Barcelona marathon 2014 race report

I stop at mile 8 to dance in front of the camera

I ran the Barcelona marathon a few days ago, on the 16th March 2014. The sun was shining, as it had been for me in both France and Spain over the last few weeks, and the temperature was already pleasant even at 8:00am in the morning as I made my way to the Plaça d'Espanya. The start was at 8:30am with staggered times: the elite men and women started together, and the masses - a field of around 18,000 runners - in their separate corrals.

The route itself is well-planned, from the start line just off the Plaça d'Espanya with its bullring and the Font Magica ("Magic Fountain") of Montjuïc, taking in Barcelona FC's Camp Nou at mile 3, the Sagrada Familia at mile 10, a 3-mile out-and-back stretch covering the halfway mark (the "out" is on a slight incline and the "back" is a lovely stroll downhill), another 3-mile out-and-back over miles 16 to 19, before turning towards the Port Olímpic at mile 21, with the bright Mediterranean on the left. The route then goes straight through the Arc de Triomf at mile 22, past the Picasso Museum at mile 24, and below Christopher Columbus high up on his column pointing out to sea at mile 25, before heading back to the Plaça d'Espanya to finish. There is a false finish line at around mile 26 on Avinguda del Paral-lel, with several inflatable arches that raised my hopes cruelly, before turning the corner onto Avenue Reina Maria Christina towards the real - and unmistakable - finish line a few hundred metres further. The ambience was superb in most places; lots of bands, dancing and spectators. Apart from a dead zone between miles 14 and 16, the crowds and atmosphere were excellent, especially in the miles that it mattered most. There were pacers for 2:45, 3:00, 3:30, 3:15, 3:30, 4:00, and 4:30.

I arrived at the start line early and spent most of my spare time repetitively queuing for the toilets. I had been wearing an old t-shirt so I didn't get cold, and just before we started I took it off and flung it ambitiously over the heads of my fellow runners towards the side of the road. It wrapped itself around the face of a man standing a few metres away, and I quickly ducked my head, pretending to be stretching, while he struggled to extricate himself. However, I caused no further incidences, and at eighteen minutes after the start gun went off my 4hr+ corral was crossing the line, to the sounds of cheers, beeping watches and Freddie Mercury belting out his operatic ode to the city of Barcelona. This song sends shivers down the back of my head, so I was pleased to start running with a good quality earworm to keep me company.

I had met some runners in a restaurant the night before who had explained to me a little about the course, and the fact that there would be a gentle incline for the first 5 miles. This was valuable information for me, because the incline was subtle enough - and the route so crowded - that I couldn't see it most of the time, and yet it was present enough to provide a drag on the legs. I suspect that if I hadn't known about it, I would have felt the drag of the incline without being able to see it, and presumed that I was struggling to run comfortably and become dispirited. But I found myself running at 10 minute/miles for the first 5 miles uphill, and then when the course flattened my pace increased to 9.30s or 9.00s - way too fast for me, I thought - it's been a long time since I ran a marathon; Dublin in October 2011 was the last atrocity - and I've always considered myself to be a 10 minute/miler, so I was trying to not go out too fast (I've done this. You only make this mistake once.). So I was constantly trying to hold myself back and run slower to conserve energy for the later miles, but I found this tough; my natural cadence brought me back to 9.30s and I felt comfortable at that. I promised myself that if I still felt good at halfway and I had held myself back enough, I'd let myself go in the second half and run at whatever pace felt comfortable.

At halfway, on an out-and-back stretch, my watch said 2:10 - I was on target for 4:20 if I ran even splits. This seemed unlikely, as in the past I have never managed to maintain my pace in the final painful miles. But I felt good, so I kept going and stopped holding back on my pace. I ran a few quicker miles - this felt like a fast course to me - no significant elevation and lots of wide, flat stretches with a few gentle declines to pick up some speed.

I had heard some very negative things about Barcelona: that in previous years the aid stations had run out of water; that the roads weren't closed to traffic so the runners had to fight with cars; that were no mile markers; just kilometres. This last point was true - I saw a 15 mile and a 20 mile mark, and I presume there was a 5 mile point as well which I missed - and if I hadn't been running with a GPS watch, the lack of individual mile markers would have made things very difficult. But I ran to my pace and my watch, and I had no problems.

As for the roads, the smaller ones were closed entirely to traffic, and the larger ones - spacious, leafy boulevards - were so wide that there was enough room for six lanes of traffic, pedestrians, spectators, cafés with large outside seating areas, and a marathon course.

There was plenty of water - as per marathon regulations there were stations every 5km - and I took water at every station; it was around 20 degrees and I would have found it very warm if I hadn't been pouring water over my shirt and my head. At around mile 18 I came across an aid station that had run out of water - although it did have Powerade - and I started panicking slightly because at the previous station, for the first time, I had neglected to take water due to having missed the last volunteer holding out the bottle, and I knew I would be in trouble if I didn't drink soon. But I spotted a solitary bottle of water abandoned on one of the tables with no lid on it, and I grabbed it, thinking, if this isn't water and someone has filled up a bottle with something unpleasant, I am unlikely to become sick before I finish the race in 80 minutes' time, so it'll be worth it. But of course it was water, and further down the road at the next station there were plenty of bottles.

Top notch medal and dryfit race t-shirt

I started to tire at mile 20, but my pace did not decrease significantly. There had never been any doubt in my mind that I would run this marathon well - I've rarely been so focussed on anything - and I knew for sure at this point that I was going to finish with a good time. My current PB was 4:27:28 in Paris 2010, and I knew I would beat that today.

As I approached the finish line, my watch told me I'd run 26.2 miles in 4:19. However, it's impossible to run exactly 26.2 miles in a marathon unless you're one of the elite athletes and you have space around you to exactly follow the designated distance line. So as I crossed the finish line, having run 26.48 miles, my watch said 4:21:31. A PB by six minutes in negative splits - something I have never even come close to doing before.

Two days on I feel good, not too sore at all; my training obviously did the job, as well as my unconsciously well-run race strategy.