Post by raymatthews on Nov 12, 2011 9:47:30 GMT -5
;)Why do the Venice marathon? Good question,
I suppose the answer mostly lies in the history and culture of this small, but historically influential island which rises from the venation lagoon and which is partially protected from the open seas by the islands of Lido, and Palestrina, Making this marathon a special one to do before much longer.
Venice, steeped in history, and together with the exploits of Marco Polo, who was one of the most outstanding influences around the 13th century, has always held an interest to me. The City is made up of a series of” Campi” the typical Venetian squares, creating 118 little islands, all interlinked by 354 bridges over narrow canals. Almost every church/house/and building is unique, and is of great architectural interest.
Traveling around Venice is wholly by foot or boat of some description, with of course the famous gondola dating back centuries, and more recently the water buses, which makes frequent stops around the Venice
The marathon day started for me with a 5am rise and eating a specially put on breakfast, to cater for me, and the other nine Italian athletes in the hotel. Leaving the warmth of our hotel just outside Arsenale, we boarded the water bus to take us up the Grand Canal to Piazzale Roma and the water bus terminal, picking up athletes along the way. By the time we reached the end of the line the boat was packed with runners. Venice is a cold place at this time of year and the travel up the Grand Canal was a very cool affair with the wind whipping into the river buses open doors.
Leaving the water bus at Piazzale Roma, our next target is the bus station, and the land buses that will take us up to the start area, some twenty mile inland in Italy. Queuing for these buses, along with hundreds of athletes from around the globe, reminded me of a sort of Mini New York marathon, and the queue of thousands of runners all boarding busses to be taken too, and dumped on Staton Island prior to the race.
We finally arrived at the starting area, some two hours later. I managed to get settled into a large tented area to prepare for the race and take advantage of free warm drinks. By this time the light was just about coming over the walled area of a massive old house, which looked like it had been converted into a museum on the outskirts of a village.
9 am and time to leave the warmth of the benched changing tent, Walking at last towards the starting area, where I managed to hand in my baggage at the waiting articulated lorries that will take our clothes etc to the finish, without having to queue too long. It’s now just after nine oclock and time to make my way down to the start area. I continued walking towards my penned area on the now closed off road together with a group of athletes I had met, and had struck up a conversation with a French athlete who spoke great English. I have a theory, “wouldn’t it be better if everyone in the world, spoke English”, only kidding, that’s the great part of these foreign races, the challenges, and great fun making yourself understood.
My timed pen area, No 5 was towards the back of the line. I said my farewell to my French colleague, who was entering into the second waiting area and obviously a good runner at a less than three hour pen. I must have walked for a good five minutes before reaching and entering my own designated start pen. The race was due to start at 9.29.
Like most of these races, and long after the race has started, the runners towards the back don’t even move for a good few minutes, but eventually we are on the move, walking to start with, then at last into a trot, and then just before reaching the start line some nine minutes later, activating my watch as I cross over the start line. We are into steady running, and setting up the pace that will hopefully take me through to the finish.
The sun has just risen above the trees and casting a silhouette of bright running gear along the river, which will be with us for a good fifteen miles. Its now time to concentrate and not get caught up in any other athletes pace, as my plan is to finish just inside five hours, maintaining my own pace is the key to achieving my goal.
Mile after Mile the winding snake of colorfully clad athletes are all keeping up the relentless pounding on the tarmac road in front of me, and The mental timing clock is working, clipping target times at each mile and kilometer board, heading for the finish. As the half marathon sign is reached, looking at my watch I am bang on target at two hours twenty five minutes, and feeling pretty good, anticipating I will shortly be reaching Parco San Giulliano, knowing that the five kilometer long bridge, leading into Venice, is not too far away, and my next target at about thirty two kilometers.
Heading across this never ending bridge, the link between the mainland of Italy and Venice towards, is a soul destroying straight long road, with a middle that never seems to come, I realize that my pace has dropped, and I need to dig in, but I am running out of energy, and time is disappearing fast. I am unable to maintain the pace, and come to terms with the fact that a week ago I had done a fifty mile race, The Rowbotham Round Rotherham, and no amount of pushing was going to see me achieve my target now.
