The Green Line

The weather forecast was terrible! We all sat at breakfast... praying it was wrong... praying the heavy rain would stay away until at least midday when most of the route would have been ran. I had opted to wear my Montane jacket, and my insanity was questioned over it by those choosing to run in shorts and a vest who deemed "race conditions to be so much different from a training run". If I was about to do a training run at home with heavy rain forecast and a wind chill factor of minus 1... I'd wear a jacket. Why change my rituals today? The jacket was staying!

We walked up to the start and I wore a big plastic sack. The race organisers had given us a green plastic mac to wear and the majority of people had it on. It was fine rain... perfect for running, and my spirits were lifted to think we would be starting the race in this sort of weather. Today was very important for me. A lot of the others were "aiming to finish", "just hoping to get round", "just ticking this marathon off the list", "not really bothered about a PB, especially in this weather", etc. I was different. This race was very important to me. I was bothered about my time, I didn't want to just get round, and the fear of another DNF this year was a huge worry, made worse by the fact that the conditions would make today very difficult anyway. I had to remember that I was not alone in my thoughts, and if I was feeling cold wet and depressed.... so was everybody else!

We got to Viale Michelangiolo (the start) and couldn't believe how miserable it looked. We had been there the day before and took some beautiful photographs of the fantastic view. Today you could see nothing but a fine grey opaque blanket that filled the sky... no landmarks... no mountains... just impending rain clouds.

We waited under the cover of a building until it was loo time and needing to get to the pens before they closed. Unfortunately, they had to be closed by 8.40 and as we waited and waited, every few minutes the rain got heavier and heavier and heavier. People stood round shivering and bobbing up and down trying to keep warm... others ran round the pen in little circles. There was no huge cheers and laughs as with other races, everybody was just downright miserable.

9 o'clock came and went. We hadn't budged! Both TV helicopters were in the sky... so what was the hold up? I'm cold.... I'm really really cold. But so is everybody else! I told myself again that everybody was feeling just as bad as me and it would all be OK.

Yes.... A surge forward at 9.20am. People pushed and shoved as we walked through each pen and down a big hill. We waited on the hill for ages and then heard a countdown in Italian and everyone around us counted the numbers too. All of a sudden the numbers stop and theres no moving forward (I didn't know this until afterwards, but the start line inflatable gantry had collapsed and needed to be put up again). Again... a countdown in Italian... again it stopped! (This time, as the numbers were counting down, a Marshall on his bike had bipped his horn, causing one of the Ethiopian elites to think it was the starting hooter and he shot off... they had to drive after him to get him to come back). Again, the countdown in Italian and now we are moving forward. It's finally time to go!

We're running down a nice incline to start and Graeme tells me to have a good race. I thank him and wish him the same, and I also know I have not seen the last of him. I tell myself not to feel disappointed as he flies past me (which I KNOW at some point he will do) looking like he's on a gentle Sunday stroll and having done no training when I've done loads. I tell myself it is in his make-up and not in mine and it will not be a reflection on how bad I'm running when he does overtake me. This is my race today, mine and only mine. Everybody else can do what they want!


The first 3 miles are fairly boring. My feet are completely numb and after half a mile I had ditched my plastic bag. This far into the race I was amazed to see a sea of green macs still being worn by everyone. I thought that was quite unusual. I'm following the "elite" green line. I figure if I do that, it won't be like London where I ended up running over 27 miles. I don't need any extra mileage... not today. I'm following a welsh bloke who is doing my pace. Perfect! I look at his 2XU tights and think they look as weathered and worn out as mine do. I look around at other runners calves and am amazed at the defined muscles in so many runners legs. Ooops.... I'm not paying attention... what pace am I doing? Little did I know (and I cursed myself when I found out later in the day) but the fourth mile was done in 7.26mm..... far far too fast!

I hear a familiar voice "Bonjourno". It's Graeme, already! I smile and tell him not to speak, I'm concentrating. He laughs and says "Is that your way of telling me to STFU?", "yes"... off he goes, and within a minute I can no longer see him. I try desperately not to feel downhearted, but I suddenly feel very tired. (If I'd known I'd just done a sub 7.30 mile, I maybe wouldn't have been so surprised, but I didn't know this at the time). Another 2 people from our hotel pass me, and I'm not able to be so frank with them and so am forced to exchange pleasantries. I'm tired... I'm really really tired and I'm feeling very down. I continue to follow the green line.

We're now going up to Parco delle Cascine. I'm dreading this part as apparently it's the most boring part of the course. At 8K I take my shot bloks and finally realise that all the shouting from the Italian runners around me have been directed at me. Damn... I have dropped my glove. I look back and can't see a thing. I'll have to cope without it. It's in the park where I see people walking back to where I've just been running. What are they doing? There's 3 or 4 of them just meandering along, almost as if they have pulled out of the race. Surely not... this early? I CAN'T drop out today! After 3 DNF's this year my confidence has took a bit of a beating, and I realise that even if today is a personal worst and I have to crawl over the line, I will make sure I finish. Things come in 3's.... not 4's!

I'm still feeling a bit down. It's time to change that! What would I do if I was at home on a training run? I'd listen to music! I take my iPod out and press play. At 10K I realise I haven't taken the ibuprofen I was supposed to take earlier (my back was aching from a lot of travelling, and although OK now, I didn't want to chance it). I then saw the most random thing ever in this weather.... a sponge station. I take a sponge and suck the water out of it for my tablets, squeezing water down my sleeve up to my elbow in the process. God, can this get any worse.

