go and press the start button on my stopwatch.  The first kilometre is more a case of control over giving yourself to the cause, but this time in the narrowest of roads of Attard, it was a case of finding empty spaces to go through, reminding oneself of Monday morning traffic jams.  It wasn’t the best start possible.

I went through two years of not beating my personal best in a 10km race.  With 10km races being the bread and butter of the road running scene and a benchmark to pit myself against, 10km races at the time could sometimes feel like a long lonely tunnel.  But subconsciously they were probably building a base for today.

I broke my personal best in December and then two weeks ago, I went down under 43 minutes for the first time in Ta’ Qali.  I was now expecting rather than hoping that I will break that in the roads of Attard.

The first kilometre was thus a setback, but I found my rhythm in the second kilometre.  The third one was slightly harder with a silent incline, I did almost enough to get through it fine, the fourth was more vocally inclined and it showed on my watch.  For, the fifth and sixth I was practically within my target time.  In the overall scheme of things, I was though still playing catch-up.  And the seventh felt like a thorn, as the wind blew against in the unsheltered roads of Ta’ Qali.  The pb of 2 weeks ago at the same Ta’ Qali felt far away.

Then came a turn to the left, and all was left for the day were 3 kilometres.  The wind wasn’t felt anymore and after going up the ramp it was time to go down.  I let go.  I had a good eighth kilometre.  The ninth was fair but with the average pace still refusing to go down properly.  Now for the last kilometre – a proper compensation for the earlier inclines.  My body pushed forward, my breath got probably louder, my strides were hopefully going longer.  I think I recorded my fastest kilometre in a race. 

I finally arrived a mere 3 seconds earlier than I actually did two weeks previously.  It felt enough for the day.

Two weeks ago felt beautiful, this time it felt solid.  They make for a good combination.

There was a lot of talk on the weather.  It were as if we live in the middle of an ocean rather than on terra firma.  Rather strangely, the talk about the prospect of strong winds eclipsed that of raining.  For a few days we were like fishermen.

On Friday it howled and howled like a wolf.  I felt like a sheep.

On Saturday, it rained.

On Sunday, the tree in front of me was swaying to the current of the wind.  And of all places, the race was at Ta’ Qali, which for the uninitiated, it is a barren piece of land where shelter is to it what sun is to Scandinavia in winter.

But then we met.  All in the blue colours of Mellieha AC.  We warmed up and as is usually the case, reality proved much better than our assumptions. 

Part of me told me to adjust my expectations.  The other, to just focus and let go.

Admittedly taking off my sweater, and finding myself in just a blue vest and shorts felt cold rather than cool.  The number was already pinned, we marched towards the starting line and 10 kilometres loomed.  The first one went well.  The second as well, and there was a procession of kilometres.

The seventh was really good, with the wind blowing in my back and the road inclined downwards.  Then came a turn and the wind came in my face.

All good things came to an end, or maybe it’s all a matter of balance.

I just put one step after the other, lifted the heel up and increased the cadence.

The wind continued to blow, I continued to move forward, the distance to the finishing line continued to decrease.  The average pace slowed down.

Then came the last kilometre.

I continued doing what I did for nine kilometres.  Then urged my body forward more.

Before knowing it, I was past a finishing line stopping my watch, realising that for the first time I covered the distance under forty-three minutes.  It felt nice.  Like someone jumping past a barrier for the first time.

Now it’s sunk in and am just excited about what to find from now onwards.

Simple things which give a big rush.