The Gothenburg half marathon

I love Sweden and running so I needed no persuading when the opportunity arose whereby I could combine the two. I hadn’t raced in Sweden since the Stockholm half back in September 2012 which turned out to be one of my favourite races ever so perhaps Gothenburg could steal Stockholm’s crown?

I arrived in a rainy Gothenburg and got the bus to my hotel which was humongous. It was the official race hotel and was also playing host to the race expo where some 64,000 registered starters would be turning up over the course of Friday afternoon and Saturday morning to pick up their race numbers. In case you mistook your eyes you did read that correctly. 64,000 runners. It’s the largest half marathon in the World which is amazing. Were the streets of Gothenburg going to be wide enough to host all of the runners I thought?

I made my way into the expo for a quick dash to get my number. I was in the first start wave (just after the elites) at 1pm on Saturday afternoon. The last start wave was due to go at 4pm again demonstrating the volume of runners there were going to be on the day. It was also a very unusual affair to have the race on a Saturday (Stockholm did this too) but I was enjoying the Swedes train of thought by having the race on a Saturday allowing participants to indulge in a celebratory drink on the evening post race (and enabling one more day post drinking / running for recovery before the return to work.)

After packet pick up I was free to enjoy what the city had to offer. First point of call was lunch 

(meatballs of course) and a nice chai latte afterwards. As they say in The Sound of Music those are two of my favourite Swedish things. OK, so I changed the title a little bit but it’s almost the same.

Race day was here. It is a little odd not having to set an alarm to get up and even more so that I could enjoy a leisurely shower followed by breakfast overlooking the city from the 23^rd floor of my hotel. 

This was a very much different race preparation to 6 days earlier in Oxford. I started to make my way to the race just under two hours ahead of my start time. I never like to be rushed even though being in panic may do wonders for my adrenaline I have yet to find out. But perhaps Gothenburg was about to test that?

I went to the tram stop just outside the hotel to find there was already a mammoth queue of around 200 people. One of the information people informed me that the electricity on the line had actually just gone out so we would now need to queue for the bus. The line of people was overflowing into the main road already and it didn’t take someone from Apple Store’s Genius Bar to work out that when a bus arrived not many of us would be getting on it. I thought this could be the time either I miss my start time or get there by the skin of my teeth.

After a wait of around 40 minutes we spotted a tram arriving. After checking with Steven we could confirm it wasn’t a mirage and the electricity must be back up and running. The queue migrated across the road to the tram stop. Admittedly I couldn’t get on the first one but with them arriving every few minutes I was on one (and with a seat) in no time. As we were approaching our stop I overheard a guy say to his son that the pedestrian bridge crossing the dual carriage way was where he had to run to the finish line. That can’t be right I thought? Surely this number of runners would not make it over the narrow bridge would they? He must have meant that the road would be closed and we would cross there surely?

The start area was huge and there was media everywhere. Steven spotted that Scott Overall from GBR was on the elite start list. He has been at quite a lot of the races I have done over the years so it would be nice to see how he did today.

Similar to the race in Oxford it was pleasant to be able to strip down to my running gear and not feel cold as I entered my corral. We were then on the 10 second countdown (in Swedish of course) and the first of 64,000 then crossed the line.

I had met a few fellow runners the day before who had told me the first 5km were tough and had some hills. So as we descended into the park I was thinking that course seemed quite pleasant (albeit rather crowded with thousands of participants.) The park itself was pretty and the crowds were plentiful, many having setup picnics clearly ready to watch the race for the entire afternoon. As we started our ascent out of the park though I could really feel it. It definitely was a hill. As we made our way past the 4km mark I knew we were approaching the river and the bridge to cross it. What I hadn’t known was that the climb up to the bridge would be so severe. It was hard. There’s no other way to describe it. Even as we were on the bridge whilst it offered great views of the city and water below it still was an incline up to the middle where we would be given a little respite before the descent back down to water level. The climb had taken it out of me a bit but I was still maintaining a good pace around 6m 12s per mile. I was pleased with that. As we carried on we were taken through various dockyards that were now being regenerated. The city definitely had a very industrial vibe to it. I liked it. We passed Radio Sweden’s HQ which had a large crowd outside and some good tunes (mainly Bruno Mars who seemingly is uber popular in SE since I heard his music three times on the course) although a tour guide did warn me not to get too closed to people wo worked at Radio Sweden as they are radioactive. Boom boom.

Just after this I was approaching the 7KM marker when I recognised a face pulling up next to me. It was Scott Overall. He was limping and clearly just about to stop. I noticed him too late to say some words of encouragement but having checked his results it seems he didn’t manage to complete the race which was a real shame.

As I passed KM 11 I actually started to feel more in control and in my usual flow. Perhaps I had now recovered from the bridge which was lucky as we were about to cross back over the river via another bridge to the city. Not quite as steep as the previous one but still steep none the less. It took it out of me again and I welcomed the descent down to the city on the other side. Now with only about 4kms left to go I just kept thinking about the end. I thought I could get there in about 1h 23m or so. That’s for my total time – not a further 1h 23m!

I was pacing just behind a very Swedish looking young guy who had a t-shirt on saying “Fuck cancer” on the back. I agree with his tshirt’s sentiments and used him as a pacemaker all the way to the finish.

We were near the park where we started and I could see ahead that the route did indeed cross over the pedestrian bridge that I had dismissed on the tram ride to the start. I ate my words and then made my way up the slope to get to the top. As I entered the park it wasn’t long before I saw Steven and then I was in the small stadium for the final 150m. I crossed the line in 1h 24m on the nose. I placed 107^th which I was really pleased with (although having checked back today to ensure I was still in the same position and not been downgraded by faster people in start groups behind me I seem to have actually risen to 106^th.) Not sure what happened to that person ahead of me? Disqualification? I’ll have to find out the scandal if there was one.

So it was a tough race but a good one. I am pleased to have taken part in the largest half marathon in the World and to have finished in the top 1%.

It hasn’t knocked Stockholm out of the rankings as one of my favourite city races but none the less I enjoyed it (especially the chai lattes, biscotti and cinnamon buns post-race.)

We're off!

It looks uphill doesn't it? Vaguely!! 

