The unique "Dwars door Drenthe Marathon" , by Bert van Bommel and Peter Bosma
Several AJC members participated on the 14th of October in an exceptional sports event: a (half)marathon in one direction (west to east) through the quiet scenery of peaceful Drenthe.
The runners could try to get a PR on the straight and newly asphalted highway N381 towards Emmen and take advantage of the usual wind from behind.
We were with a group of 13 (Rob de Jager & Ina-Joke, Peter Bosma & Agnes, Bert van Bommel & Janny, Guus Sarneel & Saskia, Jan Korving & Monique, Jaap Constant & Cora, and Blaricummer Adrie Boxmeer). The hotel was fine, breakfast good, dinner OK (except for the rib-eye steak ...), the beer was "lekker", but stronger than expected. The atmosphere was excellent as always.
We went by bus to the starting point, and took off at 11:00, and unexpected and uncharacteristically, we had the wind in our face.
Although Drenthe is beautiful, the track was after all a bit "eentonig". We were all glad that we did not opt for the whole one ( except for Kris Loveniers and Adrian Gex-Collet), who ran the 42km in 4h14'. Chapeau!), so we had more time to enjoy the social event afterwards. All bars were crowded and many drinks were needed to compensate the fluid loss during the race.
Our performances were surprisingly good considering the fact that the wind was blowing against us from the east!
The Emmen 1/2 marathon race results
Adrie
1h39'59
Janny
1h40'20
Bert
1h42'31
Peter
1h43'29
Rob
1h43'29
(yes they ran together chasing Bert)
Jan and Monique
1h 58'
Guus and Saskia
2h27'
The only chaotic thing was the returning of the clothing bags afterwards. They need to do this a bit better next time. And maybe there will be another "Dwars door Drenthe Marathon" marathon next year, despite the fact that this year's event had been announced as a once-only race.But success tastes sweet, also for the organisation in Emmen. Nice pictures can be viewed on the website .
So far we have not planned a new target for next year, but we are sure that we will come up with another splendid AJC race somewhere in Europe! In the meantime keep on training and join us next time.
Dwars door Drenthe , by Kris Loveniers
Being in a fairly good general shape, our colleague Adrian Gex-Collet and I decided to try to run a marathon. "Dwars door Drenthe" seemed like a good choice. Although it's held on the same weekend as the more popular Amsterdam marathon, this one appealed us more because of its smaller scale (about 500 participants). It does have a monotonous track though: 42 km of concrete along provincial road N381; which might explain the reaction at the finish of a fellow runner: "you live in The Hague? And you chose this as your first marathon? What's wrong with you?"...As for the race, I'm happy that I managed to run at a steady pace. I was surprised to pass the infamous "wall" without any problems, and the last kilometre I even managed to squeeze out a finishing sprint. Probably thanks to the advice several experienced runners gave me: eat and drink before you're hungry or thirsty; and don't run at a speed you do a 10K with. So I ate a piece of banana every 5K, and let my polar watch dictate my running speed (it made me slow down at kilometre 25 although I was still feeling well - probably for the best!). So, being it not at a new world record, we both finished the race. And as so many before us have told: the feeling at the finish is amazing, and it's an incredible experience!
Amsterdam marathon: Just do it (forty-two times) by Giovanni Arca
D-day had arrived so quickly....I remember that it was a relaxed July day when I had decided to give it a shot at the Amsterdam marathon in the following October, I was pretty confident that time would be on my side for training...I had all I needed, I reckoned...a few years of running experience, a good pair of Asics, a couple of half-marathons on the CV, a heart-rate monitor and a well-thumbed copy of Tim Noakes's "The Lore of Running", a.k.a the Bible on running. Yet, things had not gone according to plan...in the 13 weeks between the Big Decision and the Big Day, I had been on holiday twice, to places where proper training was difficult. In Bali, temperature and humidity were prohibitive, not to mention the rabid-looking stray dogs roaming the countryside. My whole training schedule had been disrupted; I had only managed to schedule two runs of longer than 28 km. So, while on the subway to the starting point at the Olympic Stadium, my confidence took a bruising, as it dawned on me that 42 kms is a long way! A week earlier, even biking the last 12 km made a certain exhausting impression on me...now I would be running them after having managed 30 km already!
