Tokyo oh Tokyo

You have to love Tokyo. Are there possibly more friendly, helpful and nice people anywhere on the planet? I doubt it. And if these people organise one of the six biggest marathons in the world it has to be awesome, right? With 330,000 registrations, the chosen 38,000 runners who had the privilege to attend this year probably thought the same. But Tokyo oh Tokyo what is wrong with your weather? I had never run a marathon in constant rain before, including the waiting at the start area and getting yourself sorted after the finish. Well, there is always a first, but with now 58 marathons under my belt why did it have to be Tokyo, one of my most anticipated and where I had to travel furthest to?The first raindrops appeared when I left the hotel. By the time I reached the start area a solid continuous downpour had established itself. My shoes got wet, I got colder and colder and that was half an hour before the start. When we were finally allowed to move I was soaked, freezing and more in the mood to call it a day and have a hot shower than having 26.2 miles to run. But hey, it’s all part of the fun and experience.Amazingly, once we started and the music kicked in and the crowd (covered under countless umbrellas) cheered you on it almost felt like waking up from hibernation. The muscles were cold, but you had to start slowly anyway, because of all the runners around you. There wasn’t much of a thinning runners out, by staging the times of each starting bloc, like you have it in London or Berlin. All 38,000 runners pretty much started at once. What followed was a marathon journey that felt a bit like in a Pac Man game or pinball machine. The overtowering buildings left and right to you never stopped. There are a lot of wide roads, straight lines, U-turns and running back. And the line of friendly faces who cheered you on with genuine enthusiasm didn’t stop either. How would a sunny Tokyo marathon have looked like, when you get so many people and volunteers on the street with such positive energy even on a rainy one?And then there is the litter and loo situation. I did not think it was possible to have a city that out-cleans the Swiss. But Tokyo does it. I don’t think I have ever seen the smallest bit of rubbish lying around. So it did not surprise that the entire marathon course was lined with friendly helpers that held transparent bin bags open or sign posts for the next closest toilet facility and extra sign posts with additional information how far it is to the next toilet facility (in most cases just a few hundert meters). There was really no excuse for just dropping your empty energy gel wrap or public peeing, plus the vague feeling that there is probably something like capital punishment for such offences. At kilometre 28, when it was my time to benefit from this awesome loo-infrastructure, I realised too late that I had to run down an underground station, dodging innocent people who had nothing to do with marathoners, had to be guided, re-guided and guided back by many friendly volunteers and underground staff. Again, it could have been a Super Mario level or similar. When I flushed and rushed out I noticed this alarm signal and again countless staff and helpers running toward the men toilets. I couldn’t help but wondering whether I had confused the flush with an alarm button. This experience was typical for my time in Tokyo: There are so many signs, helpers, helper’s helper, information, instructions, guiding lines and symbols, yet I found it almost impossible to decipher or intuitively make sense of most of them. And I constantly asked myself if Tokyo’s look and feel is influenced by Nintendo’s game design or vice versa. It’s probably both.Anyway, once I was back above ground to complete the last third of the race I got really cold. The rain had not stopped once, the temperatures remained at a stable 7 degrees Celsius and around some corners, a sudden unpleasant wind blew in your face. Not a good feeling when you are exhausted and actually want to have a hot shower and go to bed. But that’s the moment where you have to stop thinking and start focussing on putting one foot in front of another. The result, if you are able to stick to that, is always the same: At some point, you will finish.For me that was at 3 hours 40 minutes and 36 seconds. It still rained. It was still cold. Which meant hanging around at the finishers area and taking in all the good vibes of a major race like this needed to be postponed to another time. I rushed (yes, somehow I still could walk fast) towards the exit, happily receiving really nice goodies on my way like a Tokyo Marathon branded heat sheet and (even better) towel, the medal of course and the food bag with some delicious peanut butter sandwich thingies – yum! Then off to the unfathomable complex transport system that meant to bring me closer to the hotel. Under usual circumstances, I would have walked the 20 minutes distance, but not that day. Below ground other seemingly disorientated runners where huddling in groups, it looked a bit like a survivors camp of a war zone. A lady stood there lost crying. She must had been freezing in her sleeveless running top and shorts. When checking on her she assured she was fine and waiting for someone to pick her up. I still felt very sorry for her, not having the slightest idea how to help. Next to her was a group of guys putting up finisher’s congratulation posters “Scenes from Tokyo Marathon 2019”. The race had not even finished yet and they are already glueing huge posters to the wall, with latest marathon pictures? How? Who produced them that quickly?I will remember Tokyo as a place of contrast and extremes and I think the marathon branding is a good example for that. It is one of the most beautiful marathon designs, that uses simple shapes and fonts, but fills them with a multitude of interwoven lines of all colours. Complexity within simplicity and simplicity within complexity. That’s how I experienced Tokyo and that’s why I hope I will come back one day.