My result (although now it seems I am 106th?!)

P.S. At least this didn't happen to me. Not sure I would have carried on in his situation?!

http://gawker.com/what-happened-to-the-runner-who-shit-himself-during-a-h-1681442684

The Oxford Town & Gown 10km

On the 15^th May I had my first race back since the London Marathon on the 24^th April.

Post marathon I had suffered from a nasty cough for about a week which despite my best drinking efforts over the bank holiday weekend would not entirely subside. I thought alcohol was meant to kill germs?

However; by last weekend I was feeling fit and ready to take on my next race. I’ll be honest – I was grateful it was to be a much shorter one too.

Oxford is a lovely town and the day before the race I had enjoyed the sunshine whilst wandering around the stunning colleges and eating a cream tea. After all, I’d run it off the next day right?

As I settled into my hotel room post dinner (and to watch Eurovision in bed) I realised that I hadn’t bought anything to eat for breakfast. Oops. I figured there must be somewhere along the short walk into town to get to the start where I would be able to get sustenance so I didn’t worry and went to sleep.

In the morning I found out two things. Firstly; Ukraine had been victorious at Eurovision (beating Australia who were in the lead when I went to the land of nod.) Secondly; on my way into town the only place I spotted to buy breakfast was Londis. The breakfast of champions (two bananas and a nutri grain breakfast bar) was what I had to enjoy whilst still walking to the start. This was athleticism at its best.

Having stocked up on the above mentioned food I then passed Pret serving piping hot porridge. #Devastated.

Lining up for the start I was excited and relishing being able to take off my tracksuit and wait for the start gun without shivering my tits off.

We were off. The course took us through the historic centre of town and through the parks as well. I noticed I was pacing at around 5m 40s per mile for the first mile or so which was pretty fast and a pace I knew I wouldn’t maintain. At around 4km a guy mentioned to me that he had set off too fast and I agreed with him (about myself, not him!)

We looped around where we had started and soon we went past the 6km mark. I love that point in a 10km as it means you are well and truly on the home stretch. The end finished back in the park and I crossed the line in 38m 10s placing me 64^th out of around 4,000 starters. It was by no means a PB but it was an enjoyable race and still not a shabby time.

I enjoyed another cream tea post-race. I had run the one off from yesterday and surely banked a little extra to have another today? 

Shocked that Australia are in the lead in Eurovison. How is that possible?!

Stunning Oxford:

Breakfast of champions on the go:

I'm done:

Buenos Aires: a run in the Big Apple

So it's been a long time ago but I went for a run in Buenos Aires back in January of this year.

It was on a private running tour and whilst the finer details are now probably a little wasted I wanted to share the highlights:

 - I had a private running tour with these people http://www.urbanrunningtours.com.ar/eng/index.html

 - It was thoroughly enjoyable

 - We covered around 14km across the city during the morning

 - We saw the city come to life as commuters hit the roads

 - We passed a giant flower sculpture

 - We passed some amazing street art

 - We stopped at the polo and racing track

 - We crossed the superb large boulevards in the city

 - We passed through a quiet part of town that was hard to believe was just behind the hustle and bustle of the city

 - I would recommend doing this tour if you have the chance

 - Buenos Aires is one of my favourite cities in the World.

City 23 done: Rio

So onto the last city. I couldn’t quite believe it. Taking stock of what I had achieved so far it really did feel a little surreal. Technically I had already raced in every summer Olympic city as the Games in Rio were not due to take place until August 2016 and I was heading out for my race in Rio in January of that year.

I had never been to Latin America and running in Rio gave me the perfect excuse to visit a few places that had been on my wish list since a youngster. I had a two week trip coming up which consisted of Rio, the mighty Iguassu Falls on the border of Brazil and Argentina, Buenos Aires and a short hop over to Colonia in Uruguay. I was beyond excited. It may not have seemed so as I am more of a shout about it inside kind of excitement but believe me when I say I was eager to get underway.

First stop Rio. I had a few days to explore the city before my race and a splendid few days they were. I was staying at a hotel directly on Copacabana beach. I challenge you to say the name of the beach without bursting into the Barry Manilow number. Couldn’t do it could you? Well maybe you could and that is the gay in me coming out (again.) That aside I began each morning in Rio with a run along the beach. The promenade is fantastic and full of runners, cyclists and pedestrians at all times of the day. The main road was actually closed on a Sunday so that the public could use it traffic free all the way along the beach. It was bloody marvellous and with the huge waves and amazing mountains (including the World famous Sugar Loaf Mountain) in constant view it was a real treat to be able to run this way. It was a perfect way to people watch and take in sights of very toned men (thanks for those Brazil), a large woman in a g string (no need for that Brazil) and a woman chasing her pet chicken across the road which seemed to be trying to provide an answer to the age old question of why the chicken crossed the road.

The city itself was fantastic. I visited the colourful Lapa Steps, climbed to the top of Sugar Loaf Mountain (oh ok I’ll admit I got the cable car with everyone else) and took the train up the mountain to Christ the Redeemer (where I inappropriately muttered “Jesus Christ” to myself when getting frustrated with the gift shop being overrun with tourists) which dominates the skyline and sees every man and his dog taking selfies with JC himself. I am also now one of those people. It was all splendid and sums up why this city truly is World class and deserved of Olympic status. I am not lying when I say that my mouth dropped open at some of the views I was able to take in none more so that those from one of the Favelas that I visited. One thing I will say is that this must be the only city in the World where the wealthier residents live lower down than the poorer. In the Favela I went to a bar that had what I can only describe as million dollar views. In any other city the location of the bar would be beyond premium and cost a fortune to reside in. In Rio; however it remained a piece of the Favela and thus was surrounded by crowded and small houses for those with limited means.

Enjoying a Pina Colada (which in Brazil seems to have an additional ingredient of chocolate which I am not too sure about) on the terrace of said bar I was in awe of not only the coastline and natural beauty but the organized chaos of the favela below. Due to the steep climb up the hillside there are motor cycle cabs at the bottom of the village to take people up to the top. Rumour has it that when Rihanna was in town she organized a drinks party in the same bar that I was in but had not been able to reach it as her car was ambushed with fans when they knew it was her. Allegedly she returned to the bottom, put on a crash helmet and got a motorbike cab up to the bar without anyone even batting an eye. I did not have the same problem as Rihanna and my car made it up to the top with no fans stopping. However; perhaps my status in Brazil was due to change and the story in three days’ time would be totally different?