It’s decided; enjoy the rest of the run into Venice, and get as close as is reasonably comfortable to the five hours. In the last five kilometers, the runners have to account for thirteen bridges as we head into Venice. These bridges would normally represent an area of a full obstacle course, but the organizers have created wooden ramps for the runners to cross over, certainly easier to negotiate, but very bouncy and strange to run over with fatigued legs. The link from the mainland into Venice has been made by a sort of Bailey Bridge, which crosses over the Grand Canal, and takes runners into, and around the packed out with spectators, St Marks Square. Thank god we don’t have to run over the entire 354 bridges in Venice.
New to this year’s race is the introduction of the Italian School of Rescue Dogs, who lined the route alongside the canal banks as we enter the Venetian canals, ready to dive into action should any wobbly legged athlete end up in the canal. As far as I am aware these dogs, which all looked bored to death as I passed, were not needed. And contra to popular believe, and comments suggesting that I can run on water, I didn’t feel like putting that theory to the test, not even to entertain the dogs.
Counting off the bridges now, with the finish line almost in sight The crowds are large and very noisy, shouting, and at times screaming to get more speed from the weary athletes, as we run around a cordoned off St Marks Square. Three bridges to go, two bridges to go, and then coming over the last bridge, the finish area is in full view with only about two hundred yards to the line. I can hear a familiar voice shouting, and recognize Maureen who has spotted me. She has her camera ready taking photos as I come past her and onto the finish line, with a very loud” We Will Rock You” bellowing out from the sound system, and the D J enthusiastically encouraging the weary athletes to sprint through the last few paces. It’s over as I stop my watch at 5.09.27, just outside what I wanted, but delighted and more than happy with my performance.
The usual process of handing in the race chip, having a medal placed around my neck, and then moving down the avenue of the tented area, picking up a goody bag full of food and water, funneling out to pick up my luggage bag which I had placed on the baggage vehicle at the start, takes up about ten minutes.
It’s another one over, and one that will last in my memory. It’s time to locate Maureen and make our way back to our hotel for a well earned shower, a change of clothes, and out for a meal at one of the many restaurants along the Grand Canal boulevard, and watching the last of the runners coming in. I will treat myself to a well deserved pint. And Believe me I did::::
Ray Matthews
I suppose the answer mostly lies in the history and culture of this small, but historically influential island which rises from the venation lagoon and which is partially protected from the open seas by the islands of Lido, and Palestrina, Making this marathon a special one to do before much longer.
Venice, steeped in history, and together with the exploits of Marco Polo, who was one of the most outstanding influences around the 13th century, has always held an interest to me. The City is made up of a series of” Campi” the typical Venetian squares, creating 118 little islands, all interlinked by 354 bridges over narrow canals. Almost every church/house/and building is unique, and is of great architectural interest.
Traveling around Venice is wholly by foot or boat of some description, with of course the famous gondola dating back centuries, and more recently the water buses, which makes frequent stops around the Venice
The marathon day started for me with a 5am rise and eating a specially put on breakfast, to cater for me, and the other nine Italian athletes in the hotel. Leaving the warmth of our hotel just outside Arsenale, we boarded the water bus to take us up the Grand Canal to Piazzale Roma and the water bus terminal, picking up athletes along the way. By the time we reached the end of the line the boat was packed with runners. Venice is a cold place at this time of year and the travel up the Grand Canal was a very cool affair with the wind whipping into the river buses open doors.
Leaving the water bus at Piazzale Roma, our next target is the bus station, and the land buses that will take us up to the start area, some twenty mile inland in Italy. Queuing for these buses, along with hundreds of athletes from around the globe, reminded me of a sort of Mini New York marathon, and the queue of thousands of runners all boarding busses to be taken too, and dumped on Staton Island prior to the race.
We finally arrived at the starting area, some two hours later. I managed to get settled into a large tented area to prepare for the race and take advantage of free warm drinks. By this time the light was just about coming over the walled area of a massive old house, which looked like it had been converted into a museum on the outskirts of a village.
9 am and time to leave the warmth of the benched changing tent, Walking at last towards the starting area, where I managed to hand in my baggage at the waiting articulated lorries that will take our clothes etc to the finish, without having to queue too long. It’s now just after nine oclock and time to make my way down to the start area. I continued walking towards my penned area on the now closed off road together with a group of athletes I had met, and had struck up a conversation with a French athlete who spoke great English. I have a theory, “wouldn’t it be better if everyone in the world, spoke English”, only kidding, that’s the great part of these foreign races, the challenges, and great fun making yourself understood.
