It was our third day in Iceland by the time the Reykjavik race came round, and we were feeling pretty excited as we headed into the centre of town for the start. After stopping for a race-day classic breakfast of flat white, a flapjack and a banana we were ready to tackle the half (and 10k, for my pal), so we split up and I made my way into the starting pens. It was a big, very organised race but quite casual too, with many people entering on the day. We hadn’t been streamed by time prior to the event—so I just picked a spot in the pen that I thought appropriate. The pacers were easy to spot as they were bedecked with balloons dictating their allocated speed, which was a little reminiscent of Stephen King’s It, but rather adorable nonetheless!
I picked a spot near the 2 hour pacer, and as it was my first international race I was mindful of making sure I stuck to the correct side of the crowd, so I put myself over on the right hand side so as not to hold any of the speedier runners up.
Then fimm, fjórir, þrír, tveir, einn…we were off!
…Except we weren’t, as everyone on the right hand side got stuck in a huge bottleneck, which basically ground to a halt just after we passed the chip timer. Arg!
We eventually got moving again but I was really behind my intended overall pace for the first kilometre, averaging about 6.30 min/km. I decided to just go for it to get my average pace up, so belted (comparatively) my second kilometre out at 5.05 min/km just to get myself back on track.
The views were immediately lovely, out over the bridge and glossy bay into green, leafy suburban Reykjavik. I think the support along the way was the nicest I’ve encountered in my running journey so far, with what felt like the entire neighbourhood spilling out of their houses cheering and playing musical instruments. From the old man on his balcony letting rip on a saxophone, to the full blown bands (props to the guys playing Talking Heads’ Psycho Killer, which I sang out loud as I ran past), to the clutches of children in practical knitwear banging on dustbin lids—it was such a musical affair! I also loved seeing all the old ladies come out onto their verandas in their dressing gowns and fluffy slippers, cups of coffee in hand and shouting encouragement. Not to mention the copious refreshments, people were handing out their own water all along the route, with trays of bananas and my favourite—cinnamon buns! Mention needs to be made of the beer stalls en route too, I didn’t take one, but plenty did, furthering my suspicion I was running amongst the Æsir. It really felt like everyone that wasn’t actually running in the race was there to support and it was really uplifting.
The views just got better and better, with huge mountains looming in the distance at all turns of the windy path through the old town. The working harbour, filled with whale watching boats, tall ships and fishermen gave way to little colourful corrugated cottages stacked up cheerfully in higgledy piggledy city gardens. Eventually the route simplified and followed the coastal road round the bay, with the rolling low-level clouds and glassy sea holding back the watercolour mountains behind. With the ever-changing weather I found myself playing a game of ‘regular rainbow or Bifrost’ as I ran, I determined most were the former else Asgard is really much easier to get to than the literature suggests.
The race itself was billed as flat, and there was certainly much less elevation than some I have run lately. But to say ‘flat’ was a little misleading, because although the first part was level, the five kilometre slight incline halfway through was pretty draining! My legs definitely started to feel fatigued with that relentless, yet tiny gradient. Luckily it was part of an out and back section along the coast, so I knew eventually it would become a slight decline in the opposite direction, though the turning point took a looooong time to arrive. Once it did however I made the most of that gentle slope, and with the silhouette of Hallgrímskirkja coming back into view I picked up my pace as much as seemed sensible. By the time I reached Harpa there was no stopping me, and I powered my way to the end of the race, feeling great. Over the line with a solid time of 1’59, which was pretty much what I aimed for. I was handed a handsome gold medal, got an excitable hug and was furnished with a Viking beer. I like how they do things in Iceland!
What a wonderful run. I honestly had the best time, the turnout was lovely, the other runners were lovely, the city was lovely—it’s telling that the official photographers took fifteen photos of me, and I was beaming in every single one! I’m very tempted to go back next year...
Running on tired legs
New Forest Half Marathon. Got the T shirt.
Will my legs get used to the distance?
London Vitality 10000
1st race, 1st meet with a VRB and a PB! And all before lunch 😀
