TCS Amsterdam 2019 marathon - beat the crowd... if you can

TCS Amsterdam 2019 marathon - beat the crowd... if you can

Just in time

I took an early sleep for the first time in almost a year, since the next day was a big run day.

I woke up on Sunday, October 20, very aware that it was a national holiday back home.  I would usually be celebrating the holiday with a long holiday rest.  Not today.  I was having an early morning breakfast at six-forty-five, ready to leave at seven.  Our duo would soon be joined at Bornsesteeg stage near Wageningen Uni by our third team member, Dori.  Bus number 88 soon arrived.  It was still dark despite being just past seven.  

One swipe of our travel cards on that bus took us to Ede Wageningen, a 15-minute travel on bus.  We walked the short distance to the next block, passed through the underground route and emerged on the other side of the train platform.  We swiped a second time, ready to get a train to ‘somewhere near Amsterdam’.  The train soon arrived and the three got in and travelled for over forty-five minutes.  We got out at some point, swiped out, and walked downstairs to the next train platform to wait for a ‘Metro’, read ‘city train’.  It was just past eight.  

At our underground platform of Amstelstation we did take the first train that came by – of course after card swipe.  This electric took off, with most people in it just standing.  But it did not take long.  I had hardly started to enjoy the ride when…

“Wait a minute?  This does not seem like the right direction!”

“What da-ya mean?,” I asked.

“This Metro is going in the opposite direction.  We have to get out!”

We were out at the next station.  Dori was like, “Fay, you mean you don’t know the right train?”

“Of course, I do.  It is number 51, I just got it wrong.  Was in a hurry,” she responded, and turning to me, “Make sure you do not write this on your blog.”

“I won’t,” I told her, “A long distance runner has so much in their mind to even remember such small details.  I am now just thinking of the starting line.  Just get us there in good time.”

“I will,” she said.

Zipping up

The 51 was soon snaking onto the platform, and it took us speedily towards Amstelveenseweg, the stage near the Amsterdam Olympic Stadium.  It was full and continued being full.  It was a standing train and was now mostly a marathoners train.  We had a light moment when at some train stop one passenger got in while his colleague was locked out of the door, with the train ready to go.  The person in had to force the door open for the colleague to get in.  It was a smileful moment.  But the ride was short and we would soon be disembarking.

The exit swipe-out points were congested, as the big multitude of runners jostled to get out of the train station.  It was just past nine.  The stadium gates were to be closed at 9.15am.  By that time all marathoners who intended to do the 42 should have crossed the gates into the stadium – or stay out.  We did not come from KE to stay out of the stadium.  Getting in was a must!

We did that last titration, at the portable washrooms just outside the stadium, before start of marathon.  It was a strange observation that the men had ‘an open’ urinal just there, next to the portables, just next to our queue.  I could just see men assemble at this circular station that can stand four people, and just unzip!  Just there – in full view, before adults, children, men, women and sundry.

“Surely!  This ain’t right!,” I commented to Fay and Dori.

Dori just laughed it off, feeling shame-on-herself.  Fay was not even hearing anything.  She wanted to get over with all this and be at the stadium before closure.  It was now 9.13am, and the people in the four cubicles did not seem to be in any hurry to do their thing.  We just waited.

We dashed to the full stadium – full at the stands – full on the pitch – making it just around 9.17am.  The gate was not yet closed.  

“I have to go, see you later.”

“You dash to your Pink area.  I shall join my Green,” Fay responded.

The runner numbers had been printed with some colour-coded strips, just below the run number – white for invited athletes and those intending to run in upto 2h 40min, Yellow for those who can run under 3hrs, Pink for those intending to run between 3hr and 3hr 30min, Orange for those intending to run 3hr 30min to 4.00 and Green for those intending run in the 4.00 to 4.30 range.  There was even a Blue for those over 4.30 but upto the maximum time limit of 6-hours.

The marathon medal (picture courtesy of Fay)

Colourcoded

The ‘White’ and ‘Yellow’ were let to leave at 9.30am.  And I later learnt that the official timing started at that time.  After their exit, the Yellow and Pink assembled at the starting line, rather, assembled at half of the stadium track, waiting to be allowed out.  At 9.35am, this combined group was let out of the stadium.  

I assume that the next Orange group was let out at 9.40am, but I shall not know because I was out when the 9.35am run started inside the Olympic Stadium.  The stadium track heading out of the stadium was full of athletes.  Running was almost impossible – overtaking was completely impossible!  We just started off walking and slowly jogged out of the stadium.  By the first kilometer the road width had even thinned out and runners had to stop and wait for the crowd of runners ahead to fit themselves onto the narrow road, before we resumed our walk.  There was no much run possible for the first 15km – and that to me was the undoing of this run!