After struggling through the t-shirted crowd in the sports hall to drop off my change of clothes, I braved the weather conditions: 12 degrees, windy with a plumbeous sky. How was this possible? The KNMI had predicted a pleasant day, with 18 degrees, sun and no wind. Entering the stadium, I passed under an arch with the motto citius, altius, fortius. Ok, I could understand the last two words: higher and stronger. What about
citius ? My rusty Latin did not help. Maybe it is something to do with lemons, I thought? Forgetting the dead language problem for a while, I started worrying about my hyperactive body, wrestling its way through a crowd of jocks in shorts...my Polar indicated a whopping 235 beats per minute!!! Could I be that nervous? To my relief, it was obviously a false-reading due to interference from the signals transmitted by thousands of other similar devices wrapped around soon-to-be-exhausted bodies. Those minutes preceding the race were the most stressful because of the cold, the crowd and the tension building up towards the start of my first marathon. My nervousness also explains why I failed to trigger the chronometer on my watch until 25 minutes well into the race...oops!
The Amsterdam marathon starts with a "small" loop of 7 km, returning to the Stadium for a round of the athletics track. My destiny was to pass once again under the famous "lemon-thought inducing" Olympic motto (definitely, my Latin needs some refreshing). This time I was not only puzzled by that citius , but also felt slightly mocked by the whole message: "taller and stronger"? So far I had only run 7 km, sweating profusely and with thousands of people ahead of me. Happily, I had settled into my stride and was not worried too much: I felt my pace was pleasantly cadenced and my heart rate in the right 'zone': between 140 and 150 bpm. I just needed to stay in there for another...35 km. To keep my mind off such daunting thoughts, there was the comforting view of the river Amstel, along which I had done several long runs in the past - it meanders from my home in the center of Amsterdam to Oudekerk, making it an ideal training route of about 20 km. I felt relaxed being out of the city, near the water, with boats and rowers. The crowd of runners had spread out a bit, which gave me some breathing space. Sport drinks and small banana 'hapjes' at the aid stations had a positive effect on me. The weather was making me slightly annoyed though: it was too cloudy and dark for me to wear my sunglasses (very bad for a style-conscious Italian!).
From across the Amstel, I saw Them: the cavalry-like Heroes, "Those that Run It in Less than 2.15"! They were already heading North, back to Amsterdam escorted by police motorbikes, while we, lowly footmen of this sweaty race, were still trudging our way southwards to Oudekerk. This apparition re-invigorated me. I had already done 17 km, without any pain, except for a little discomfort in my right hip and my heart rate was a steady 143 bpm. My speed appeared to be very good as well so far: at the intermediate stages of 10 and 15 km, I was a couple of minutes ahead of my target time in order to achieve my most optimistic finishing time of 3 hours and 30 minutes. My strategy from then on was brutally simple...keep it up for another 25 km. Keep on smiling to the crowd and waving at the children. From a philosophical point of view, my Weltanschaung had shrunk considerably by now, as my familiar 3D world had turned into a single dimension, focussing on finishing in 3.30, marked by kilometer milestones one after the other. The rest of my senses registered only the trampling silence of a thousand pairs of running shoes.
As the fatal 33-km mark approached, I started wondering...this was the longest distance I had ever run in my life. From now on it was uncharted territory. Hic sunt leones . Legends abound amongst runners about what happens from this point onwards. Personally, I was feeling fine, my speed was comfortably fast (three minutes ahead of target), no panting and no cardio problems. My heart rate was in the low 140s, sometimes sinking to the 130s, which meant I had to speed up a bit. I had been told by an experienced runner that slacking off was not a good idea during a long-distance race (thanks, Camilla!). The question remained, though - where was He? He, the Man with the Hammer, ready to mete out his vindicative sport justice. Was he hiding behind the façade of one of the beautiful buildings of the Amsterdamse school along the route? Was he disguised behind the cheerful smile of a blonde toddler? As I entered the Vondel Park - at 38 km - a realisation came to me...I had not come across the Man with the Hammer at all. He had spared me (this time) but had struck many fellow runners hard, who could barely walk the last 4 km.
The Vondel Park was important to me for another reason - my girlfriend and, as a surprise, several friends were waiting for me. I had to look splendid when passing in front of them - no undignified feet-shuffling, just a fresh and athletic Giovanni, well at least for those 50 meters where the eyes of familiar faces would be directed towards me. My pretence worked perfectly...I was told afterwards that they were amazed by how energetic I looked. The advantage of this little 'pride trick' was that I effectively managed to dig out extra energy from God knows where.