The course has a lot of left turning in it, and is forever looping back so you can see runners miles ahead of you. I've perked up now though. The weather is now a fine drizzle and I'm still making good time. I went through 10K at around 1 hour 1 minute, so it's looking good! I'm not enamoured by the course so far, it's either sharp bends or long straight boring sections. I'm sure it will get better though! After all, everyone says this course is beautiful!


At around 13-14K the rain becomes really heavy again as I'm running along the river. The wind has a bite to it, and I take my sole glove out and put it on my right hand. I'll swap it over to the other hand in a while. It's really cold and I'm soaked to the skin. My feet are soaking and I'm trying to dodge big sections of flooded road. More runners are walking towards me... some are taking their numbers off. They have no injuries that I can see. What are they doing?

I follow the green line, but I'm already way ahead of the markers. I'm sure it will catch up soon though. At the halfway mark I'm struggling with a pain (feels like it's indigestion... but in my back). I'm having to run walk to try and alleviate the pain, but it's staying there. I go through the "official" halfway mark at 2:15:05. That's my sub 4:30 out the window then. A negative split is just not going to happen today. Maybe I can try for 4:31? The Garmin tells me I've done 13.56 miles... why am I following this green line? It's clearly not measured right!

The next few miles are done in a run/walk/keep moving forward anyway you can sort of way, and I go through the 18 mile point (on the Garmin) at 3:02:30.... a minute faster than my training run 2 weeks ago. That's encouraging! Straight in front of me two people are kissing... the woman has "PAM" on her vest. They start to run and then they are walking again. Pam looks in a bad way. I continue past. The pain in my back is just awful. Have I done that to myself taking too many ibuprofen? I think I have! If the pain has gone by around 20 miles, then I have brought that little niggle on all by myself!

The road has been twisting and turning (mostly to the left) and we have passed other runners who are on a further part of the course, a number of times. It's a little disconcerting, but soon I am the one who is ahead and looking on to slower runners. I don't feel smug, I feel sorry for them as they have so much further to go in this awful weather. However, normally this far into a race... anyone that far back from me previously, has been the random fancy dress giraffe, or similar! I must be doing OK. I don't feel OK, but I must be doing OK. I now can't be bothered to follow the green line, although am not cheating as others do by cutting out huge corners and running in between cars to get a shorter route.

I see a new marker "32K". Wow, 10K to go... my least favourite distance. I look at my Garmin which now says I've done around 20.3miles. When the 20 mile sign comes, my Garmin says I've done 20.59. It makes me feel miserable. I'm now on for a 4:35 finish... if I can keep moving forward quickly. A bridge rises above me and it looks like Mount Everest... I walk up it.

The last 10K is the most exhausting experience of my life. I'm now contending with cobbles which are absolutely killing me, I'm freezing, I want to cry but can't be bothered to, the rain is just so so heavy and the wind whips around me like a freezing torrent. I can't stand it. Italian ladies by the side of the road shout "Pronto Pronto", and I can't help but think "take your bloody heels off and get on this side of the cobbles pet and we'll see if you can pronto pronto"!

I'm in a nasty mood, and when I realise we have another bridge to run over I feel like someone has just stabbed me... I thought we were nearly done. I'm looking at my Garmin and the KM markers and I can't work out where I am. How far do I have to go? I honestly can't work it out. Is a marathon 42.2KM or is it just 42 KM? Or is it just the 26 miles or is it 26.2 miles. I'm confused, I don't know what I'm doing as I trip on every uneven cobble and soak my feet even further in the sections where the cobbles are missing.

We just seem to be running in circles and I have completely lost the plot. I'm shivering and an Italian man says something to me by the side of the road. I'm sure he's telling me it's not far... but it IS! He's a liar! I'm now on for a 4:40.... time has painfully and excruciatingly slipped away and I'm running and walking and hobbling. At 25 miles on my Garmin I get a slight cramp sort of ache above my right knee (VMO area). I'm impressed, I've got all this way with no cramp which shows how well my training has gone. Just before 25.5 miles on my Garmin I get the start of feelings of cramp in my right hamstring, but it's not bad.


I ask an Italian runner (with a tone of desperation) how far we have to go. He doesn't understand. I run again. I walk and the Italian runner comes to my side and holds out his bend arm for me to grab. I smile, grateful for the support and we stagger the remaining half a mile together, unable to speak each others language. Crossing the line, we had the good old continental kissing on each cheek and I thank him for his help. I grab my medal, a space blanket and have to endure a 1.5 mile walk in the pouring freezing rain back to the hotel. I couldn't even remember a girls name who I saw running on the course (who I knew... a Fetchie named Nywanda). I was so confused I could only think to shout "Go Fetchie".

Getting back to the hotel, it seems my sentiments about the race where echoed by every other runner, experienced or otherwise. Even the elites did a positive split by 6 minutes because of the worsening weather and cobbles. One of the other runners at our hotel had been telling us how awful the cobbles were during the marathon at Rome, and even HE said here they were much worse. A lot of people got PB's, however everyone admitted that they had had a very miserable and downhearted experience. I am yet to speak to anyone who enjoyed the day or the course. People ended up running the whole way in the free green macs (So, I wasn't so insane to wear a jacket after all) and out of 10,000+ runners, only 7700 of us finished... not great statistics. It was funny hearing other runners comments about how shocked they were to see so many runners pulling out of the race. It seems the general opinion was that most people had just "had enough". I know the feeling well!

Garmin time 4:41:54, official time 4:41:56, so an official PB by 16 minutes and 2 seconds.

And would I ever go back to Florence? Not on your Nelly, however, all photographs on this blog were taken on the previous day when the weather was much nicer... and it really is a beautiful place. Maybe different weather and it would have been a completely different experience!



And I have to say.... it's a lovely medal!