The race I had entered was called Corrida de Sao Sebastio. I had read about it in the ultimate runs to do around the World. Runners could choose between a 5km or 10km route and it was held on Wednesday 20^th January as this was a public holiday to celebrate Sao Sebastio. Made sense. I entered the 10km race and a couple of days ahead of the race I made my way to packet pickup in downtown Rio. The journey there was easy on the metro and I found the office building I needed quick enough. One thing I had instantly loved about Rio was the abundance of phone booths around the city. They were painted a lovely yellow and green and sported the phone network “Oi” on them. The ones outside the packet pick up office were less endearing shall we say. Inside were countless stickers for call girls; however ones with a difference. Let’s just say chick with a dick and you can imagine the rest.

Packet pick up was straight forward and I was all set for the race. The start time had been moved forward to 07:30am as it had been extremely hot in the previous weeks; although ironically the weather it seemed had now turned left at the traffic lights and was somewhat cloudy and rainy (although still around mid-twenties centigrade.)

Prior to leaving London the press office from the race had contacted me to ask why I was planning to compete in the race. I can only assume this was because I was either the only or one of the very few competitors with a listed address outside of Brazil. I explained to them about my challenge (secretly hoping they would want to do some PR) and they were thrilled to hear about it and were excited to welcome me to their event as my final race of the challenge. A few days later they contacted me to say that they had arranged an interview for me with one of the largest newspapers in Brazil called O Globo. Tres exciting. I was told to meet the reporter in my hotel the Monday after I arrived. She was called Gabriella, was 30 and had fair hair. Seemed simple enough. I went for a coffee somewhere nearby so as not to be late back to the hotel and had dressed in my typical smart casual attire. Returning to the hotel on time I spotted a lady waiting in reception who was clearly over 30 so I commented to Steven that it was definitely not the person waiting for me. Just at that time the receptionist said “Mr. Long, this is Ana and she is from O Globo and is waiting for you” pointing straight at the woman who I had just rebuffed as the reporter. Oops. Turns out she wasn’t the interviewer but the photographer and was going to be doing the shoot. Crumbs, I hadn’t really thought we would be doing an official shoot as the PR team had asked for previous race photos already so I thought they would use those. Nevertheless it was going to add to the fun.

Ana was extremely nice and shortly after our introductions a guy called William arrived and said he would be doing the interview. They both commented how smart I looked but ideally wanted me to be wearing running gear for the photo they would eventually use in the paper. A quick dash up to my room and I was changed and ready to “run” so to speak. When I say quick I was indeed speedy but still did have a quick fashion show (to myself in front of the bathroom mirror) in order to see which running top I looked best in. The City 2 Surf one from Sydney was the one that called to me.

Back with Ana and William they explained to me that the interview would be on page two of the newspaper which is a column called “tell me something I don’t know.” Essentially they were unique stories (from non-famous people) to feature every day in the paper. It seemed that my challenge met the criteria. First up was the photo shoot.

Ana suggested we go to the rooftop pool of my hotel so we could do pictures overlooking Copacabana Beach. She wasn’t convinced on the location since it has a glass balcony which would not have been conducive to clear pictures. So down we went to ground level and outside the hotel where she wanted to do pictures of me in a running position in front of the stunning hotels that faced the Atlantic Ocean. Weirdly I didn’t feel self-conscious about the process of the shoot at all. As Ana lay on the pavement to get a good angle and directed me to look forward, at her, smile or not smile it felt quite natural and fun. What your back Kate Moss, there is a new basic bitch in town. After about 5 minutes Ana said that she had all she needed and we were done. She said usually it takes a lot longer than that but she was pleased with the shots. Milan fashion week here I come I thought.

Back inside the hotel William then interviewed me for about 45 minutes. He asked about the challenge, why I ran, why I thought other people ran and had I noticed the difference in cultures in the cities that I had run in. He finished with the question that marks the essence of page 2 and “tell me something I don’t know.” Well; below is the full article (translated from Portuguese) and as you can see it not only answers all his questions but has a title which I intend to now adopt every time I make a first introduction to someone.

So race day was now upon us. It was an early start to get up, shower and run to breakfast for a couple of bananas before hopping in a taxi to the start line. At this point I still didn’t know the course of the run but I knew that we would be able to see Sugar Loaf Mountain (should the mist disappear that is.) The start area was well set up and the temperature at 6:45am was already 20 degrees centigrade. It was particularly sunny but the humidity was definitely up there. There were many running club tents (all of which Steven was hoping to get a free coffee from but to no avail) and many runners who looked in good shape. I did a short warm up and joined the crowds in the starting pen. On my way there I noticed a man who looked in his 70s ready with his race number on and his timing chip tied around his ankle as he would be running barefoot. Crazy.

As we lined the start there was a man right at the front carrying a ukulele and performed a little tune whilst we watched the elite woman depart ahead of us. Totally random race etiquette but fun none the less.

Shortly after the woman had left the elite men joined the pen ahead of us. As they gathered around I thought they would be going first followed by another start of the “masses” a minute or so after. However; as the horn went the elite men were off and so it seemed were we. I was caught totally by surprise and was pulled along with the crowds across the start line. We were off!

The roads we were on were very wide so I didn’t get caught between many people as can sometimes be the case and within a few minutes I was in my own rhythm. Ahead of me I could see the 1`km mark. Surely no? As I passed it I glanced at my watch to notice I had done the first kilometer in 3m 21s. Pretty fast. Way to fast in fact to maintain in these weather conditions. I carried on just enjoying the fact that we were running along the coast. Beautiful even though the mist was blocking some of the view. As we reached around 2.5km we passed an amazing monument (to this day I don’t know what it was) and circled back on ourselves back towards the start. It was hot and I was uber sweaty. As we reached the 5km mark the road was divided into two (the left for those in the 5km race and the right for the 10km racers.) For the first time in my running career I had a small thought that I wished I were doing the shorter distance. I had no choice though, man up and carry on. The next few kilometers took us past Sugar Loaf Mountain (or Sugar Tits as Steven had come to affectionately refer to it as) and up to a superb swimming pool which marked our second turning point. The stretch back to the finish was tough I am not going to lie. The heat was something I was not used to and the water stops couldn’t come soon enough (entirely to pour on my head rather than drink you understand.)