In the last 2 km, I accelerated a bit and arrived at Olympic Stadium with some élan , thanks also to a vigorously cheering public. I passed the finishing line over one hour after the winner (Bushendich from Kenia, 2.08.52). It had taken me "only" one hour and eight minutes longer than to Boughèra Mohamed El Ouafi, who had won Olympic gold in Amsterdam in 1928. His coach had rewarded him with ten guilders with the advice to go and have a good time in Amsterdam! The last round in the stadium felt truly magnificent and my final time was an unexpected 3.24.52. I read the motto again and remembered. Citius in Latin means faster. Yes, I could proudly say it now - citius, altius, fortius!
The best specialized running shops around
Some of you might know this already, but it could be useful to those who don't.
Hereafter the list of the running specialized shops in The Hague:
-
Hardloopwinkel in de Schoolstraat
- Runnersworld (now called excelsior sport)
- Zier Running (10% discount for EPO employees)
The AJC also has an agrement (10% discount) with Starshoe in Zoetermeer.
I personnaly prefer the shops in Rotterdam ( Runnersworld Rotterdam with Ronald ) because the guy there (Ronald) knows really a lot about running. There is also a women who looks just like me and is also a "neutral type" runner. She is a brilliant runner so I listen to her advice, hoping it will make me run faster -_^
Being in a fairly good general shape, our colleague Adrian Gex-Collet and I decided to try to run a marathon. "Dwars door Drenthe" seemed like a good choice. Although it's held on the same weekend as the more popular Amsterdam marathon, this one appealed us more because of its smaller scale (about 500 participants). It does have a monotonous track though: 42 km of concrete along provincial road N381; which might explain the reaction at the finish of a fellow runner: "you live in The Hague? And you chose this as your first marathon? What's wrong with you?"...As for the race, I'm happy that I managed to run at a steady pace. I was surprised to pass the infamous "wall" without any problems, and the last kilometre I even managed to squeeze out a finishing sprint. Probably thanks to the advice several experienced runners gave me: eat and drink before you're hungry or thirsty; and don't run at a speed you do a 10K with. So I ate a piece of banana every 5K, and let my polar watch dictate my running speed (it made me slow down at kilometre 25 although I was still feeling well - probably for the best!). So, being it not at a new world record, we both finished the race. And as so many before us have told: the feeling at the finish is amazing, and it's an incredible experience! 
After struggling through the t-shirted crowd in the sports hall to drop off my change of clothes, I braved the weather conditions: 12 degrees, windy with a plumbeous sky. How was this possible? The KNMI had predicted a pleasant day, with 18 degrees, sun and no wind. Entering the stadium, I passed under an arch with the motto citius, altius, fortius. Ok, I could understand the last two words: higher and stronger. What about
citius ? My rusty Latin did not help. Maybe it is something to do with lemons, I thought? Forgetting the dead language problem for a while, I started worrying about my hyperactive body, wrestling its way through a crowd of jocks in shorts...my Polar indicated a whopping 235 beats per minute!!! Could I be that nervous? To my relief, it was obviously a false-reading due to interference from the signals transmitted by thousands of other similar devices wrapped around soon-to-be-exhausted bodies. Those minutes preceding the race were the most stressful because of the cold, the crowd and the tension building up towards the start of my first marathon. My nervousness also explains why I failed to trigger the chronometer on my watch until 25 minutes well into the race...oops! 
The Vondel Park was important to me for another reason - my girlfriend and, as a surprise, several friends were waiting for me. I had to look splendid when passing in front of them - no undignified feet-shuffling, just a fresh and athletic Giovanni, well at least for those 50 meters where the eyes of familiar faces would be directed towards me. My pretence worked perfectly...I was told afterwards that they were amazed by how energetic I looked. The advantage of this little 'pride trick' was that I effectively managed to dig out extra energy from God knows where. 
In the last 2 km, I accelerated a bit and arrived at Olympic Stadium with some élan , thanks also to a vigorously cheering public. I passed the finishing line over one hour after the winner (Bushendich from Kenia, 2.08.52). It had taken me "only" one hour and eight minutes longer than to Boughèra Mohamed El Ouafi, who had won Olympic gold in Amsterdam in 1928. His coach had rewarded him with ten guilders with the advice to go and have a good time in Amsterdam! The last round in the stadium felt truly magnificent and my final time was an unexpected 3.24.52. I read the motto again and remembered. Citius in Latin means faster. Yes, I could proudly say it now - citius, altius, fortius!
