A fortuitous necessity
One could say that this trip and this run were added to my list by pure chance. One could also say it had been a necessity if I was not to miss out on a benefit. Whichever way you look at it, the boys and I had a wonderful mini holiday, and I celebrated my 44th birthday in an alternative kind of way that resulted in some lovely memories.
During the Christmas holiday 2002, I was browsing a website when I found an article about the Malta Marathon to be run on 23rd February. I was interested precisely because it fell on my birthday, and I soon had the idea of killing three birds with one stone: a trip to southern climes, a marathon and the opportunity to use up our bonus points I would otherwise have lost.
All three of us had been members of the Star Alliance group of airlines bonus scheme for a number of years and had saved up quite a few points. The problem was that these points had to be used before they were five years old if we were not to lose them all together. Because our oldest points were getting very close to their sell by date, a trip to Malta was a pretty obvious way of using them up. The next task was to find a hotel.
An old acquaintance
The article about the Malta Marathon was written by a man called Tommy, who had included his phone number in case anyone might want some practical information. It was, therefore, only natural for me to call him. It’s a small world, and it turned out that I actually knew Tommy. He’d been in China in 2000 and 2001, not as a runner but as an incarnate photographer. He was also going to Malta as a photographer together with a group of runners. Tommy had been to the Malta Marathon before, so he was familiar with the practicalities.
Tommy told me that his group would be staying at the Mellieha Holiday Centre, which was the Danish colony in Malta. A well-known Danish tour operator had sent thousands of tourists to the place over the years.
Tommy said we could come and stay with them. They had two bungalows, each of which had 70 m² of floor space, so there was plenty of room for everyone. If we took sleeping bags along with us, we could stay there without any problem. The deal was that we would buy dinner for the group, so that they could also benefit from our saving and get a little compensation for the comforts lost by accommodating three more people at their little colony.
A detour via Frankfurt
On the evening of Wednesday 19th February, we boarded a plane headed for Frankfurt. It had been quite impossible to find a flight with fairly quick transit to Malta, so we had booked a hotel in Frankfurt just five minutes’ drive from the airport. We were then to leave the next morning for Malta, where we would arrive around midday.
A bit about Malta
Malta is a small archipelago in the Mediterranean just over 90 kilometres south of Sicily. It consists of three inhabited islands: Malta, Gozo and Camino, and the 400,000 population is squeezed into an area about half the size of Denmark’s Baltic island of Bornholm. This makes Malta one of the world’s most densely populated countries. The national language is Maltese, although English also enjoys official status and many Maltese also speak Italian. Malta’s climate is subtropical, and it is surrounded by a coral reef.
‘Illegal immigrants’
From the capital Valetta, we took a taxi to the holiday centre where we were met by Tommy, his girlfriend, and a runner called Torben. As we drove past the guard house, I had a feeling that we ought not really be here. The owners of the place made a living renting out bungalows and not by over-filling them with tourists who had brought their own sleeping bag. I felt as though we were crawling along the Wall panelling rather like illegal immigrants.
Popeye Village
On the Friday, we visited the nearby Popeye Village. The film of the same name was made here in 1980 starring Robin Williams and Shelley Duval, and the village had been built as a set just 15 minutes’ walk from the Mellieha Holiday Centre. The village was to have been pulled down after filming, but they decided to turn it into a tourist attraction instead. So there were colourful, rather odd and wonky buildings, as well as a selection of activities, entertainment, a cafe, toilets and a sandy beach with boat trips. We spent a few hours taking it all in, but though it was fun to see the place we weren’t particularly impressed by it.
One heck of a downpour
Friday evening, we were to pick up our start numbers in the town of Sliema, which was also where the race finished. We could pick our running numbers on Friday between 6 and 7 p.m. or on Saturday afternoon. We chose the former.
Just as we were about to set off, it started raining, later chucking it down with a wind. We stood for a long time waiting for the bus in a leaky shelter. There were nine of us altogether, of whom three were not going to run. They gave up after a while and went back to the house. The bus finally arrived. It was like all other buses in this country with a leaking roof, very noisy and completely without doors. They were funny ancient yellow buses from the 1950s. You would think we were in the Third World or former Eastern Bloc, but we were actually in a West European country on the brink of joining the EU. But here we sat on wet bus seats having difficulty hearing each other speak because of the noise.
It was raining so heavily when we arrived in Sliema that we were unable to cross the road without taking a foot bath. It was simply incredible and quite surreal.
We were to pick up our start numbers at the Hotel Galaxy, but it wasn’t very easy to find. We asked the way several times and got more and more soaking wet. At the same time, it would soon be 7 p.m., and we risked getting there too late after all this trouble. That would have been unbearable, so we ended up taking a taxi.
At the Hotel Galaxy, we got our start numbers. Steffen was originally intending to run this marathon, but decided not to register because he had only just got over influenza. As at all the other marathons, there was also an exhibition, and there were things to buy. Malta is a small country, and so was this place, although not in the negative sense.
Getting to Sliema was no mean feat, and nor was it easy to get back home again. The last bus to Mellieha had already left, so we decided to take a bus via Valetta. But by the time we got there, the last bus to Mellieha had also left. We now had to take a bus to a town called St Paul, where we had something to eat before getting a taxi back to Mellieha, where we arrived around midnight.
Southern Europe in the biting cold
On the Saturday, we went exploring in Mellieha, but there wasn’t much to see. Most of the shops were shut when we got there, with only a few newsstands and touristy places still open, but they weren’t of any interest to us.
In the late afternoon, a group of us played minigolf at the Holiday Centre. When the sun went down, it got bitterly cold. I hadn’t taken the time to study the weather forecast from home. I simply thought that we were off to southern Europe, where it was bound to be warm. But it was very cold, and we didn’t have enough clothes with us.
Malta is usually a sunny island, but we just happened upon an exception, this particular winter having been the coldest in 47 years. On the other hand, people said the island had never been so green.
Birthday in good weather
On Sunday 23rd February, we got up early to fit in all the events of the day. During breakfast, the others sang the traditional birthday song, and I got cards and a present. We were in a taxi on the way to the start before seven o’clock.
When we arrived, it was just as cold as the previous evening, although the weather cheered up during the next half-hour, and by the time the race began at eight, the weather was great. The sun had broken through, so we were running on a gorgeous sunny day in beautiful hilly terrain. The others had been saying that it would rain, but I held onto my belief that it would not rain on my birthday, and at one stage the temperature reached 20°C.
I wasn’t so impressed about my first nine kilometres, but after that I found a good rhythm. I ran all of the 18 kilometres in one go without stopping once. At the same time, I was able to ascertain that my kilometre time was quite reasonable. However, by the time I reached the 27 kilometres mark, I was shattered. I had felt it coming during the last kilometre, and I had to stop running and start walking. The rest of the route was a mixed bag. I made agreements with myself, according to which I ran three kilometres, rewarded myself by walking for a short distance after which I ran three more kilometres.
When I reached the home stretch, Steffen, Emil and some of the others were there rooting for me. Steffen and Tommy took pictures of me while Tommy’s girlfriend sang “Happy Birthday”.
My time was 4:32:40, which was more or less what I had expected, and I was perfectly happy. Emil had run a two-kilometre “Fun Run” and was also very happy with his performance.
The rest of my birthday was spent at the Mellieha Holiday Centre. First I needed an afternoon nap. Later there was a darts competition, good food with red wine and afterwards we packed our suitcases for the homeward journey.
A rare arrogant runner
On Monday, it was time to go home, and we spent the morning enjoying the good weather with a group of Danes. Among us was a very fit woman whom I didn’t know and whom I had no wish to get to know better. I wouldn’t know if she was professional, but the way she behaved certainly was not. I was a bit in doubt as to whether she was self-satisfied, pleased with her own performance, or simply thought she was good. At one stage, I was talking about something I had experienced during my run and how far I had been at that particular moment in time. The woman looked at me condescendingly and asked if I had walked the whole way. That was extremely unpleasant and patronising.
In my time as a runner, I have met many capable, fit and healthy athletes. Characteristic of them all has been their respect of others’ performances and the fact that they didn’t patronise anyone. This woman was the only exception to that sportsmanlike attitude.
After this annoying encounter, we soon took a taxi to the airport and flew home to Denmark via Frankfurt. I had completed yet another marathon, the boys and I had enjoyed some wonderful days together, and I had celebrated my birthday in a very special way.
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