Last Sunday afternoon, five well meaning sprouts joined 30,000 mad yokes for the annual 20 kilometre dash around Brussels. The possibility of a free isotonic drink on the course and a Mars bar at the finish was more than enough motivation to spur this brave fellowship onwards to glorious victory and inevitable #winning twitter declarations. In truth, victory equated to completing the course within the 4 hour time limit and sparing oneself the dreaded ignominy of a control car overtake.
With the ever ladylike duo of Train Sprouts (known for her flying visits and outrageous fitness level) and Country Sprouts (you can take the girl out of the country but...) keen to out do their ladish opponents Energizer Sprouts (born a warren Duracell bunny), Green Sprouts (fresh faced unknown environmentalist) and Sprouts (your inept blogger "friend"), Sunday was destined to be a day to remember.
But Brussels 20k wasn't going to let the five bold vegetables off easily. At the 3pm start time temperatures had risen above 30°C and with humidity levels souring to saturation point, we knew that our warm up was going to be crucial for success. A nosy gawk at the competition showed that the eh.. "larger" participants favoured the trusty spread-eagled-soak-in-the-rays-on-the-grass stretch while our hard-nosed-thirty-something-skimpy-shorted counterparts preferred sprinting laps of the park as part of their pre-race routine.
Seeing as the sprouts have more character than either of these groups, and cannot be surmised through lazily composed hyphenated adjectives, a quick lean against a tree and a slap on the back was deemed warm up enough and before we knew what was what the starting gun had been fired and we were on our way, jostling, pushing and dodging towards the promise of a much coveted Mars bar.
Seeing as the sprouts have more character than either of these groups, and cannot be surmised through lazily composed hyphenated adjectives, a quick lean against a tree and a slap on the back was deemed warm up enough and before we knew what was what the starting gun had been fired and we were on our way, jostling, pushing and dodging towards the promise of a much coveted Mars bar.
Oh how we laughed as we fed dust to the competition! Oh how lightly we tripped along the fandango and all the way... The first 5km were covered in the blink of an eye. Spluttering giggles at slow moving couples and "walkers", we made a mental note of the dude dressed as a fairy and wondered how many hours we'd beat him by. Such was our confidence that we could joke about the "inviting" nature of a thrice translated sign attached to an elderly jogger which read in delicate font "Please do not push".
Bish! Bosh! Pound! We were eating up the ground like a finely tuned Dakar rally car. It was easy.
But inevitably things soon started to go pear shaped. Energizer Sprouts disappeared in the chaos that was the first water station. Country Sprouts found her own rhythm and plain auld Sprouts ran himself into a hole soon after the halfway mark. By the 12km point the ever loping gaits of Train Sprouts and Green Sprouts represented the last semblance of a once mighty fellowship.
The final 8km were a blur. Sprouts was passed by the fairy. The isotonic drink was a thunderous disappointment: gloopy resin in a can is be difficult to drink at the best of times and it was nigh on impossible when trying to keep two gammy knees going up the hill. The local authority must be fairly unimpressed with the beverage too: it's unlikely the half kilometre section of the road after the iso station will ever lose its stickiness.
The final 8km were a blur. Sprouts was passed by the fairy. The isotonic drink was a thunderous disappointment: gloopy resin in a can is be difficult to drink at the best of times and it was nigh on impossible when trying to keep two gammy knees going up the hill. The local authority must be fairly unimpressed with the beverage too: it's unlikely the half kilometre section of the road after the iso station will ever lose its stickiness.
After the horrendous uphill section from 16km - 18km each of the sprouts was treated to a daunting view of the homeward stretch: a dead straight road to the finish line at the arch of Parc Cinquantenaire. The Mars bar was in sight.
Now from up close, and even from far away, the arch is an imposing structure on the skyline...
...but it's hard not to get depressed when you look up after what seems an age of running towards it to see it hasn't got any closer at all:
But the sprouts presevered through the mirage and foreshortening and finished with cheers of "Bravo!" in their ears. The final listing for the five tiered podium read Energizer Sprouts, Green Sprouts, Train Sprouts, Country Sprouts, with plain Sprouts bringing up the rear half an hour back.
All of the (irrelevant) results are available on the Brussels 20km Website, just click "Results" on the left and enter a name.
Knees, backs, arms - you name it - they're all sore, but it was definitely worth the effort. Plus I can tell you that a post race Mars bar is the best Mars bar you can have. The medal and certificate (also available on the website) were cool too.Anyhow I can't remember smiling as much as when I crossed the line. Mind you, I don't remember seeing as many blisters on my foot either but hey! you win some you lose some. Can't wait to run again, though a little more prep might be necessary for the next race.
Pictures of the day will follow in subsequent posts.
Big woops to fellow sprouts, Country, Green, Rabbit and Train. Hearts! :)
Post-script
The whole shaboosh was kind of spoiled when it was announced that a 25 year old man died on the course. Bart Leemans suffered a traumatic aortic rupture within sight of the finish line. As of yesterday another runner was in a coma brought on through overexertion.
In all 13 runners were hospitalised and upwards of five hundred people were treated in the red cross stations which lined the route from start to finish.
Pictures of the day will follow in subsequent posts.
Big woops to fellow sprouts, Country, Green, Rabbit and Train. Hearts! :)
Post-script
The whole shaboosh was kind of spoiled when it was announced that a 25 year old man died on the course. Bart Leemans suffered a traumatic aortic rupture within sight of the finish line. As of yesterday another runner was in a coma brought on through overexertion.
In all 13 runners were hospitalised and upwards of five hundred people were treated in the red cross stations which lined the route from start to finish.