My timed pen area, No 5 was towards the back of the line. I said my farewell to my French colleague, who was entering into the second waiting area and obviously a good runner at a less than three hour pen. I must have walked for a good five minutes before reaching and entering my own designated start pen. The race was due to start at 9.29.
Like most of these races, and long after the race has started, the runners towards the back don’t even move for a good few minutes, but eventually we are on the move, walking to start with, then at last into a trot, and then just before reaching the start line some nine minutes later, activating my watch as I cross over the start line. We are into steady running, and setting up the pace that will hopefully take me through to the finish.
The sun has just risen above the trees and casting a silhouette of bright running gear along the river, which will be with us for a good fifteen miles. Its now time to concentrate and not get caught up in any other athletes pace, as my plan is to finish just inside five hours, maintaining my own pace is the key to achieving my goal.
Mile after Mile the winding snake of colorfully clad athletes are all keeping up the relentless pounding on the tarmac road in front of me, and The mental timing clock is working, clipping target times at each mile and kilometer board, heading for the finish. As the half marathon sign is reached, looking at my watch I am bang on target at two hours twenty five minutes, and feeling pretty good, anticipating I will shortly be reaching Parco San Giulliano, knowing that the five kilometer long bridge, leading into Venice, is not too far away, and my next target at about thirty two kilometers.
Heading across this never ending bridge, the link between the mainland of Italy and Venice towards, is a soul destroying straight long road, with a middle that never seems to come, I realize that my pace has dropped, and I need to dig in, but I am running out of energy, and time is disappearing fast. I am unable to maintain the pace, and come to terms with the fact that a week ago I had done a fifty mile race, The Rowbotham Round Rotherham, and no amount of pushing was going to see me achieve my target now.
It’s decided; enjoy the rest of the run into Venice, and get as close as is reasonably comfortable to the five hours. In the last five kilometers, the runners have to account for thirteen bridges as we head into Venice. These bridges would normally represent an area of a full obstacle course, but the organizers have created wooden ramps for the runners to cross over, certainly easier to negotiate, but very bouncy and strange to run over with fatigued legs. The link from the mainland into Venice has been made by a sort of Bailey Bridge, which crosses over the Grand Canal, and takes runners into, and around the packed out with spectators, St Marks Square. Thank god we don’t have to run over the entire 354 bridges in Venice.
New to this year’s race is the introduction of the Italian School of Rescue Dogs, who lined the route alongside the canal banks as we enter the Venetian canals, ready to dive into action should any wobbly legged athlete end up in the canal. As far as I am aware these dogs, which all looked bored to death as I passed, were not needed. And contra to popular believe, and comments suggesting that I can run on water, I didn’t feel like putting that theory to the test, not even to entertain the dogs.
Counting off the bridges now, with the finish line almost in sight The crowds are large and very noisy, shouting, and at times screaming to get more speed from the weary athletes, as we run around a cordoned off St Marks Square. Three bridges to go, two bridges to go, and then coming over the last bridge, the finish area is in full view with only about two hundred yards to the line. I can hear a familiar voice shouting, and recognize Maureen who has spotted me. She has her camera ready taking photos as I come past her and onto the finish line, with a very loud” We Will Rock You” bellowing out from the sound system, and the D J enthusiastically encouraging the weary athletes to sprint through the last few paces. It’s over as I stop my watch at 5.09.27, just outside what I wanted, but delighted and more than happy with my performance.
The usual process of handing in the race chip, having a medal placed around my neck, and then moving down the avenue of the tented area, picking up a goody bag full of food and water, funneling out to pick up my luggage bag which I had placed on the baggage vehicle at the start, takes up about ten minutes.
It’s another one over, and one that will last in my memory. It’s time to locate Maureen and make our way back to our hotel for a well earned shower, a change of clothes, and out for a meal at one of the many restaurants along the Grand Canal boulevard, and watching the last of the runners coming in. I will treat myself to a well deserved pint. And Believe me I did::::
Ray Matthews