From kmark@pacbell.net Thu Oct 2 01:15:01 1997 Subject: Spartathlon 97 (very long) Date: Thu, 2 Oct 97 01:18:59 -0800 From: Mark Williams The Spartathlon, is a race in Greece, from Athens to Sparta. A distance of about 154 miles. Its origin is the legendary run by Pheidippides, some 2500 years ago to fetch help from the Spartans to defend Athens from the invading Persian fleet. After 4 finishes in a row, this was my 5th run. I flew in to Athens on the Wednesday before the race... The race organization has arranged rooms for the runners at a hotel near the airport, so I go and check in. Im told there are 4 in the room, but Im the first to arrive. A quick look around the room reveals a problem... 2 singles, and a double bed. My bags are firmly planted on a single :-) At race check in there are some medical types doing body composition tests, who confirm my fears... I try not to look when they weigh me, but Im at least 12 pounds overweight (Im having trouble doing the kg to lb conversion in my head, but Im definitely heavier than I want to be). So what? Im overweight, undertrained and jet lagged. Im all set for a PR :-) Later on Im joined by old friend Marvin Skargerberg. He claims the other single bed, and we go out for a walk. As we hand the key in, we notice that its given straight back to two frenchmen. We shake our heads and hope for the best. At dinner we meet up with Steve Benjamin, back for his 4th attempt, who mentions that he's been put in with two frenchmen who dont speak english. We figure out that he's actually in the same room as us - so we're now up to 5! We return to the room wondering how we're going to sort this one out, but to our relief find that the frenchmen have left, luggage and all. They must have counted bags and reached the same conclusion as us... We cant quite believe it was that easy :-) The race briefing reveals nothing new until pretty well the last announcement. "The closing times of all aid stations will be enforced". Now each year they give out a list of all the checkpoints, with opening and closing times. But only 5 are actual elimination points. The rest are just estimates of when the last runners will go through. In fact the column is headed "approximate closing time". But several people pick up on this last announcement and it is clarified... there will be 75 elimination points this year, and the approximate closing times are now approximate cut off times. This worries me a little because the 3rd point, 15.5k closes at 1:25, and Ive never been through in less than 1:27... Race morning. I meet lister David Sill from England, out for his first attempt at the Spartathlon. We seem to have similar targets for the early part of the race and decide to set off together. When the gun goes off, the field disappears faster than I've ever seen before... must be those cut-offs. We run a bit harder than Id like to, and make it through the 3rd point in 1:23. At the 4th point I have about 5 minutes in hand, and I know that from here on I can hardly avoid making up time. David is a little way ahead, but from here on we trade positions all day. My plan is to reach Corinth (81k, the first of the old cut-offs) in between 9h00 and 9h15 (the cut off is 9h30). I know from last year that I will have to walk a lot to do that, so I start a 5 minute run/5 walk regime. About 30k I notice that my left foot is starting to hurt. [A little aside. I ran a 24 hour race in July, and made the mistake of only taking one pair of shoes, which hadnt really been tested over a long distance. By 4 hours I was in pain, and by 8 hours I was in trouble. If Stan Jensen hadnt been there to go fetch me some other shoes (fortunately I live 20 minutes drive away from the track) I would probably be a cripple (Thanks Stan). As it is I couldnt run on it at all for two weeks, and it was 4 before I could run without worrying about what I stepped on] Not being one to make the same mistake twice, I didnt take an untested pair of shoes to the spartathlon, I took the shoes I'd worn in the 24 hour race; yes thats right, the ones which nearly crippled me. Dont ask. And guess what, its starting to happen again. The problem is pressure on the top of my foot, so I pull the tongue from under the laces, and that feels much better. But an hour later the laces are digging into my foot (so thats what the tongue is there for :-) So I find a cigarette box, and slide that under the laces. A little better, but still not good. So I pull out a roll of duct tape (actually just a short length I'd wrapped around a short stick), undo the laces, and wrap the tape around my shoe. Perfect. Meanwhile Im at 40k and still only about 12 mins under the cutoff pace. But cutoff pace slows by about 30 seconds a km here, and I start making up time rapidly. I basically maintain 5/5 except for the hills, and over the last 20k to Corinth where I throw in a couple of 25 minute walks to hold the pace down. I get to Corinth in 9h05 feeling reasonable, but not sure how well Im really going. From here on I should start making up time rapidly. I expect to be at Nemea (124k) somewhere between 14h15 and 14h30 (the cut off is 16h00). I set off from Corinth at 9h08 and for a while Im passing people so dont bother about the time. Then they start coming back... I get to 93k and check the time... coming up to 11h00, and the cut off is 11h15. This is not good... and the people Ive been passing start passing me back in droves. I just feel drained. I think I may have a small problem... I start to wonder what I'm doing here. Why push my luck after 4 good runs here? What on earth made me want to come back? I reach 97k and somehow Im feeling better and starting to keep up with other runners again. 