Oslo Marathon 42 km - race report

It's difficult to say something definite about Oslo Marathon, since the course changes a bit every year. Downtown Oslo is a constant mess, or, as they would say, is in a process of constant renewal. (They also say it will be wonderful in some years. The same people decided to build the so called Barcode Project; I don't trust them for five cents.)

The 42 km this year consisted of three (or four) loops. First a 10k, then the same 10k plus an ekstra kilometer, and then a half marathon loop consisting of an extra loop out west, then south, and then the same 10k to finish it off.

It was a bit complicated, and during my run I saw one of the marathon leaders take the wrong turn once, but it was my first race of any kind in 20 years, so I didn't know what to expect and don't know whether I should complain or not. I choose not to.

The marathon started at 0940. Around 3000 runners were waiting as I arrived 0935. Partly it was because I had mistimed the metro, but partly also because I didn't buy into that "be at start one hour before" message we all got. I had 4-5 hours ahead of running ahead of me, I didn't need to warm up, and my father and brother would be there to take my bag anyway, so I didn't need to worry about anything but getting ready some minutes before my starting time.

And one last visit to the toilet, one asthma inhalation, one undressing of embarrasingly un-running-style warm-up clothes and one taping of the left big toe later, it was still 0939, and I had all the time in the world. (I was in the last group starting at 0946 anyway...)

I hadn't felt too well that morning. I could feel a cold coming on, or something, and my muscles and joints seem to complain about such mundane activities as going up stairs. How I would manage to survive a full marathon, I didn't know. I wanted to start anyway, wanted to give it my best shot. If I had to stop at 21 km, so be it, at least I hadn't disappointed my family by not even trying.

Group 1 started, then group 2 at 0943, and lastly group 3, 0946, with me for some reason tucked in right behind the 4h45min-tempo guy.

I didn't have a plan anymore. My original plan was to run 5 min, walk 1 min the first half marathon, but that plan went out the window the first kilometer. I just ran. 4:45 seemed a nice enough pace to start in, I didn't spend too much at almost 7 min/km, and I promised myself not to overtake the group which had formed around him, the way groups always forms around tempo balloons.

10 km later, we passed start again. I felt good. I was still right behind the 4:45 group, but it seemed like they were slowing down, so I overtook them soon afterwards. Still not spending too much energy, I left them behind me and ran in my own tempo.

I started passing other runners, and continued to do so for the next 10 or 15 kilometers. Looking at my lap times, I didn't run that much faster, but I must have run a bit wiser, saving energy for later and trying to run at a steady pace. It was a marvellous feeling. I passed one guy, saw someone else down the road, slowly inched closer and passed that runner too, found the next one, passed him... For many kilometers I passed runner after runner and no-one passed me. That might have been the best part of the race.

Halfway, 21 km. I've never liked bananas, but now I eat one and it tastes great. I try to drink some kind of screaming blue sports drink, but it tastes terrible, and I stick to water. My family cheers me on, my wife and two kids, and my parents and brother. My son has made a sign: HEIA on one side, PAPpA on the other. Go Daddy.

My feet feel good. There's a hotspot under one of them, a potential blister later on, but it's not an issue at the moment. My breathing, no problem. My muscles, starting to feel it a bit. But I'm halfway! Running the same distance all over again shouldn't be difficult, eh?

Unless, of course, something happens. It usually does. After 26 km I feel a sharp pain in my heel. I raise my foot and brush away something. Blood. I am bleeding from my heel. I start walking, try not to think about it, but it's painful. I run, landing only on my toes, and the pain goes away. So, no problem, I can run the rest of the way like this? Slowly, for each step, I let my heel come closer to the ground, till it touches the ground again. Hm, no pain? I try walking some steps. No pain. I look at the sole of my foot. No blood. A small droplet of reddish stuff, that was it, I can't even feel the slightest hint of pain anymore.

It might be adrenaline. But it doesn't matter. I keep on running.

I pass start again, at ca 29 km. My family's there, with their signs, shouting and cheering. I don't see anyone else with that many fans (and they don't just stand at one place either, they walk from place to place to see more often), and I feel privileged. Why, after 30 km I even get tears in my eyes: I might finish this thing, I might make it, all the training and all my effort might just pay off, I might run a marathon barefoot! But I step on a small stone and get back to reality. I still have 12 km to go. I still might step on something more sinister which might destroy everything.

And after 32 km, that's what I do. The extra loop along the fiord, on the east side (the course map is attached), is the saddest and most boring part of the entire run. No spectators, no houses, nothing but cars on one side, fences on both -- and gravel. Gravel, gravel, gravel. It seems like this part of Oslo is still very much in the process of renewal, or at least in the first part of renewal, ie tearing down stuff. Tractors drive here on a regular basis, and trucks, and in some years, this might be one of the better areas of the entire city. But now, it's gravel.

I skip and jump and swear. If this had been in the first loop, it wouldn't have been that bad. But it's not, my soles are tender and every sharp stone shoots arrows up my spine. I go left and right and left again, searching for the best places to put my foot, I try to run as softly as a well-worn moccasin, but to no avail, I am forced to walk gingerly and slowly, all the time while swearing.

And suddenly it stops. After the slowest kilometer of the entire run, I feel asphalt again, soft, without gravel, and I speed up and run my fastest kilometer of the entire run.

The euphoria doesn't last, of course, the next kilometer is the second slowest...

ButI survived the gravel, now it's just a matter of keep going. Relentless forward progress, that's the phrase? All through the run, people have been cheering me on. Where are your shoes? Wow, barefoot! Go, monkey toes! The best shoes of today! Now I don't hear them that much, don't sense them, I just focus on myself and where I put my feet. One step at the time. The kilometers go by, but I don't count them, don't pay attention, it doesn't really matter, I know where the course goes, know where I have to run and how far that is, I don't need to count kilometers, I just need to run to the finish line.

I still pass other runners, but not as many, and fot the last kilometer or two, more pass me. My family cheers me on at 40k, I run pass them but walk after 100 meters. Someone takes my picture, I don't care about smiling or waving, I just run. But at the last hill, I see someone I know, he's taking pictures too, and I can't help but smile, and I muster all my strength to run up that last hill, only some hundred meters left now.

Run the last bit, come on.

People cheer when I jog towards the finish line (that's the most fitting word, jog). A few seconds, I think they cheer for me, but then I see the runner-up of the half marathon pass me and I realize they might just as well been cheering for him. It doesn't matter.

I don't cry. I don't scream of joy. I just walk slowly towards my family. A tv-reporter stops me and asks me if I am crazy. I hope not, I reply. My oldest son comes running and gives me a hug. Your mother said you were crazy, the reporter continues. Yes, but my father says I am not, I answer. My youngest son, lacking other ways of expressing his feelings, hits me on my butt with the HEIA-sign. Are you satsfied with your time, the reporter asks. I don't know my time, I reply. 4.38. I brush him off: It doesn't matter. I have never ever run a marathon before, I'm happy. And you did it without shoes? Yes.

I ran a marathon without shoes.

I walk over to my family. My brother opens a bottle of champagne, and when I sit down, they all take pictures of my feet. My two sons sit next to me. What does it feel like to run a barefoot marathon, the oldest one asks me.

I don't know, I say. You just start running and keep on running until you're done. It feels like...

I really don't know what to say. It feels like a normal training run, only longer. I feel entitled to all the praise and fuzz, but on the other hand, I find it much easier to run that far without shoes than with the jogging shoes I used to wear. It feels natural. Tiring, but completely natural.

It feels good, I say in the end. It's difficult to say what I really think: that his hug, their my family's support, will be the best memory of the entire run.

It feels good. Now let's go get some candy.

****

There were at least two other barefooters doing the 42km: one Norwegian ran in 3:38, and one Pole ran the entire route waving a huge flag, finishing in just under 6 hours. There were at least one doing the half-marathon as well, probably a couple. Also quite a few with VFF and other minimalistic shoes.

I timed it beautifully and ran with a negative split: the last half 1,5 minute faster than the first. I'm a bit proud of that.

Both my parents were in awe over how light I ran -- I used to run in a completely different way, they both said. So now I have it from the highest authority that barefoot running is good for your running technique.

After the race, my legs were sore, but the most affected muscle was in the arm where I had attached my phone -- probably a bit too tight.

It was fun, and I want to run a marathon again, preferably one under 4:30 this time. But I also feel that if I am better trained, I can just go on running at this pace for many more kilometers. So I have started looking at ultras as well. (But don't tell anyone just yet! They might think I am crazy!)

I will upload pictures later.
 

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Great report Nisto.
I would love to have a go at another marathon but I just can't put in the time required. How were your knees at the end of it?
When I ran in shoes I would always have terrible knee pains by the end. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't now.
What was the weather like, was it cold on the road? that would always make my feet more sensitive to standing on small stones.
Look forward to the photos.

Neil
 
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My knees sometimes complain about their existence, but they weren't a problem either. My ankles were worse, swollen and tender (they are a bit too stiff, I have to bend them to their limit when I run). The weather was perfect, slightly cold (8-9?) at start, but sunny and no wind, and probably around 15 when I finished.
 
4:38 time is quite good and very impressive for a first mary. go ahead and tell everyone you're planning an ultra. the reporter told you they all believe you're crazy already. :barefoot:
 
Yikes! sounds like an aweful course. Way to stay with it!
Congrats!
 
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View attachment 2892

With my sons. I don't drink the champagne, I have just mved it from them, otherwise they would have locked it over like they always do with milk and juice glasses.
Cute(your kids that is)they both look so proud of their daddy.
Nice pics!
 
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You have a nice family, Nisto. Congrats on your first barefoot marathon! I moved this to the home page...where it deserves to be. Thanks for sharing.
 
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I notice in the pictures of your precious boys that they are wearing Vivos. Nice.
 
Thank you all :). Tristan, i couldn't cave in at the gravel, it was at the far end of the course, the best way of getting back was to continue. I had to pass it anyway. And for racing a marathon after 20 years: I think I would have found a 5 k harder, so much more focus on time. I had run 30+k in training, and figured that I would be able to reach 42 with help from other runners and spectators. And it would be about finishing only. But thank you, being called crazy here always makes me feel good :)