My initial pace had as expected not been sustained I was averaging a 4 minute kilometer now which I was fine with. I wasn’t aiming for a PB. The 9km marker passed me on my left and I was on the home stretch. The finish line look gorgeous as I saw it up ahead. The 5km racers re-joined us on the left to cross the finish line and over the line I went. 38m 11s which was just outside the 38m target I had wanted to beat (from about the halfway point.) I placed 35^th which I was still pleased with given that the majority of finishers ahead of me were elite.

So that was that. My challenge was done. How did I feel? Weird is all I can say. I didn’t cry (yet) or laugh. I did; however enjoy the watermelon and bananas they gave me (along with my final medal) at the finish. I did my finish photos by the sea and in the taxi back to the hotel reflected on what I had achieved. I was silently happy.

Before leaving for the race in the morning I had posted on Facebook that only 10km stood in between me finishing my Olympic Challenge. As I logged on when I got back to the room I had hundreds of likes and numerous comments congratulating me already and saying I was an inspiration to my friends. I was really touched. As I said I hadn’t cried yet but then I read one final comment. My friend congratulated me and said that wherever my parents were (having both passed away) they would be looking down on me bursting with pride. I couldn’t hold it in a shed a few tears. I really do hope I have made them proud.

So there; I did cry at the end of the challenge which I guess I should have really shouldn’t I? I showered and made it back down to the breakfast room in the hotel in time for a late sitting. Bonus. They had champagne on the table so it was nice for Steven and I to raise a toast to what I had done.

That afternoon we flew down to the Iguassu Falls to enjoy a few days in the National Park which was beyond spectacular. I can honestly say I have never seen anything like the falls before, especially when we took a speedboat to the foot of the falls. It is one of the most alive moments I have ever felt.

All too soon my time in Brazil had come to an end but I still had a week of holidays to look forward to as I went to Argentina and Uruguay. An amazing trip to say the least.

Leaving Brazil I felt content and I was really looking forward to being able to watch the Olympics in a city I had just been to in a mere 7 months’ time.

So that was it. I was done.

Photo shoot on Copacabana Beach:

DONE!

I am way behind on blogging! A quick catch up on Norwich and Liverpool

So I am way behind on my blogs so here is a brief overview of the past two months:

November:

 - I entered the Norwich half marathon

 - I hurt my leg a week before the race so was nervous about how it would hold up

 - It snowed the night before the race. Beautiful but chilly!

 - The race was outside the city in the rural areas around Norwich

 - It was so cold when I parked up before the race I had to stay in the car for 30 minutes

 - I bought emergency gloves at the start pen

 - The course was stunning and the weather was dry (albeit) cold

 - My leg felt a little tight but no where near as painful as it had done the week before

 - The last mile was tough (as it was a circle around the showground back to where we started)

 - I crossed the line in 52nd place out of 23,335 in a time of 1 hour 23 minutes 6 seconds

 - I was pleased with that

 - I celebrated (prematurely the night before) and post race with some of my parents friends from our
    time in Greece. A nostalgic and lovely time was had by all. Loved it.

Finish line:

The last mile (waving in emergency gloves)

Post celebrations with Mary and Neville:

December:

 - The annual Santa Dash in Liverpool

 - Red vs Blue Santas for the Liverpool V Everton fans

 - I wore red again

 - My sister wore blue again

 - My niece wore a red suit and a blue hat. She knows how to please us both!

 - I pushed Jessica in the buggy. She thought we as a group were too slow at times!

 - It was super fun

 - I love the city

 - I love my family who run with my (and those supporting on the sidelines)

 - We had a brilliant get together afterwards where I ate too many bacon sandwiches (or butties if I
    am to be properly Scouse) and cake

 - My phone broke from the rain during the run

 - I missed my train back to London (luckily the last one was only an hour later)

 - It is one of my favourite days of the year and I cannot wait for 2016 already

Ready (although Jessica said I looked like nobody when I asked who I resembled?!)

Let's dash!

Little niece!

City 22 done: Mexico City

So it really was becoming true that I am nearing the end of this challenge. Only two cities left to go. Yikes.

After an amazing couple of weeks in the US (with a renewed playlist featuring a lot of Elvis, Dolly Parton and other country music) I was bound for Mexico. I had only ever been to the country for the day before so I was excited to be seeing more of it. That sounds rather decadent saying I had only been for the day but it’s not as uncommon as it sounds. I was once staying in San Diego and decided to hop south of the border for the day to visit nearby Tijuana. A great trip with the best Mexican food I had ever tasted and possibly the busiest border crossing back into the US that I have ever seen. This time immigration was not as crowded and I exited the airport to the tropical heat of Cancun (and a Margaritaville cocktail stand in the car park.)

Resisting the temptation for an early Margarita I made my way to the hotel and awaited Laura’s arrival from London. The hotel was set right upon the beach and our balcony looked right out over the ocean. It was a perfect view. This is perhaps why it was dubbed a “romantic” room which would regretfully be wasted (in that sense) on two friends sharing.

Cancun was a perfect place to relax. The beach is stunning and each morning (or sometimes evening) I would run for 40 minutes barefoot along the shore. It certainly beat the treadmills of the past few weeks. We enjoyed day trips to the amazing Chichen Itza and Tulum and of course took advantage of the poolside bar by the pool. We then left the beach and spent a couple of nights in the jungle which was splendid. Complete silence and time just to completely relax (and get bitten to shit by the local mosquitoes.)

So then it was on to Mexico City. Flying in was spectacular. The city did indeed look absolutely massive and thus I was expecting it to live up to the “crazy busy” reputation it seems to hold. The airport was calm and worked as you would expect. Immigration the same. Our airport transfer was ready and waiting for us as anticipated. Were we in the right place? I will admit the traffic on the way to our hotel was busy but no worse than that I have experienced in London. I think Mexico City gets a bad rep as a busy and dangerous city and here is where I will start to tell you how different my experience of this wonderful city was.

