Race Report: Pyongyang Marathon, North Korea 13/04/2014

So... there I was, sitting having lunch at Kim Jon Un's ski resort with several high ranking officials, when after some light banter, a little too much vodka and being fed lemon gateaux by North Korea's minister for sport, he turned to me and said "you must come back in April and run our marathon"

During a not so light lunch with one of North Korea’s leaders

I smiled politely and said "I'd love to", not for one moment thinking he was serious or that once I'd got back to the UK he'd follow up our conversation with an official invite.

More fool me.

Next thing I know I'm on an all expenses paid trip to run the Pyongyang
marathon. 

It was the 27th running of the race in North Korea's capital but the first time it had ever been open to anyone who runs marathons slower than 2hrs 38mins.

Details of the race were very sketchy and despite being told in advance it had a five hour cut-off rumours began to circulate that it may be four hours. 

Numbers printed on silk.

With my most recent marathon times being 3:58 and 3:53 I knew it would only take a slightly bad day to send me over 4hrs. My own self imposed target of trying to remain sub 4 would take on a whole new level of pressure if going over 4 hours would result in a DNF at an international marathon which someone else was paying for.

As it happens, despite much discussion amongst the runners we would start the race not actually knowing.

Kim Il Sun’s Stadium.

Of the 200 or so foreign entrants about 50 were running the marathon, 50 the half marathon and the rest were doing the 10k.

Outside, waiting to go in.

We gathered into four groups outside the Kim IL Sung stadium at 7:40am, the Professionals in one group, the marathon group (Amateur 1), the half marathon group (Amateur 2) and the 10k group (Amateur 3).

Amateur!

We lined up in rows of six behind a young lady holding the Amateur 1 sign and at 8:30am we entered the stadium in the manor of an Olympic team at an opening ceremony. Each and every one of the 50,000 seats was filled with cheering spectators which made for a surreal, goosebump kind of experience.

We followed our flag holder halfway round the track before we turned left and
walked across the pitch before stopping in front of the royal box.

Entering in our groups.

We listened to the opening speeches and then we were marched back out of the south gate and round the outside to the north gate where we would re-enter the stadium and line up on the start. With not a portaloo in sight I had to ask my chaperone where I could find a toilet. He sent me through a doorway that even he would have cracked his head on and down a corridor to the loos. Moments later we were back out and back in the stadium. We lined up on the start and all too soon the starting gun fired and we were off.

As it happens it actually was too soon. It's not entirely clear if the starter fired his gun to signify a five minute warning or if it just went of accidentally but the result was several hundred competitors running down the track towards the south exit. 

I felt quite sorry for the poor North Korean official who stepped in front of the marauding crowd and who was immediately swallowed up like some poor soul at the Pamplona Bull run. 

His mere presence in the middle of the track meant something was wrong and sure enough we all came to a stop before we had made it out onto the streets.

We were duly herded back to the line where four minutes later on the stroke of 9am we started our journey for real.

We exited the stadium and turned right at the Arch of Triumph (same design as the French one only bigger) onto the first of our four laps of Pyongyang.

The Arch of Triumph.

Almost immediately we hit our first hill. A half mile drag up towards the Friendship Tower. Not long after reaching the peak we turned right onto what looked like the longest, most boring road in the world but thankfully it wasn’t long before we turned right again and then after another slightly shorter uphill section we entered the Kumrung tunnel No 2. 

We exited the tunnel onto the Chongryu Bridge which took us over the Taedong River and onto the first of two timing mats, a sharp right turn off the bridge dropped us down onto the riverside and our first drinks station. This consisted of a line of 18 small square white tables about 5 metres apart. Each table was manned by two or three marshals wearing red uniforms and white gloves who offered us the option of a bottle of water, a paper cup of water or a paper cup of some sort of green energy drink.

We followed the river before turning right onto the Runga bridge and back across the river before entering the longer of the two tunnels on the lap, this one being called Kumrung tunnel No1. A second slightly shorter hill followed, a right turn, and we would be faced with the Arch of Triumph which signified the end of the first lap and the crossing of the second timing mat. The 10k runners ended their run here and the size of the field halved.