100k and John Slinn is there suffering. He's been violently sick and cant hold anything down, including water. "What can I do?" he asks. Im carrying some Zantac 75 and offer him a couple. He says he's _never_ had stomach problems before (and he's finished the Spartathlon several times). We set off together, but he cant run and I need to make up time... I go through the next couple of aid stations feeling good. Im making up time pretty well. I go through 106k and its getting dark... they dont have flashlights. An official car comes past... "Flashlight?" "Ill make sure they have some at the next aid station". OK its not dark yet. 110k and 13 hours (8pm). 50 mins inside the cutoff. Now it's dark, but they still dont have flashlights... I set off into the dark. Im glad I know the route. Theres no moon, but the starlight is enough to see the edges of the road. This is the last flat section for a while so I press on quite fast. I hit the uphill. The next aid is at the top. They have a flashlight. And my first drop-bag. I pull on a thermal vest and set off again. A few more aid stations and im into Nemea. 14h50. Way too slow, but moving fast. Someone from the body composition study wants to take some measurements. "You'll have to be quick". "Yes, Ive had lots of practice!" he says. I grab a drink. "Come on, Im leaving!". "Oh, I didnt think you meant _that_ quick." He rushes over, and makes his measurements. I head off again. Now its up a long climb, then down to the next aid. Take a left and you're running along a narrow road down the middle of a valley between huge cliffs. There are monasteries (or something) built into the cliffs on either side, and both are floodlit. Its an impressive sight. And as I run easily along the valley bottom with the mountains all around, under a beautiful star filled sky, along the route that Pheidippides may very well have taken some 2500 years ago, I realize the answer to my earlier questions. _This_ is why Im back. How could I be anywhere else when I could be doing this? Then I laugh "Oh yeah? And what about when you are feeling like s**t twenty minutes from now?". Doesnt really matter. I feel great right now. Thats what counts. My flashlight is beginning to fade, but they dont have batteries or spares at the next two aid stations. We now hit the one section of trail on the course, and my light is practically non-existant. Again, Im glad I know the course. I find that I can see well enough to walk most of the time without a light at all, so I leave it off except when the footing is uncertain, and eventually come to the next aid station, where they have more lights. I swap mine for a new one, and set off downhill into Malandreni. Im feeling good. I finally reach Lyrkia (148.5k) at 18h10, 1h50 inside the cutoff. Thats back on track (almost) and Im feeling better than I ever have before at this point. Im confident of running under 33, and maybe even 32 hours. I head off again, and catch Steve Benjamin at around 152k. I walk a while to see how he's going. He looks set to finish this year... at the 4th attempt. We get to Kapareli together. This is the start of the 3000' ascent of the Sangas Pass. The top is at 161.6k almost exactly 100 miles and I look set to get there in around 20h30, about 3:30am - medium to fast for me. I say goodbye to steve and head up the mountain but about 10 minutes later realise that somethings not quite right. I hear steve on the zig below me and joke that he's going to pass me again in a minute and the next thing I know Im doubled up wretching. I dont bring up a lot, and start walking again, but again I start dry-heaving. I stop with my hands on my knees and breath deeply. Ok its over. I take another few steps and double up again. Steve comes past "Are you ok?". "Sure Im fine, just throwing up. Catch you in a bit." Before long Im able to walk again and I catch up to Steve. Im not feeling too good, but at least Im walking. Steve mentions that he's not got any more clothes for the mountain, but he's not too worried. Im inclined to agree about the mountain - its pretty cold on top, but you dont stay there very long - but in the past its been extremely cold down on the other side in the hour on either side of dawn. I have a spare waterproof at the next aid station, and persuade him to take it "just in case". I stop to put on tights and he heads off. I catch him after a few minutes, and although Im feeling awful and having to go very slowly to avoid throwing up, I pass him like he's standing still... which he isnt, quite. This section is rather rough - a lot of loose rock, and no clear trail. Ive always rather enjoyed it in the past but this year its no fun at all. Im plodding up and suddenly see a figure sitting on the trail. Its Bob Meadowcroft. The legend who finished the first 12 Spartathlons, and is now back at the age of 60 to make it 13. He's had a couple of bad falls, and has reached a point where he cant decide which way to go (he's practically blind in one eye, and has poor night vision in the other!) so is waiting for someone who can actually see to lead the way. So we make it to the top together, and slog down into Sangas Village, the downhill leaves me feeling pretty sick. I try to eat in Sangas, but it all comes back up a hundred yards down the road. OK time for drastic action. No more food for at least 2 hours. I set off. I reach Nestani, the 4th of the old cut-offs at 6:10am, 80 minutes under the cut-off. They have boiled potatoes which look so good I have to try one (and yes, its only been an hour). It goes down ok, so I have another. I stand up and realise that Plan A was probably worth sticking to. 5 minutes