We were staying in La Rosa area which is just off the main avenue Reforma. Great architecture along the avenue and I swear I didn’t know that this was the gay area of town when I booked my hotel. There were some lively bars and trendy shops on our street (as any self-respecting gay area would) and it now meant that when I returned to treadmill training in the gym I could play my Kylie playlist loud and proud on the music system. Not that I wouldn’t normally be proud of this playlist, merely just that it would almost be expected in this part of town.

Over the coming days we enjoyed great museums (the anthropology museum is one of the best I have been to), excellent food (the best seared tuna I have ever had), a stunning old town and main square, an afternoon in the house of the incredibly talented Frida Khalo as well as history in the form of more pyramids in the city of Teotihuacan on the outskirts of the city. We enjoyed a meal with a local family and found the hospitality of the Mexican people beyond friendly. We felt safe in the city and became experts at the metro system. This city should be on everyone’s “to do” list and I promise you won’t regret it.

But onto the running piece. What race was I going to do? There wasn’t an official race happening when I was in the city and whilst my Kylie gym sessions were a fun way to start the day I don’t think it could count as an Olympic run do you? So I had researched for local running clubs again and come across the Hash House Harriers. I had heard of the club way back when I was a child living in Greece but I had never run with them before. Their website describes themselves as a “drinking club with a running problem” which had me sold. I was in. I dropped them and email and shortly afterwards Mario (the leader of the Mexico City group) responded (from his email address which was Mario the Frog) saying he would love to host me and we could do a bespoke run on the Sunday I was in town. He asked for details of what I wanted to do so that he could put it up on their website both in English and Spanish. Lovely guy.

It was going to be the Day of the Dead celebrations that weekend I was in Mexico City so I had said that if we could run somewhere to take in the atmosphere that would be great. True to his word he put the description of what I wanted to do on his site and confirmed that we would be doing a 10km run together that day. What I wasn’t sure of was what he meant by we. Was that me and him or would others be involved as well? Only time would tell.

So as the Sunday drew nearer I emailed Mario to check we were still on and where we should meet. He gave me the address of the club’s headquarters and said that I should be there at 11:30. I misread this as 10:30 so I arrived 1 hour early. Bet early than late I suppose. He also said to just bring myself as well as a gift in the form of alcohol. I bought a bottle of wine and had it in my rucksack wondering whether I was going to have to run with it for the entire 10km or whether he would take it off my hands before we left. Fortunately it turned out to be the latter otherwise that would have been a heavy and clinking load to carry. Mario let me into the huge house and took me up to a really splendid roof garden. The sun was shining and so we sat down to enjoy a nice coffee. A couple of things I noticed about his décor was that there were frog ornaments everywhere (the email address made sense now) and that there were two small skeletons hanging in the center of the garden which he said represented his Mum and Dad who were no longer with us. As I would find out over the next 24 hours the Mexicans really do have a different way to celebrate the dead and to remember them by. I thought this was a nice gesture.

Mario was 65 and as well as running the Hash House Harriers he had once been the head of security for the US embassy in Mexico City. The walls inside the house were covered with photos and letters from US presidents and other members of Government thanking him for his hospitality during their visits to his city. Since retiring he then also rented out his spare rooms in the house to women who were in need of short term accommodation and were looking for a safe place on a budget. Topping off his interesting career his numerous stories similar to the “I was once in a relationship with the Finnish ambassador” one he was indeed quite a character.

As he prepared things for our run later that day one of the women who lived in the house (Lupita) sat with me to talk about her studies and her passion for art. Until I arrived she had been painting in the roof garden and the result (to date) was something I would have had happily on my walls at home. A talented girl. Unfortunately she wouldn’t be joining us on the run as she had dropped a glass on her foot a few days before thus she wasn’t able to put weight on her foot but she said she would join us in town later on for some food.

So far then there was just Mario and I running. Would there be others? Shortly before 11:30 a group of three arrived. Our group was growing! The group was a father (Fidel) and his son and daughter who were 20 and 18 respectively. They were all very friendly and we managed to communicate with my broken Spanish and their basic knowledge of English. Sign language does always come in handy as we all know. Then bang on 11:30 came another two people. Ricco and Cay. Our group was now complete.

We all sat in the garden and Mario formally introduced himself and described the route we would be taking. We would take the metro to the north of the city where we would walk for about 20 minutes to a park. Then we would jog up to a cemetery where we could see people celebrating Day of the Dead before jogging back down the hill into the city to then catch the metro to the city center to meet Lupita (as well as her mother and younger sister) for some late lunch. Sounded awesome to me. He then asked us to introduce ourselves. The introductions were as you would expect (I’m Michael and I’m from London) but as I said it both Ricco and Cay said in unison “So you’re just Michael.” This puzzled me and had me thinking that perhaps I should have been more formal and said Michael Long? Oh well, the moment had now passed. However; then it was their turn to introduce themselves. Here is what they said:

I’m Ricco “two inches in Ladyboy” and I’m Cay “Dr yoga sew UR sak” and we usually run with the Baghdad Hash House Harriers. Two questions arose from me. Firstly; there was a running club in Baghdad and secondly what did those nicknames mean? 

And so they told me.

They were working in the army and had both been based in Iraq for the last three years where they had met at the running club and since got married. They had transferred to Mexico City only that week so they were newbies to the city. The names apparently are given to you once you are a fully-fledged member of any Hash House Harriers. The naming ceremony can vary but in Iraq it transpired that they sat you on a block of ice blind folded and asked you personal questions until they had enough information to give you a “Hash name.” Until that time you were known as “just” and your name hence why I was “just Michael” to them. Made sense to me but given what you had to go through to get your hash name I was quite happy to stick with just for now. It worked for Jack in Will & Grace so it was good enough for me.

So off we set. Mario knew the city well and during our first walk he pointed out some interesting buildings and a monument that was on a site where a light aircraft crashed onto a busy market and killed various people. We then started jogging. It was very light going but that was fine. It was nice for us to stay as a group. As we reached a pedestrian flyover he told us we could run quickly up it. I took his word and did so and about half way up felt light headed. This was the first (and admittedly only) time that I felt I was at altitude.