I spotted my chaperones from the ministry of sport and then headed off for my second drag up the hill and a very similar lap to the first one.

The end of the second lap signified the end of the half marathon and meant the field halved again. I headed out onto my third lap with only the trips through the tunnels giving any respite from the increasing heat.

The only toilets on the course were in restaurants. These were signified by a small wooden signpost on the side of the road with WC written on it and the race marshal stood beside it holding a toilet roll so you could be issued with the appropriate number of sheets.

With there being so few marathon runners it meant for a very lonely run. The heat drained me of energy and with each step feeling like my quads were being hit by hammers the last six miles were a mixture of pain and worry about the possibility of a four hour cut-off along with desperately trying to enjoy the amazing experience and feed off the warmth of the spectators who were still lining much of the course.

The eight trips through tunnels had wreaked havoc with the Garmin which despite what felt like an even pace was now showing I was behind 4hr pace (it registered mile 23 as 12:06 mins and mile 24 as 6:41mins) so with no kilometre markers I wasn't at all sure how close to 4hrs I was going to be.

A race marshal!

Finally the Arch of Triumph and Stadium came into view for the last time but in a final twist the marshal signalled me to take a sharp right turn away from the stadium for an additional half mile out and back to bring the course up to exact marathon distance.
 

I now know I’m safely going to break 4 hours.

 As I entered the stadium I could hear the roar from the 50,000 people who were still in their seats. I was the only runner on the track as I started the final 400 metres to the finish line.

The cheering was amazing and it took me a moment to realise it was actually for
me.

Oh how they laughed!

At this point for the first time in almost four hours I knew for sure I was going to be under four hours, the relief was huge and I went into 'idiot mode', I waved at the crowd and they waved back, I clapped and they clapped. When I did the Danny aeroplane impression 50,000 people laughed, but as I came into the last 100m and did the 'wobbly legged, am I going to make to the line, run', it had them rolling in the aisles.

Wow, that hurt!

It was the kind of behaviour that would have had my daughters dying of embarrassment but it will certainly go down as one of the most amazing 400m I've ever run and given the chance I'd do exactly the same again.
As I crossed the line someone wrapped a towel round me while someone else gave me a bottle of water. I stopped my watch which confirmed I'd finished in 3:52

 

The answer as to whether it was a four or five hour cut-off was shortly answered as the doors to the stadium were pulled closed on the stroke of four hours and the chip timing officials unplugged their machines and walked away.

The chip timing crew.

The reason for the four hour cut-off proved to be more to do with logistics than anything else as the closing ceremony and medal presentation required the use of the track so they couldn't have runners dragging themselves round it.

The crowds dealing with the heat.

Considering it was my 108th marathon it was still packed with 'firsts'. It was the first time I'd been invited to run a marathon by a foreign government, it was the first time someone else picked up the bill for me to do a marathon, the first time my number and chip had ever been delivered to my hotel room, my first number to be printed on silk, the first time I had ever been involved in a false start and the first time runners were banned from carrying cameras on the run.

Had the weather been 10 degrees cooler I’d have been a lot more comfortable, I'd have run faster and would have spent less time worrying about possibly not making the cut-off. Even so the 2014 Pyongyang Marathon has well and truly secured it's place as one of the most amazing marathon experiences I have ever had.

Nausea...

The North Koreans are wonderful people who treated me with nothing but respect and kindness. From the people in the stadium who dealt with the heat and stayed to cheer in all the runners to those who lined the course, my chaperones who cheered me on each lap and even the workmen who cheered from the rooftops, I don't think I've ever felt more welcome during a run.

Very happy!

As it was organised and run as an Olympic event there were sadly only medals for the top three men and women but I do have a certificate from the IAAF which ratifies my finishing time of 3:52:28 and my overall position of 24th.

A quick beer to ease the nausea and then off to shoot guns... but that's another story.

1^st, 2^nd and 24^th at the winner’s dinner.

Details about entering the race can be found here... just don't believe anything it says about 5 hours!

Jason