British Master Athletic Association Northern Ireland Athletics Federation
Northern Ireland Veteran Athletic Association - Homepage
News from the Northern Ireland Veteran Athlete Association
Results from the Northern Ireland Veteran Athlete Association
Northern Ireland Veteran Athlete Association League
Northern Ireland Veteran Athlete Association Fixtures
Northern Ireland Veteran Athlete Association Photograph Galleries
History of the Northern Ireland Veteran Athlete Association
Links to the Northern Ireland Veteran Athlete Association
Membership information for the Northern Ireland Veteran Athlete Association
Contact Northern Ireland Veteran Athlete Association
Northern Ireland Veteran Athlete Association News and Photo Archive

25th PARIS MARATHON 2001

John T. Glover

Paris ilt spring! A gentle stroll at eight minute mile pace along the boulevards past the Louvre, through the Bois de Vicennes, along the banks of the Seine, taking on water every 5K to combat the rising temperature as the sun reaches it's noon zenith.

It all seemed so idyllic the previous October as winter approached. Entries for Bobby Hanna (V45) and myself (V50) were made and the flights and hotel were booked via the internet - Ryan Air from Dublin to Beauvais, Coach to the Percy French pub and a short Metro ride to Liege and the hotel of the same name 50 metres down the street. There was no going back. Add over a thousand pounds sponsorship for the Ulster Cancer Foundation and it was clear that finishing was essential even if on crutches.

By February the idea of a Spring Marathon did not seem such a good idea. Little niggles turned intp major problems which with Mike Jones's help became, little niggles again. The planned double Half Marathon (Larne/Stranraer) was spoilt by Foot and Mouth and a deterioration of the niggles turned the last two weeks into an enforced rest. Eventually though the weekend of the racp arrived and complete with Northern Ireland vest for me (poser as usual) and new Asics kit for Bobby we were on our way.

The registration on Saturday took place in a hall about five times bigger than Maysfield and apart from the pasta there were stalls advertising ever^ major marathon in the world and some less major but more enticing such as the Beaujolais which runs through the vinevards bffering free samples and Neuchatel with awe inspiring scenery provided you make it to the top of the mountain. We arrived at the same time as the elite runners who were taking a photoshoot at their sponsors stand. They were being led by none other than Ricky Simms (Finn Valley and Annadale Striders) now working for Kirn McDonald.
Reality time! We emerged from the Metro at the Arc de Triumph dressed like MAFF cull operators irl our Harland and Wolf white paper boiler suits to be greeted by a cold biting wind and a shower,of rain. Was this really springtime in Paris?

Rule number one. If you want a smooth uninterrupted run through the streets of Paris don't leave it until the last half hour to join the queue for the start. This is not the Great North Run. You simply cannot get through the tightly pa:cked throng sqeezed together like toothpaste in a tube.

When the gun fired at 9.00 am exactly we edged our way precariously towards the start line. We had been prepared for the cobbles but not for the hundreds of Eviarf and Vittel bottles which had first been used to combat the danger of dehydration and then been recycled as receptacles for excess bodily fluids. The consequences of standing on one of these at the start of a 42 kilometer run (we were in Europe) does not bear thinking about.

Five minutes and 25 seconds later were on our way with approximately 12 thousand souls in front of us and a further 15 thousand behind. We were still wearing our 'throw away' T-shirts and such was the cold that we only parted company with them over 20 miles later. By the end of the first kilometre (5.35) it was clear that sticking to the road was going to result in a long trek so we headed for the footpaths. While not perfect and requiring a bit of dodging and diving this was infinitely better than marking time behind the masses.
The first feed station was total chaos. All on one side of the the Bastille roundabout followed by an immediate bottle neck at an acute right angle turn. The decision to carry water for the first 10k was a good decision but we still lost another 20 odd seconds. Future feed zones were little better with everyone diving to the right with no regard for anyone behind them. The choice however was excellent with water, oranges, lemons!, bananas, sugar and at the very end table an energy drink.

By the 10k mark running became relatively free and we strode through the Bois de Vicennes and back towards the river passing runners in droves.

At half distance we stepped on the mat and by the modern miracle of technology those at home were able to ascertain from the marathon web site that we were still on route and just inside the first 8000. By 30K and the second computer chip check we had progressed over 1000 places and had passed through some very uncomfortably hot underpasses, including passing the spot of Princess Diana's untimely death.
By 35K as we passed Roland Garros I was so knackered that not even the sight of Anna Kornakova would have revived me. Bobby was still however running strong and the piece of elastic which I had been clinging to for some time finally broke and he began to disappear into the throng as it snaked it's way through the final kilometres in the Bois de Bologne.

Into the final kilometre I was passed by a young lady from Erewash Valley AC and pride took over. A final 'sprint' up the Avenue Foch and on to the 'pad' to record 3;30.13. Bobby had been waiting patiently for a minute and a half during which time 300 hundred runners had finished! The statistics showed that we had passed a further 2000 competitiors in the last 12K!

Snip went the clippers as the chip was cut from the shoe. The medal was hung round our necks and the post race photo's taken. Immediate refreshment was available in the form of fruit, -energy drinks, power bars and for those with money, burgers and frites. We restrained ourselves with the promise of more palatable fare to come later in a lovely little Italian Restaurant on the Rue de Rome.

By mid afternoon we were having lunch on the Rue de Clichy and being propositioned by a lady from one of the many interesting shops that adorn this particular street famous for the Red Windmill (Moulin Rouge) and Pigalle. We however declined the invitation in favour of a climb up a mountainside to the Sacre Coure.
The spiral staircase to breakfast the next morning was excruciating as was the decent to the Metro. I had forgotten in the intervening 16 years since my last marathon that you use your quad muscles when you run. Still the pain only lasted for about a week and I was eventually able to 'run' again on the following Thursday for about ten minutes.

It is one of the great disappointments in life that by the time that you can afford
the time and money to travel to compete you are too old to do yourself justice.
Still I strongly recommend those fed up with the routine of local competition to get
on the Internet and plan something a little further afield. Anyone for Chicago next
year?