We then arrived at the graveyard. It was busy. Not busy with quiet mourners but busy with food and flower sellers and hundreds of people who had come to celebrate the dead. As we jogged through the cemetery there were families sat having picnics at their family graves. They had balloons, drinks, music and were enjoying each other’s company as they sat around presumably remembering those they had lost. It was poignant but lovely to see people remembering others in such a fond way. Ordinarily cemeteries are a place for peaceful reflection but not today or in Mexico it seemed. 

We passed many children’s graves which had parents gathered around hosting what would have looked like a birthday party had it not been for the obvious setting. We saw a grave to mark the forty thousand people who were killed in the earthquake of 1985. Mario (who also lost his home in the earthquake) said that the Government only acknowledge that four thousand people perished in the quake for reasons I am not sure why. I am not sure why releasing the actual number of people killed would weaken Mexico’s image Worldwide; however since researching the quake since my trip it does seem the lower number is what is reported.

We were then serenaded by an elderly gentleman with some local mariachi music just before making our way out of the cemetery. It was an experience like no other and was the beginning of how I would change looking at death.

We then continued our gentle jog down the hills through some very exclusive areas of the city. The houses were enormous with plenty of expensive cars parked out the front. This part of town could easily be confused with Beverly Hills if I were to show you just a picture of it. Mario (of course) had attended diplomatic parties in many of the houses and said that each house would have a huge security team looking after them. This was the first time since being in the city I had even a hint that there was any more danger than in any other Global capital but again contrary to popular belief I didn’t feel any danger myself.

Running through these forests was really peaceful and totally different to what I had expected of my Mexico City run. Mario, Fidel and I were up the front of the group and despite Cay and Ricco having aired worries of the group not being fast enough at the beginning of the jog they had fallen behind and were at the tail with Fidel’s children. Ironic that those that were out for a quick sprint and the youngest of the group were at the back or as Mario put it “Fidel was a front running bastard.” All in good jest you understand.

So as we neared the old part of the city we reached the crowds who by now were all donning the traditional face paints of the Day of the Dead celebrations. It was a fantastic atmosphere and we met Lupita and her family in a local restaurant where Mario had told me that as long as you order a drink then the food was free. I figured this sentence was being lost in translation but true to his word again when the bill came I indeed was only paying for a couple of beers and the three courses I had been brought were indeed free. No wonder this was his favourite place to replenish the burned calories post Sunday runs. Mario washed down his dinner with straight tequila which he said his doctor had told him would be good for his cholesterol levels. Not sure if that's true or whether Mario just has the same doctor as Patsy from Ab Fab?

From talking to Ricco and Cay this was very different to the normal Hash House Harrier run in that it was a lot slower than usual and there was far less drinking than they were used to but none the less I still enjoyed it and I hope it stays that way whilst Mario runs the group.

So there was no timing and no official distance in this jog across the city but it was indeed a fun one and it holds a dear place in my heart. After I left the group I experienced the nighttime version of Day of the Dead in an equally and lively cemetery in the south of the city for which I am unable to describe how it felt. All I can say is that it has altered the way I would like to celebrate my parents’ lives which I will do on the 1^st November every year from now on.

Thanks Mexico City for offering me more than just a run. One day I will return I promise.

P.S. For those interested in the meaning of Ricco and Cay’s Hash names here you go. “Two inches in Ladyboy” is apparently when Ricco had to defend a ladyboy with a two inch long knife against a drunk. I have a feeling the truth would reveal a different story don’t you? And “Dr yoga sew UR sak” is because Cay is a doctor who likes yoga who once conducted an operation on a man’s leg whose sack was so large it became and obstruction and the only way for her to complete the operation was to sew his sack against his own leg. Nice. So there you have it. I still think I will stick with Just Michael.

Flowers in the graveyard:

My Day of the Dead make up (post run I should say!)

Serenaded in the graveyard: 

Running in the park:

Me and a slightly different flag photo to usual at the end!

City 21 done: St. Louis

I landed in Las Vegas for a week long work conference in December 2011 to find out that the following day was the Rock n Roll Las Vegas half marathon. I was gutted because had I known it was taking place I definitely would have entered. In hindsight it was a good thing I was not running the next day as that evening turned into a rather impromptu evening of shots, dancing and general death by mini bar which is no way to prepare for a race. 

However; the following year I returned to Las Vegas for the weekend primarily to run the race. The night before was still a late one (as they always are in Vegas) but was much more civilized in the form of seeing a Cirque du Soleil show followed by a late dinner and ice cream. The Rock n Roll Vegas run is actually a night time run and goes up and down the strip. It’s a fantastic route allowing you to take in the bright lights of the strip as well as the downtown area. Many bands line the route hence the rock n roll title the event affords. It was a great race to be in and I finished it in 1 hour 31 minutes 35 seconds which is not bad given I had flown there all the way from London for only 2 nights to take part! I would love to return to this event as they now have an option for you to do a “run thru wedding” where you can marry a fellow competitor along the way. Sounds great to me. Any takers? No? Ok, let’s move on.

After this I then began to see Rock n Roll runs pop up all over the place and I then ran one the inaugural ones in Edinburgh (in 1 hour 27 minutes) and Liverpool (1 hour 21 minutes 1 second) which were also great events (although no wedding option included) and the medals are some of the best race bling you will ever get.

So I wanted to compete in a Rock n Roll race as part of my Olympic challenge. Enter St. Louis.

After the road trip which took in Atlanta from the chapter before I then made my way to St. Louis for a couple of days for the half marathon. I didn’t really know much about the city apart from the fact it had an impressive monumental arch (630 feet tall for those interested) and featured in the Judy Garland musical movie Meet Me in St. Louis. I landed and headed straight for race registration. It was a simple process and got me excited for the race. I checked into my hotel and then made my way down to the Mississippi river to see both the arch and go on an old fashioned boat (called Tom Sawyer no less.)

The city was much more urban than I thought it would be. By that I mean that the factories and old buildings that lined the streets and the river gave it a very raw feel. I liked it. It made for some excellent pictures particularly in black and white.