out of Nestani the potatoes are sitting by the roadside and Im definitely favouring Plan A. This next section is short and flat and I know I can walk it inside the cutoffs. Its unbelievably cold, and the sun takes forever to come up. I wonder how Steve will cope in shorts and a T-shirt and (hopefully) a waterproof. I avoid food, and just take a mouthful of whatever fluid looks most harmless - usually water - at each of the aid stations, and eventually reach Tegea. Its 9:40, still 80 mins inside the cutoff, and 9h20 left to get to the finish - a mere 50k away. Id managed to eat a mouthful of solid food at the last aid station before tegea, and hadnt actually brought it back up, so I decide that now would be a good time to take an eating break. I have a cup of soup with some bread, and some liquid, then sit and change my socks while it digests a little. I wait until 9:50, then set off again. Im feeling very weak. The blood sugar levels are definitely low, and I cant eat enough to do anything about it. But somehow Im not losing too much against the cutoffs. But this is just _so_ unpleasant. Why not drop? I think about all the discussions there have been recently about DNFs. It seemed pretty clear to me, reading those posts, what my opinion was... but Im having trouble remembering right now. No, thats not true. I _know_ that I always enter a race to finish; I dont just drop because its no longer fun. What Im having trouble remembering is _why_ I feel that way. Right now dropping seems far preferable to continuing. Im clearly going to do close to my slowest time, if not actually my slowest time, while feeling worse than ever before... so whats the point? I go over and over it. But in the end I realize that what it comes down to is this: right now, dropping seems like a real good idea, and trying to finish seems insane. In a week's time, and for a long time to come, the reverse will be true. The discomfort is just a temporary thing, so Im going for the long term benefits. The decision is made. I guess it was made all along really. Doesn't make the running any easier. I drag myself into the aid station at 30k to go feeling terrible. I sit to try and get some more calories down. Just as Im leaving, Bob comes through. We team up. His left knee is hurting (a long term injury) and his left ankle is swollen. He cant run, but he can walk faster than I can comfortably maintain. I adopt an awkward mix of running and walking. We agree to finish together unless either of us slows to the point we risk missing the cut-offs. We also agree that this is one of the stupidest things we could possibly be doing, and promise each other that we'll never come and run this race again. I've heard stories of Bobs legendary ability to talk... another runner who once did the last 100k with him is always saying how "he just never stopped". And its all true. And just what I needed. We reached the high point above Sparta... 14k of downhill and then 5k to the finish. We were both looking forward to the aid station at Voutiani. Less than 10k to go, and always a friendly welcome from Isobel, the aid station captain. She had been joking before the race that I always get there and just sit, drink coffee and grin, while Bob always moans and bitches about everything under the sun. So we decided to reverse roles and see if she noticed. That kept us amused for a while, but unfortunately, despite pushing the pace we felt we were too tight on the cut offs and just had to march straight through. Down to the bottom of the hill, and Im feeling dizzy... definitely not enough food. I push ahead to the aid station, and eat something and sit while bob catches up and goes past. I catch him again and we make our way into Sparta. On the outskirts we are met by two girls with olive branches. Our guides to the finish. "How far?" I ask one of them... although Ive done this 4 times before its never the same route in, its varied from about 1k to over 3k. "1.5 kilometers" she says. Hmmm... thats the "official" distance. I hope she's not just quoting. The 4 of us set off and Bob and I are feeling much better to be within striking distance of the finish with just under 50 minutes to go. We know we can relax, so we just walk in at a leisurely pace. After about 15 minutes, a runner sails past then another... hold on, I recognize those water bottles... "Hey! Steve!". He turns "Errr... Hi!" a confused shout; he's clearly a man with a mission, and is trying to catch the runner in front. Bob and I continue our steady progress, and it becomes clear that we are in for one of the longer finishes. Eventually we make it into the home straight and nervously watch a small group bearing down on us - we dont care if we're last, but we dont want to be passed in the last 30 yds either. But we hold them off, and touch the statue together. We're then whisked around for photos before being dragged away in time for the next runner to have his moment of glory. And thats it, all over. Somewhere around 35:40 - a personal worst by a long way, and only 20 minutes inside the cutoff. Was it worth it? Well, it took until the following morning, but the answer is a definite yes. Ill be back for next year. Anyone else for a pleasant stroll through the greek countryside? Sorry, no results yet, I had to leave before they were given out. I do know they had the highest finish rate ever - 60% (excellent running weather, one of the coolest years ever), and the fastest winning time for a long time, somewhere around 23:20. Only Kouros (20:17) and Patrick Macke (23:18) have ever run faster. [yes that is 20:17 for Kouros... his slowest time is inside 22:00] ------------- Mark Williams, kmark@pacbell.net