Barcelona By Feel

It had almost been a year since I attempted my last marathon. That was in Hannover. And it has probably been three to four years since I am running with an injury that is stubbornly reluctant to go away. After finishing Hannover, I had felt positive, but then entered a new cycle of the pain getting worse. So I finally saw a specialist, who, after seeing the x-ray, laughed because he couldn’t believe I had just run a marathon in this condition. Not sure if heel sporn is the right word, but it’s something along these lines, plus a hefty build-up of calcium (bone tissue) in my Achilles tendon. Below the x-ray for educational purposes. It’s the heel bone, and within the red circle, what is wrong with it. 

The doc might have been a bit over-dramatic when he said “One for the books” and that I should rather be lying on the floor screaming in pain, but hey, it does bring a certain message home. He offered me surgery that would take six months to heal, but since I have still been running like that, maybe I should try wearing proper running shoes again and see how that goes. (I had stubbornly insisted on doing the minimalist thing, up to this point.) It was a sobering chat that led me to getting a pair of trainers and, maybe more importantly, parting with all running ambitions and vowed to myself only to run by feel. Not by numbers, paces, heart rates – only by what feels good. 

It took six, seven months before I felt I was ready to sign up for another marathon. The progress was slow, the injury not disappearing. I was often doubting whether all of this was really the right way to recover. An osteopath voiced his opinion about my pelvis that needed opening. YouTube’s Yoga (for your feet) with Adriene became my go-to recovery exercise, oh, and I increased my swimming efforts, because, well, it felt good. When my marathon buddy, Michael, informed me about his entry to Barcelona, I cautiously signed up as well. Not putting my sub-4 goal as target time, but 4:30, because I had promised myself not to push it, hadn’t I?

Going back to sub-4 marathon times had become a bit of an obsession. I had to let it go. And after many months of not seeing much progress, it eventually felt like the consistency was adding up. On bad days the heel pain was a 3 or 4 out of 10, and not an 8 or 9. I could do longer distances while still enjoying it. My overall weekly mileage climbed slowly but steadily without having to force myself. And even the average pace eventually picked up while keeping the heart rate low, despite not looking at paces or heart rates at all while running. So when I joined Michael once again at the start line of a marathon I was extremely positive that I actually could do a sub-4 by doing it by feel.

Michael had the same sub-4 goal and doing this thing side by side was a tempting plan. We were in different start blocks based on our estimated finishes (4 hours for him, sub-4:30 for me). But this was not an issue. The Barcelona Marathon is well organised, but not strictly marshalled (or policed). So me just sneaking into the next faster start block was not a problem. However, following the sub-4 pacers turned out to be one. They went straight to the front of the block, while we were stuck in the middle, and when we finally came to cross the start line, the pacers were long gone and out of sight. 

I thought trying to catch up to the pacers would not feel right, plus I had my Garmin PacePro settings on. PacePro gives you split pace suggestions based on incline/decline segments of the actual course. This was extremely helpful. Not to push me, but to slow me down, especially on inclines. As a result, I fell behind Michael and did my own race. Which turned out to be great! I don’t know what it is, but this South European energy and joy is infectious. Especially if you allow yourself to take it in. It could also be challenging, because for a Londoner, you feel an unusual high amount of elbows in your ribs, and encounter runners doing unpredictable moves in front and next to you, especially at the feeding stations.

The kilometres kept just clocking away. The temperature stayed welcoming cool, since there was a lot of shade the first two-thirds of the race. But even when the sun was eventually on my face and skin, I really enjoyed it. Barcelona has a street grid that gives the course a lot of straight roads which feel almost zen. Many roads are lined by trees, a lovely cheery crowd seems to be everywhere, nice architecture is popping up at every corner, both old and modern, and even a bit of seaside is included. When I reached km 30, I thought I had a realistic chance to bag this sub-4. At the same time, I reminded myself not to get carried away and to rather think slow than fast, and to scan the body for how it feels. At km 35, to my surprise, I had closed up to Michael and the pacers. Michael and I even crossed the km 35 time measure point synchronously (which turned out not to matter, my timing chip must have gotten confused with another runner and I have not seen my official times yet, maybe never will, but luckily I timed the race rather accurately with my Garmin). 

Eventually, I overtook even the pacers. Michael stayed in his own race and fell back. The last kilometres felt like a dream. Legs were tired, yes, but there was so much energy left. It was hard to believe, and something I thought I would never experience again. Finishing a marathon strong, being able to “sprint” past other runners on that last kilometre is just the best. Watch out in Barcelona though. The route stays crowded until the end. The spectators in their excitement are also pushing into the route and narrowing it down further. And, like in my case, they might jump in front of you because they just spotted their buddy and want to run a stretch with them while doing selfies. I had just started to gear up for the last push when that happened, and tripped over the legs of that person that jumped in front of me. Being conditioned not to be too shy of physical touch, I grabbed this person’s arm and shoulder to try avoiding a fall. So together we stumbled forward for a bit, while he continued to be determined to support his buddy and take pictures, while successfully absorbing my impact and stabilising both me and him, so no one fell in the end. It was insane. I can tell you, only in Barcelona.

Once back on my own feet, I did feel a bit shaken. My left hamstring felt close to cramping from this sudden and unexpected acrobatics. Once again, I had to prioritise scanning body and legs over pushing on. But that was a minor las hiccup and once the Arc de Triomf was in front of me, it felt like it had been built and put there for me personally. I was so excited and happy to have done it: 3:56 and 29 seconds Garmin time (maybe they are able to correct the chip mess-up, and I might get my official time). I was still feeling good with relatively fresh legs and only a 2 out of 10 pain in the heel. Unbelievable. 

Michael crossed the finish shortly after, and was equally excited to have done it in under four hours. After having done 18 marathons together over the last 14 years, this was the first one where we had the same goal and both of us achieved it. Which made the whole experience even sweeter. Michael said he had also been tempted to stick to me when I overtook, but then decided not to risk anything and trust his feeling. It turned out so well for both of us, which made me think: Is running by feel an underrated concept that should be talked about more? Well, we are all different, but it surely will remain my go-to approach for now. Thank you for that lesson, Barcelona!