The night before the event was actually a bit of a strange one for me. As a very seasoned traveler I rarely have experienced homesickness but all I can think of is that this is what I had. I guess going from two weeks on the road with the boyfriend to then being on your own (also in the lead up to the first anniversary of the passing of your Mum) is possibly conducive to suddenly feeling a little deflated. I had a quick word with myself and ordered room service to carb up and enjoyed a couple of classic movies from bed in what was a lovely hotel room.

I awoke at 5am feeling refreshed and ready to race. The night before I had bought a single bowl of porridge which you add water to for my breakfast and some bananas. This did not turn out to be the breakfast of champions that I had envisaged. Sadly the pot ended up being a rather water logged wheat bowl mess but I did still eat it. Needs must on a race day. I left my hotel room to discover a clearly intoxicated woman asleep against the ice machine in the hallway. I asked her if she was ok and she said yes. Did she not realize she probably would be more comfortable in her actual room? Before leaving the hotel I let the receptionist know that there was a woman asleep in the corridor of floor 8. Before I finished my sentence he said he knew about the lady on floor 10. Oh dear. I wonder was it the same woman who had moved or were there two of them? I’ll have to live never knowing the truth. I am sure that is pretty doable.

I then made my way through the chilly dark morning (or should that be night) to the start line. I had paid for entrance into the VIP area which had promised our own bag drop, immediate access to the start pens, sustenance before the race, sustenance post-race, massage and our own set of toilets. I was easily sold on this and only wish it were a service offered by all races. I would sign up every time. It was freezing but I could stand in one of our tents to shelter slightly. I then realized that they were actually serving really nice porridge (or oatmeal as it is known stateside.)

#devastated.

If I had realized that I wouldn’t have filled up on gruel before arriving. Oh well, time to get on with the rest of my usual race prep. About ten minutes before heading to the start line I thought I would take my usual pre-race pee break. I made my way to our VIP toilets. No queue. Completely clean. This made a lovely change. It was still dark though and with no lighting in the cubicles it would make for an interesting aim. Feeling resourceful I turned to the torch on my phone. Marvelous. Although as I aimed the torch in the necessary direction to ensure a good shot at the urinal I realized that if the walls were transparent it would look like I was taking a dick pic. As the urine left my body I could see the steam rising in the light of the torch. It was definitely cold then and not the ideal temperature to take a flattering dick pic. Of course not that I was considering it you understand?

We then lined up in our corrals. We faced towards the arch just as the sun was beginning to break over the top. It looked stunning. I always forget that each race in the US starts with the National Anthem. As it was sung by a local singer all the athletes around me stood with their hand on their hearts (not in the Kylie Minogue fashion sadly.) I realized it sort of looked like I was joining in as I had my hands under my armpits to keep warm. Perhaps I just looked like I had gotten it slightly wrong like when George Bush Junior once stood with his hand on his stomach (Google image it.)

Almost time for the off then. Just one last moment for the official videographer to ask four of us to look at him and shout “Here we go. St. Louis rocks!” We did it and for some reason I adopted an American accent. Why? I have no idea. Perhaps because shouting that something “rocks” in an English accent just doesn’t quite sound right?

Across the line we went. I seemed to be in third position. This can’t be right I thought? That’s because it wasn’t. Soon enough there were people passing me. I wasn’t put out by this as I was intent on enjoying the race and seeing the city. Above all I wanted to warm up.

As I mentioned the city has a real urban feel and I really liked this. There are not the high sky scrapers that you get in other US cities (because nothing can be higher than the arch) and it really reminded me of how I viewed the US when I was really young based off 80s movies. We passed some fantastic old fashioned theatres and then into an area called The Grove. It boasted fantastic street art, rainbow pedestrian crossings and some unique looking shops. I made a note to myself of the street names in order to come back and have a wander the next day as it looked really quirky.

I was slightly warmer at this point but my thumbs were still pretty chilly despite running with them tucked into my clenched fists. As we rounded another corner I was hit with the sun. It felt gorgeous on my skin and had me thinking that this was going to be the point I would cease resembling Olaf from Frozen. The long stretch ahead was uphill and into the direct sunlight but I didn’t care that I couldn’t see where I was going. I felt warm. Plus; maybe it was a blessing not knowing how much longer the hill would go on for? A mile or so later I summited the hill and was back into more shady (in terms of temperature) areas. We passed through a beautiful park, amazing houses and soon were on the home stretch back to the CBD. Not before we passed a big sign which said “WTF…where’s the finish line?” It made me smile.

We were running along huge empty boulevards and being close to the front of the pack it almost felt like I had the city to myself. Around one last corner and I could see the magnificent arch again. I crossed the line in 1 hour 24 minutes 2 seconds. By no means a personal best but I was happy to have completed my 21^st Olympic city run and it turned out I still placed 25^th overall which was great.

I was still chilly (and sweat free which shows how cold it was) so made my way back to the VIP tent for a massage, lovely food, a pee in a clean portaloo (this time without the use of a torch) but I did sneak a quick dick pic in. I’m kidding. 

As I put on my tracksuit (words I never like to say) one spectator said “I am cold just looking at you, would you like to borrow some of my body fat?” A kind offer I thought but still politely declined.

Back at the hotel I had a lovely warm shower and returned to a healthy pink colour. That evening I made my way to happy hour at the hotel bar and enjoyed drinks and a pizza with other guests. I retired to bed fairly early once the hotel had given me a cookie and warm milk post dinner. I had been up at 5am after all.

So there you have it. City number 21 completed. Judy Garland’s ghost didn’t come to meet me but I still had a great time in the city and I still love Rock n Roll races. Bring on the next one. Maybe Lisbon?

Getting ready the night before:

Is it still night time?!

Done:

I saw this later that day. Appropriate given the temperature at 7am:

City 20 done: Atlanta

When the decision was being made as to where to hold the 1996 summer Olympic Games it should have been clear. It was to be the centenary of the modern Olympic Games and in my opinion they should have been awarded to Athens where the Games begun. Athens had bid to host the Games in ’96 and living there at the time (albeit as a youngster) I still was very much in full support of the bid and used to often wear my bid support t-shirt.

Somehow my t-shirt attire seemed to evade the attention of the IOC and the Games were awarded to Atlanta. I was gutted.

