Thoughts and happenings from a life on Malta

Dad at Rome Olympics 1960

Dad’s legacy. Over half a century ago, when Malta was still under British rule and the members of their armed forces stationed here offered stiff competition to the locals in the sporting field, my dad was one of the leading cyclists on the island. The culmination of his career was when he represented Malta in the Rome Olympics of 1960. Such was his dedication that although marrying a few weeks before the event, he convinced my mum to delay the honeymoon until after the Games. Credit to him for his focus and kudos to her for accepting. I grew up in the shadow of his achievements and the expectations that I was to follow in his wheels…..cadence…..slipstream were inevitably high. This seemed to hold true when in my first official racing season in the “schoolboy” category (as it was known then), I always placed in the top three – excepting the occasion when I had a humiliating encounter with a tree after miscalculating the sharpness of a bend at the bottom of a hill along the panoramic Zurrieq road. However, when I was around 17, the tedium of daily training dampened my enthusiasm and I found myself drifting into other sports and activities. Cycling had become an ex-love but the reach of my dad’s successes never receded. Possibly I’m still in search of an activity where I can say I’m the best local athlete in that event. Truth be told, time is not on my side but, quiet please, my brain is trying to keep that fact hidden from my body.

An affinity for hills. And if it means negotiating a mountain, all the better. With my dad I used to love watching the major tours which, in those days, could only be watched on Italian television: Giro d’Italia and Tour de France. As I still do today, for that matter. However, the real draw was always the mountain stages. I dreamed of being there, even if not necessarily in the peloton as a pro cyclist. Inevitably my heart rate would rise which each switchback and a shiver would run down my spine when the parting waves of supporters indicated that the cyclists’ efforts were reaching the final kilometres of the climb. I was fortunate to live this experience with Lifecycle in 2008 as we travelled from Lourdes to Casablanca. I won’t say that I didn’t suffer, especially on that first day when I tasted the pain a real mountain can inflict on someone inexperienced in tackling kilometre after kilometre of incline. However, the satisfaction of traversing the col and the exhilaration of not succumbing to the mountain was not only rewarding, but addictive. Every mountain stage became personal – who will dominate whom – and I had no intention of kowtowing to a mass of rock. This challenge has now carried on into running. The Madonie race was a necessary reminder of how relatively tame this island’s hills are in comparison and, as a consequence, how much harder I have to work if I want to achieve some respectable results in future.

Slow-twitch. School sports days weren’t particularly pleasant for me because the emphasis was on short athletic events, which is fair enough considering we were only kids. I dreaded the sprints though, as I did if the finish of a cycling race had to be decided in the final metres. My legs just couldn’t carry me fast enough. The learning curve of experience eventually led me to realise that what I lacked in basic speed was made up for in stamina. I need time to settle into a decent pace so basically, the longer the session, the more relaxed I feel. Of course I’m no Forrest Gump and there’s always a threshold where an element of physical discomfort and mental weakness start to set in.

The threshold. For some, it’s how fast. For me, it’s how far or how long. I’m curious to see what this body can do, I’m thrilled by what it has done. Until a few weeks before I actually succeeded, I had never imagined I could manage a 260km bike ride in one day. Until I passed under the finish gantry of the Madonie race, I had never spent so many hours on my feet to conclude an athletic event. Until now, I have no inkling of how much further I can go for but I’m endeavouring to find out. At the end of the day, we really ever cross the threshold of our abilities the moment we give up trying.

I’ll say this first: my finishing time for this marathon is 5:24:05 (5 hours and 24 minutes and 5 seconds!). My personal best for the distance is 2 hours 45 minutes. But then I was 31 and there was pancake-flat Amsterdam; now I’m approaching 50 and here were the Madonie mountains.This Ecomaratona delle Madonie has taught me some lessons and confirmed others I had already learned. Let me share them with you.

I now realize that running up hills in Malta, no matter how steep or long they may seem to my eyes or feel to my legs, is nothing in comparison to running up kilometre after kilometre of mountain gradients regularly in excess of 10% and on occassion around 30%. The only way to simulate the experience is on a treadmill by ramping up the inclination. This was a minus point in my preparation.

Twice-a-week speed work is what most training programs and coaches feed us in order to make us quicker. This is one fast session too many because the route has few paved sections (excepting the opening and closing 1.5k) or flattish off-road tracks. Think of it this way – you own a Ferrari but have to drive it on Maltese roads. Speed is pretty useless, isn’t it? I followed the traditional preparation, hence a second minus point.

If you’re not a natural descender, don’t do it. Hearing that there are 2 mountains to climb, with an overall elevation gain of 2000 metres, might lead you to believe that this is a climbers’ race. True, but only up to a point. The sting in the tail for uphill runners like myself is the final 10k, which is practically all downhill on stone-strewn switchbacks, making it technically difficult. I was way too cautious on the descent, employing the mountain bike equivalent of the granny gear. This meant that all the good work I put in going up was, bend after bend, being lost. It was so disappointing to find that 5….10….20 runners took advantage of my weakness. Third minus point – not having tried to improve my downhill technique.

On some training runs I prefer wearing a cycling jersey with a full length zip. This is ideal for unsettled weather conditions as I can regulate the body temperature according to how I’m feeling. Race day turned out warm, sunny and rather windy so proudly I donned my Mellieha AC club vest. This was not the ideal gear because during the walking phases along the exposed mountain tops, the unforgiving wind turned the hot sweat into a chilly fluid. It was an additional and unnecessary discomfort. This makes it a fourth minus. (As an aside, other runners thought that my club was “Jescar Construction” because the dominant logo of the sponsor is many times larger than the club badge itself.)

Heart rate helps to train smarter. Heart rate does NOT help to race this event. Although I took my HR monitor with me to Sicily, I decided not to wear it on the day. How can it help you when in one section we had to move onwards and upwards with feet and hands? Finally, a plus point for me.

Similarly, time or pace. The pointlessness of pace is self-evident but maybe no so about time. Many of us are in the habit of glancing at our watches. Caution! It can be psychologically suicidal to do so here. When merely walking is a struggle, when you’re half-way up the second mountain with the distance marker saying you’ve covered 25k, when the Madonna dell’Alto sanctuary is still a few kilometres climb away, the last thing you want to know is that in a normal race, you’d already have completed a marathon. To my credit, the first time I glanced at my GPS was as I crossed the finish line. That is why I was incredulous that it was already 2pm (set off at 8.30am). Second plus point.

Specificity is key. Train for the event you’re aiming for. If it’s off-road, then key sessions have to be done on the trail. Generally, I followed this rule as most of my kilometres were logged away from tarmac. As mentioned earlier, I didn’t prepare adequately for the climbs and none at all for the descents. So here, being generous, I give myself a half point.

Click here for part 1: Done!

Click here for part 2: Perched at 1000 metres

Click here for part 4: Marco Olmo, ultramarathoner, is the guest runner

Click here for part 5: Technical information