I had to lookout for an open space, usually at the edge of the road, and sprint ahead on such a gap for some 100-meters or so, before being blocked once more for over five minutes.  I would do another sprint whenever the opportunity presented itself, only to be completely blocked once again by the crowd ahead.  This style of running was really usurping my energy.  The run was supposed to be evenly-paced and evenly-ran.  This was not happening – and these short bursts of high energy was starting to waste me.  

Things would improve on the 15km mark when we started going around the long river.  Fay had corrected me that similar reclamations were canals, not river, though this long stretch was surely the Amstel river.  I was not sure whether this was a river or a canal myself.  It was too modest to be a river.  I kept referring to it as a canal – what’s the difference anyway?  It is a body of water, flowing, possibly.  What happened to ‘if it behaves like this, it is this’?  Ah, who cares? 

The marathon route (source: https://www.tcsamsterdammarathon.nl/en/)

The giants

We did the 14k to 20k on one side of this river, then we crossed the river on a footbridge to face the 20k to 26k stretch on the opposite side.  It is on this stretch of 20-26k that I saw the first traditional Dutch windmill just affixed onto a house besides the running track – static.  Majestic!  Gigantic!!.  That thing was massive.  From my estimation, each of the four fins had a radius of about 20m!  Affixed to a middle hub.  That would make a total tip to tip diameter of about 50m – a half the length of a stadium field!  Wow!  Amazing!!  If only I could take a picture?  But not when on motion aiming for a good run, in good time.

On this river we also saw a guy, and later a lady flying high over the water – they call it, eh… water jet or flyboard aruba or something – I am not sure, but it ain’t a marathon, or maybe it was an upwards marathon?.  I also saw marathoners starting to lose their senses, so I guessed, since I just noted them stopping to pee next to the road, without a care in the world of the multitude of runners moving along next to them.  Some runner seemed even ‘too tired’ and just stopped and let go at the edge of the tarmac.  I shook my head with amazement.  

This would not be the last time that I would see of such an episode.  Coincidentally, I only saw men do this.  Again, who cares?  Do what you want to do on a long run.  Just do not infringe on the rights of other runners.  This behavior was however about to cross the line, bearing in mind that each water station in 5km intervals had ‘proper’ washrooms.  But before you judge, just remember that the real marathon starts after half-marathon distance – and when it does, insanity slowly starts sneaking into each runner.  These sporadic episodes were observable after we had crossed the river.

We know you

I was still amused by what I was seeing when I was interrupted by the cheering crowd, 

“Barack!, Go! Go! Go!”

I was taken aback.  I was not expecting this.  I just waved back as I wondered how someone would know me over here.  I was 10k km from folks who knew me!  This name calling would be repeated about five or six times over the course of the run.

“But how did they know me?”

At least the person who shouted, “Kipchoge” at me knew me ‘somehow’, but the others?  Knowing me ‘exactly’?

That part of the run, the river circuit, was as smooth as expected, especially after the runners having thinned out.  We had already been given our dose of energy drink, water and chocolate cubes at 5k, 10k, 15k, 20k, 25k.  As advertised.  Without failure.  At 26k I took a washroom break!  I could not survive the rest of the journey.  From there it was more chocolates and bananas and gel at 30k and 35k, in fact from 15k we did have all these niceties.

I have already known since time immemorial that the 42k starts at 21k, but let me add that the same 42k is also lost at 36k.  That means that your 42 is determined in that 15k range.  Beat that and you have beat the marathon.  I was very careful with this range.  I was especially cognizant of the 36k.  I preserved the chocolate that I had picked at the 35k water station and bit a small piece thereafter, keeping it in the mouth to melt away, seeping up the sugars as I went along.  

In less than 5-minutes, the 36k came and went.  It was a bit smooth.  But not for few others.  I started seeing people just drop off the run, sit on the side of the road or just stop and stand or stop and start walking.  That was a very bad distance to lose your steam.  I could feel for them.  Walking the last six was not an experience you would wish even for the enemy of your enemy.  The body is by then just hit with many things at once – tiredness, muscle aches, lightheadedness, loss of focus and the shoes start pinching with every step.  

I now had to survive the last six.  Just six more and this would be over.  The trick now was just to keep going until you see the finish line.  Do not check on time.  Do not check on distance.  Do not be distracted by other runners or the cheering crowds – just keep going, focusing on the finishing line.

'The shoe' at Olympic stadium

Allez

The 40k would emerge at some point.  By then I was just thinking about the finish line.  I was not even seeing the many cheering crowds.  There was even a sign along the road with “Go Go Go Allez Allez”.  There were at least two live bands on the route.  There were live DJs in at least ten places along the route.  The various music points, DJs or otherwise were over thirty.  

I liked the DJs and their kits – their machines would usually be full decks affixed on top of some vehicle, with the DJ protruding through the roof of the same vehicle.  I remember seeing a VW beetle, VW combi, Martin Mini, some sedan that looked like a Datsun – just funny vintage cars parked along the road used to DJ.  There was even a DJ in a boat on that river circuit, or was that a pianist?  He was just there – standing next to something that was either a mixer or a keyboard – loud classical music coming from his traveling boat.  

There were also some small portable ‘music boxes’ for lack of a better word, hauled on 2-wheels, parked besides the road.  These ‘things’ were playing some form of traditional accordion-like music.  They called it ‘draaiorgel’ (barrel organ) playing ‘levenslied’ – life music.

I also learnt that as a runner you can waste so much energy checking on your timer for those splits when doing these long runs.  There is little chance of changing your achievement by simply relying on your gadgets.  Just learn to run your run, and let the gadgets confirm what you eventually did, when the run ends – my view though – as I headed for the finish, a phone on either side of the pockets of my shorts and the wrist watch on my left wrist – all the three unchecked, unattended, since I started the run.

The TCS marathon number

Interview

I was glad to (finally) see the finish line inside the Olympic stadium.  Two hundred metres was the only obstacle ahead.  This run was done!  I was happy!!  It was a good marathon.  A marathon like any other.  Just a marathon with a difference – some difficulty that I do now know from where, since the course was fairly flat.  

So, while the Kenyan took the men’s crown in 2.05.09 and our Ethiopian neighbours took the women’s gold in 2.19.26, I did bring my runner number 3518 to an end in 3.22.59 as per the analog wrist gadget that had refused, yet again to sync with the foot gadget.  Runkeeper gave me a 42.78km - 3.23.26, while Endomondo gave me a 43.25km - 3.23.13.  

We finished off as a photographer pulled me aside to get a few pics for the TCS album.  

“Barack, right?”

“Right!,”  I was facing another how-did-he-know moment when I saw him staring at my runner number.  The name was conspicuously written just above the number 3518.

“Kumbe!,” I sighed!

The Tata Consultancy Services, TCS Amsterdam marathon gave me a final official chip time of 3.22.23, and position 2289 (combined men and women) based on a ‘gun time’ of 3.27.29!  Surely!  The gun went off 5-minutes before we started!!.  You cannot allocate positions by the gun!  

Thereafter it was a queue for medals followed by polythene sheets to keep us warm – this was a first one.  Out of the stadium we did get that final Isostar 500ml energy drink and a banana, before we limped off back to the stadium to watch runners finish their races and celebrate each one of these athletes for their achievement.  Fay would soon be doing her own lap of honour as she shattered her new 42k record.  We were a happy duo celebrating our representation of team KE, team NMNM2, team IK, team KE-in-NL, team KE-in-NO, team ‘Wageni’, team 'Wageniwengi', team 'Wangige'!

It was while traveling back to Wageningen on the NS Intercity for the 1-hour travel that I saw a ticket inspector for the first time come by our sitting place on the upper deck to check on tickets.  She demanded to see the cards, upon which she would scan each on a small portable machine.  I learnt that this would show whether the ticket was initially swiped, and whether it had money to sustain the journey.  

I had already used this train twice before and there was no such check on these previous two trips.  The first one on Saturday evening was the noisy one, when we sat on the upper deck and chatted our way for one hour.  The second one in the morning of the run was strangely quiet as we travelled to the stadium.  We hardly said a word before some lady came to our sitting position of four to give us the “Shhh!,” quiet sign.  I gestured to Fay and Dori in a manner of, “What is going on here?”.  Fay would tell me in hardly audible whispers that this was a ‘silent’ coach.  

However, we were all chatty in the evening after the marathon as we travelled in the intercity towards Ede.  We were glad to be back to a normal ‘you can talk’ coach, perched on top of the decker.

“What would happen if I did not have a ticket during this inspection?,” I asked the two.

“I don’t know.  Maybe they fine you!?,” Dori stated.  

“They would fine you something like sixty-five Euro!?,” Fay responded, forgetting to add that this would be over and above the usual fare that you would otherwise pay.  The normal fare was about 15 Euro per train ride for a 1-hour ride similar to ours.

WWB, The Coach, Amsterdam, Netherlands, October 20, 2019