Nonetheless I still supported the Games in Atlanta and watched them when they were on. The biggest memories of the Games include Michael Johnson and his odd looking running style, the bomb, Michelle the Irish swimmer who came out of nowhere and won lots of Gold (since taken back due to doping) and Gloria Estefan singing the official song Reach. What a tune.

So as I started to plan when I could do a run in Atlanta it dawned on me that 3 out of the 4 cities I had left to run in (Atlanta, St. Louis, Mexico City and Rio) were located in North America. What about doing one trip taking them all in rather than flying across the pond numerous times? Coincidentally I was nearing the my 10^th anniversary of working at Expedia Inc. and made the bullish move of asking my manager to give me one month off work to celebrate this fact. They agreed. In fact she commented saying that she thought I was going to ask for three to six months off. Oops. Nevermind, I still got the result I wanted. The planning began. I found a half marathon in St. Louis during the month I had off and snapped up my place quickly. For Atlanta and Mexico City I was going to have to be creative with the events I did as I couldn’t find any official ones that would fit in with the dates. No matter; I had done that before and could do it again. So here was the plan for the month. First, a road trip across the US:

Dallas

Austin

New Orleans

Memphis

Nashville

Pigeon Forge (Dollywood if I’m honest)

Atlanta

St. Louis

Then, a couple of weeks in sunny Mexico:

Cancun

Mexico City

Quite a trip. All of the cities did not disappoint and despite the initial shock of how much fried food there was on offer in the south of the US I manage to stay in shape with the help of hotel treadmills. Having said that a few days in to the trip my foot started to be a little sore. Was it the treadmill running? Was it the walking around cities sightseeing all day? I am not sure to be honest but the remedy would be a few days off training. Ask any runner and this is an unnatural state of affairs. No matter how much I know that rest is sometimes is required it still pains me (more than the sore foot) to take time out of my training schedule. However; I was very good and did so. The result; my foot was fine and would allow me to keep running in Atlanta.

For my run in Atlanta I had researched city running tours like the one I had done in Rome. Bingo. There was one available and the lady that ran them (pun intended) said I just needed to contact her shortly before travelling and we could do a 10km tour around the city together.

So three weeks before setting off on my trip I emailed her to see if the deal still stood. An immediate response confirmed she would have loved to but she was now heavily pregnant and therefore wasn’t doing any tours. Yikes. What to do? She kindly put in me touch with a local running specialist shop called Big Peach Running Tours and they did weekly runs that anybody could turn up to and join in for free. Excellent – I was back on track. After a short email conversation with them it turned out that the night I planned to arrive in Atlanta they were due to do a 6 mile run around the city and I was more than welcome to join.

I was confused by the running shop’s name but it transpires (after a quick Google) that the state of Georgia is known as the peach state due to the importance of the peach business to its economy. Who knew?

On arrival in Atlanta I had time for a quick shower, change and then it was off to find the shop for my evening run. Once I got there the man in charge (Dave) was super friendly and took me under his wing. He asked what pace I would like to run at and introduced me to an equally friendly chap called Nick who would be running at the same pace. Brilliant – I could stick with him and not worry about getting lost. Dave gave me a map and directions for the run but since I had only been in the city a couple of hours my navigation knowledge consisted of the hotel and the running shop which were on the same (albeit long) street so my confidence of leading the run was not high.

Dave then welcomed the group and introduced me to the others as Mike from London. Cardinal sin calling me Mike. Perhaps my face said it all as he quickly corrected himself and then introduced Michael from London. Cue a high five from the lady next to me. I love America.

So we set out into the city. The route took us through the suburbs and parks on the outskirts of Downtown where we had begun. The park and the houses that we passed were magnificent. We ran through the gay district where a couple of the pedestrian crossings had been painted in rainbow colours which I loved and even passed a few churches that were displaying the pride flag in aid of pride which was taking place in the city later in the month. Very welcoming of the churches to do so. As we looped back to return to the CBD the view was fantastic. As dusk was upon us the silhouettes of the skyscrapers lining the horizon was a brilliant sight to see and I wished I had got better photos of it. Nick (and another gentlemen called Larry) were going at a good pace (and leading the pack) but it did mean the photo opportunity stops were nonexistent. I managed to get a few of the city and also a very shaky one of the two of them just ahead of me as I thought I would be good to remember the view I had of them leading me through the city. What I didn’t count on was that at that moment of taking the photo I almost trod on a cat that had been the victim of a hit and run. Fortunately I didn’t have to take the role of the guy who trod on the dead cat when we got back to the store. Nobody wants to be him do they?

As we neared the last mile Nick and I were slightly ahead of Larry and I heard him say something but couldn’t make out what. A few seconds later Nick shouted “see you later Larry” as he had turned off to make his way straight home. I felt terrible as he probably thought I was incredibly rude not saying anything before he turned the corner but the moment (and he) was now gone. If you ever read this Larry thanks for leading me around the city and bye!

Atlanta had been quite hilly and the evening was quite humid whilst running so the water and refreshments at the shop when we got back there were welcome. Everyone hung out (as they Americans say) for a little while although I was too embarrassed to ask them to take a picture of me with my American flag for the blog and book. A selfie in their bathroom would have to do. I asked Nick where would be good to go for dinner and some drinks that evening. His response shocked me. “I’m not 21 yet so I can’t go into bars yet but I hear there are good ones on this street.” OMFG. That means he was only 1 when the Olympics took place in the city.  

That aside his advice rung true and I found some very nice places to eat and drink (because I am firmly over the age of 21) that night to celebrate.

Atlanta had a nice park downtown to celebrate the Olympics; however there were a lot of Olympic artifacts in the World of Coca Cola museum. Coke have been a sponsor of the Olympics since 1928 (the Amsterdam Games) so there were a lot of pins, pictures in the museum which was a fun addition to my weekend in the city.

So it wasn’t a difficult or even timed run in Atlanta but it still counts as my Atlanta chapter I think.

Thanks Big Peach for ensuring I had a run to do and for not getting pregnant!

Ready to go in the hotel room:

The city on our run:

Big Peach Running Store:

Done...stay strong & stay positive:

Nick and Larry (and a dead cat) in front of me:

The Olympic flame from the Atlanta Games in the Coca Cola museum:

Memorabilia in the Coke museum: