Dubai Marathon Race Report

I left Doha at 8am on Thursday morning, arriving in Dubai at 10. My plan was to go to the hotel, check in, and head to packet pickup before it got crowded in the afternoon. With 1500-2000 people in the full and another 12-14,000 in the 10k and 3k, I figured the expo would be of decent size. Boy, was I wrong. There was only one other person getting their bib while I was getting mine, and only one store selling anything. A local running/tri store set up a table of GU, a few racks of compression clothing, and a couple of fuel belts, bottles, and hats. For a race with this many entrants, it was quite disappointing. Sure made it easy to get in and out of there, though.

I spent the rest of the afternoon shopping for lamps at IKEA. As an aside, no, our brand-new, fully furnished townhomes do not come with lamps. All the lighting is industrial strength bright fluorescent white. It's like living in a hospital.

Moving right along…I had a delicious pre-run dinner at the Japanese restaurant in the hotel. The fish was nice and fresh, and the chef managed to avoid giving me the typical standard five boring kinds like many other sushi places do. Afterwards, I went back up to my room to get everything set for race day. I will say it's kind of nice running a marathon where you know the weather will be sunny and warm at the end of the race. It made packing my drop bag that much easier – flip flops, money for a cab, and a Clif bar. The poor huge orange bag looked kind of sad and empty without the jacket, pants, and hat that I lugged to DC for Marine Corps. With the bag done, my bib pinned on, and my race belt stuffed with goo, bloks, and beans, I climbed into bed to relax before going to sleep.

530am (430 on the body clock) came pretty early, though that's not far off of when I get up for my weekly Friday long runs. Besides, compared to the 330am wake-ups for Goofy, it's nothing. I got dressed, grabbed my gear bag, threw on a long-sleeve top to protect against the cool breeze, and went to the lobby to find myself a cab. Even though I chose a hotel within walking distance of the start and finish, I wanted to try a cab first to save the 20-minute walk if I could. I really wanted to take the Metro, as I'm sure did thousands of other people, but the city didn't want to open it early. They opened the stations near the race so you could walk from one side of the highway to the other through the stations, but the trains were on their normal Friday schedule and wouldn't start operating until 2pm.

Much to my surprise, the cab had no problems in getting me close to the start. They hadn't fully closed the roads yet, so we were able to head straight to the designated drop-off area. They did this part of the race-day transportation puzzle really well. Three lanes of traffic come in, make a U-turn, drop off participants by the Burj sign, and three lanes heading out. Very efficient considering the number of people coming to the race. The organizers also set out plenty of restroom facilities, most of which were segregated for Men or Ladies. These weren't just simple plastic porta-potties either. They were small buildings similar to the VIP ones that the Rock n Roll group tries to get you to sign up for by spending ungodly amounts of cash on Brooks' apparel. Still nowhere near as quick and convenient as the porta-urinals that the Brits used at Sonisphere, but since those have barely made an appearance in the US, I'd be shocked to see them in a more modest country like Dubai.

While waiting for the race to begin, I sat down next to a tree and did some people watching. From serious runners like you'd find at any American marathon to a group of 30-40 Malaysians in matching head scarves and long-sleeve shirts, there was a really refreshing mix of people milling around. I didn't see any women getting ready to run in burqas or abayas, but I did see some expat women in jog bras and running skirts. Scandalous!

The start was in Downtown Dubai next to the Dubai Mall and the Burj Khalifa. From there we wound around the mall, going past some gorgeous hotels. By the time we left the mall area and turned left onto the city streets, the sun was rising, the spectators had vanished from the roadside, and the runners were spread out enough that I was already up to my planned pace. My strategy for the day was to run nice and steady 9:30 miles, stop and take some pictures of interesting things along the way if I found any, and just enjoy being out there for the day. I didn't really have a time goal other than wanting to be in under 4:30, so I was perfectly content to cruise along and take in the sights.

The first part of the course took us by the financial district and the Dubai World Trade Center, and my hotel. I looked over it at knowing full well that 34km later, it'd be mocking me. That's the downside of staying in a hotel near the finish. The hotel I stay at in San Antonio is at mile 25, and it's no fun to run past that, either. Being passed by a pack of Kenyans and Ethiopians like I was standing still instantly brought my mind back to the race. The 15 minute head start the marathon had over the 10k wasn't quite enough to get me past their turn-around before they caught me. Damn, those guys are fast and so fun to watch. Even though their legs were churning a mile a minute, so to speak, they just seemed to be floating in the air as they went by. Unlike me, with my stride that starts out fairly smooth and gentle only to morph into cringe-inducing totally-over-pronating heel-striking by the end of a race. Nothing like seeing the entire sole of your shoe with your ankle rotated 30 degrees in a race picture to make you realize your mechanics are all fucked up. But I digress yet again.

In contrast to the deserted stretch past the hotel and WTC, the road leading out to the beach actually had some people standing around watching the race. Most were groups of workers waiting to cross the road or families out for breakfast, both with confused looks on their faces wondering what we were doing and why, but at least they were there. About halfway to the beach, I heard some women next to me laughing and joking and telling stories, so I decided to try to join in the fun. They were kind enough to let me run with them, a funny story of my own being the price of admission. Approaching the beach, you can't help but notice the giant flagpole looming behind the intersection. Kristin told me that no matter what year she's run this race, the flagpole is always an important landmark. Last year, when the race started in a different part of the city, it marked the 13-mile turn-around point for the out-and-back. This year, it would mean the end of our out-and-back along the beach and the right turn back towards the finish.

The four of us kept knocking off the miles at a steady pace, our conversation ranging from Kristin's upcoming relocation back to the US to the annoying rattle of the beads in Vera's hair to the massage parlor named Hooty Girls we ran by. I was tempted to stop and take a picture of it, but Kristin told me a better photo op lay ahead just after the turn-around near the Burj Al Arab, the Happy Ending salon. I don't remember seeing places with such great names when we were in Thailand. I can't believe they were really here in Dubai.

As we approached the halfway point, we saw Kristin's husband heading back on the other side of the road just in front of the 4-hour pace group. She shouted and waved at him, but he had his game face on and wasn't very responsive. I think this set off the competitor in her because a few minutes later, she asked me if I had any time goals for the race. I told her no, to which she replied by asking me if I wanted to pick up the pace and try to catch the pace group. Seeing as we had just finished the first half in 2:05, this would be no small undertaking. I mulled it over, trying to decide if putting the hammer down and trying for a 4 or 4:05 was worth giving up on what was shaping up to be a relatively easy 4:10. I hemmed and hawed a bit, thought of Ange and Mary and how they race, and I knew what they'd do. They'd tell me to man up and go for it, so that's what I did. Off we went, cranking up from our comfortable 9:30 miles to ones coming in between 8:45 and 9:05. It felt really strange to be winding up so much during the second half of a marathon, but we both figured "what the hell." Neither of us were after a specific time so why not push it and see what we could do. This caused me to miss the picture of Happy Ending, though. Bummer.

The return trip on the beach road was pure hell, and not because of the new speed we were running at. Rather, that damn flagpole just stood out in the distance beckoning us but cruelly never getting any bigger. I had flashbacks to the finish line and adjacent stage at the RnR Virginia Beach half marathon. That was my very first half, and the finish right on the beach. You run directly at it for over two miles at the end of the race, and it never seems to get any bigger or closer either. About the only good thing about that part of the course in Dubai is the fact that the numbers get ticked off much faster when the course in marked in kilometers. There were actually a few pockets of spectators along there too. Not many, but some clusters here and there cheering for their friends/relatives/family members and the rest of us too. No signs, though. I know a lot of the ones in the US are cheesy, but I really enjoy reading them and find them to be good entertainment.

Somewhere around mile 19, I blew up. I went from 8:50 pace to 9:40 pace almost instantly. I sent Kristin on her way and told her I'd see her at the finish. One of the highlights of the last few miles was making the final turn at the Mall and seeing three women in full burqas and abayas out there cheering us on. A very unique sight that you certainly won't find too many places. I got a great boost in the homestretch from my running club friends, too. They were a few hundred yards in front of the line yelling and screaming like crazy for the rest of us going by, just the motivation I needed to keep my finishing kick going to pass a few more people before crossing the line. I managed to cross the line in 4:17, not a bad time, but certainly not the way I thought I'd get it. I can't say I'm disappointed with my result because I didn't have a goal going in. Plus, I learned that it's okay to throw caution to the wind and just go for it. Might be smarter to have a plan to just go for it, but still fun to try.

With the race over, it was time for some picture taking and a nice walk to cool down before hopping in a taxi back to the hotel. A few Guinness and an ice bath later, I was good to go. Nick and Lesley, DBRC members who moved to Dubai back in November, invited us over for a party that afternoon. We had a great time swapping stories of new PRs (15 people set PRs, I think), eating great food, and rehydrating with beer, wine, and champagne. Celebrating with friends is always a great way to spend time after a race.