Well, that didn’t go as planned.
I’d entered the Limassol 10K and set the alarm that morning for the disgusting time of 5am as the race started at 8am. I was going alone this time so needed to think more about parking and you always need more time than you think to faff before a race. The night before I’d read that several of the roads would be closed in Limassol for the race and would stay that way until 1.30pm. Not wanting to hang around for long after I’d finished my run I decided to park a few roads inland from the start at Limassol Marina and just walk in. All went as planned except I found I was a little tight on time so I quickly parked up, popped on my running belt and cap and set off following a few bunches of runners obviously headed for the same destination as me. The walk to the start took 15 minutes (this fact becomes important later). There was the usual snaking queue for the ladies loos (how do the men do everything so much quicker?!) so I popped into Haagen Dazs and begged, promising I’d come back for ice cream later (I didn’t).
Soon we were shuffling towards the start line and what a stunning morning it was. The sea was on our right for quite a way and was incredibly still and tranquil. Blue skies and a sun just starting to feel warm on our skin. I wasn’t going for any special time, just wanting to enjoy the experience but after 6K I realised I was a little ahead of where I’d normally be timewise. I decided just to carry plodding on and see what panned out. As the 7K marker appeared I began to feel a iittle queasy. By 7.5K I left the course in search of a suitable bush and was really sick.
Once I was back upright I knew there wasn’t long to go (the relief!) so I set off walking, tapping three or four times on the board held by a little boy which read ‘TAP HERE FOR EXTRA POWER’. I was beginning to feel better so power walked a little. When that felt okay I decided I could slowly jog the final kilometre to the finish line which was visible by now. I sprinted over the line like a looney, grabbed a banana and a bottle of water and set my sights on my car.
Within 20 minutes I was totally disorientated. I was sure I’d retraced my steps of earlier that morning but obviously I hadn’t. I spent another 20 minutes trying to input data into my phone map but it just didn’t seem to recognise anything I put in. And I couldn’t remember much anyway. It wasn’t long before I was attracting attention.
A chap on a motorbike drew up…
‘Are you lost? In the marathon?’
I guess that’s what you might think by the sight of me wearing running gear and a race number and frequently turning in various directions and peering at my phone.
‘No. I just can’t find my car!’
He spent 10 minutes trying to work out where I’d parked before offering to drive me round on his bike to try and find it. Before I could answer he beckoned me to follow him.We headed towards a kafeneio where a group of old chaps were enjoying coffee and playing tavli.
After a rapid exchange in Greek I finally realised he was asking if anyone had a spare helmet for me to wear. No-one did so the ride was out. Just then a couple of cyclists came over to see what all the fun was about.
‘Where did you leave your car?’ they asked.
‘Outside a bakery’.
‘Okay…was there anything else near the bakery?’
‘A roundabout’.
Someone thought to translate the exchange to the old chaps who thought this was hysterical.
If you’ve ever been to Limassol you’ll understand their mirth. There are hundreds of bakeries and hundreds of roundabouts. Eventually I thanked everyone and went on my way. I can’t tell you how glad I was that I carry a little tube of suncream in my running belt. I still had the water I grabbed at the end of the race but it was getting hotter, my muscles and feet ached and my hair was stiff with salt.
Then… with a sudden rush of excitement, I spotted a roundabout ahead, just the size of the one I’d navigated this morning. As I reached it and looked left, joy-oh-joy there was my car. Outside the bakery. It had taken 2 hours to find it. As I flopped in a heap on the seat, the bakery owner rushed out. I thought he was going to complain about me taking up the space outside his shop for so long. But he grinned and handed me a doughnut. I’ve no idea if it was a kind thought to congratulate me on getting through the race or if I looked as if I was about to keel over and he didn’t want the mess to deal with outside his shop. But whatever the reason, it was a lovely gesture.
Lesson learnt. Waypoint your car!
