At home, the city and the race. Seville and the marathon. The fifth time I participate, some more visiting the city.
You know that my reviews of races, especially marathons, are quite brief. Basically boil down to a fucking you, you will take on the world until you get the hostión. This is the same suit. In definitva, 3:10. I wanted to run between 3:05 and 3:10. Happy but each time I have more clear that I can do better what motivates and equally fucked.
Some preliminaries. A special city like Seville deserves. Morning "turisteo" manual. Temperatures for short sleeves. The winter here is a privilege. Giralda, Cathedral, Plaza of Spain, Guadalquivir in Triana straw.
Spain, Andalucia ... Topics. We're not complaining, we sell.
From the British army barracks in "Lawrence of Arabia" from the Court of Queen Amidala.
Oh, your Menorca. Later
jams pasta meal. The last time I go. The race, how could it be otherwise, for me the best marathon of Spain, continues to grow. We were almost 5,000 and it shows in the increasingly crowded queues.
A strange evening pre marathon. Alice had been to Pilar de Cordoba, a kiss, sweetheart, do we see in carnival? - I found a new city. He took us to a birthday party in a strange bohemian neighborhood of Seville, modern and alternative I had no news. It reminded me of "cultural spaces" of the Portuguese, too much given to artistic concerns of all kinds. Old houses and big yards enabled as studies or meeting places. The festival was celebrated in a huge local, good and varied music that did not lose detail. A Ladyolé Popit and would have loved.
"I love 80!"
In other circumstances, I would have stayed there until I was kicked out but now I am responsible, I settled to take a couple of beers.
Later we were taken to a show that I defined as "Cabaret Flamenco" (?). Here I leave the cartel. An environment that, imagine those who know me, I was hooked. Comedy shows, singing and dancing flamenco, bossa, acrobatics ... Sevilla had a pretty posh image. I never thought that there was a scene of this type. A ship packed with groups with children in the front row, lying on the ground, having the time. Sanote all very funny and a participant of tremendous talent. Probably the only thing that misses living in a village is to access cultural events which unfortunately I do not have here but you know that I am a bit strange.
You know that my reviews of races, especially marathons, are quite brief. Basically boil down to a fucking you, you will take on the world until you get the hostión. This is the same suit. In definitva, 3:10. I wanted to run between 3:05 and 3:10. Happy but each time I have more clear that I can do better what motivates and equally fucked.
Some preliminaries. A special city like Seville deserves. Morning "turisteo" manual. Temperatures for short sleeves. The winter here is a privilege. Giralda, Cathedral, Plaza of Spain, Guadalquivir in Triana straw.
Spain, Andalucia ... Topics. We're not complaining, we sell.
From the British army barracks in "Lawrence of Arabia" from the Court of Queen Amidala.
Oh, your Menorca. Later
jams pasta meal. The last time I go. The race, how could it be otherwise, for me the best marathon of Spain, continues to grow. We were almost 5,000 and it shows in the increasingly crowded queues.
A strange evening pre marathon. Alice had been to Pilar de Cordoba, a kiss, sweetheart, do we see in carnival? - I found a new city. He took us to a birthday party in a strange bohemian neighborhood of Seville, modern and alternative I had no news. It reminded me of "cultural spaces" of the Portuguese, too much given to artistic concerns of all kinds. Old houses and big yards enabled as studies or meeting places. The festival was celebrated in a huge local, good and varied music that did not lose detail. A Ladyolé Popit and would have loved.
"I love 80!"
In other circumstances, I would have stayed there until I was kicked out but now I am responsible, I settled to take a couple of beers.
Later we were taken to a show that I defined as "Cabaret Flamenco" (?). Here I leave the cartel. An environment that, imagine those who know me, I was hooked. Comedy shows, singing and dancing flamenco, bossa, acrobatics ... Sevilla had a pretty posh image. I never thought that there was a scene of this type. A ship packed with groups with children in the front row, lying on the ground, having the time. Sanote all very funny and a participant of tremendous talent. Probably the only thing that misses living in a village is to access cultural events which unfortunately I do not have here but you know that I am a bit strange.
Some images "Barvariedades"
Nearly three hours of performances. Then, as we marched to the hotel, almost twelve at night, I ate a slice of pizza and a croissant. Dinner insufficient to run a marathon the next day. In short, the classic day before an athlete fingerlings.
In the bowels of the stadium, within the family and calentemiento track interior.
Ah, the race. I came out well ahead. Hare had not three hours. My head right off a bit because my idea was to go after a referral. I ran feelings without ever forcing the limit. The first half went very comfortable, enjoying it like few times in a career. I tried to focus and execute the movements correctly, effectively, glide, extend your stride, helping the arms. Spend the minimum possible energy. At 1:32 I reached the half almost unaware. So I marched 33 kilometers in the same way. From there I had envisioned slow down because "the wall" in the distance. It seemed that nothing was missing but I got stuck in a bad way. On the other hand, I have the impression that I took the courage to be scratched some more Minutillo. Why? Because although he could not with the "weapon", was with a smile on his face, encouraging me ahead, encouraging the go ahead, without stopping to thank the public and yet, wanting to finish a holy time. And above all I think I could have done more because it was approaching Cast the kilometer forty, I realized that if I was down from 3:10 to press and you're really squeezed vacuum, that decision is of little use because you do not chimneys. Maybe I lost concentration and went running but it is also easy to think of those miles sitting in front of ordeandor. I went into that precious goal of the Olympic Stadium in 3:10:04. On average 4:31 mile. This is where I always pull the hair that I have and I say, "Damn, Abelin, to see if a year of these half will prepare a plan with some criteria to try to lose three hours." In short, each is as is.
there anything that surprised me. Just when I was down the ramp that leads into the stadium after the race, I moved and I missed a crybaby. I guess the realization of the challenge, is the fact that you are more vulnerable to weakness. The nice thing about this is that despite having 43 in the bag, this bizarre story follows you herding a natural rush hard to explain to the layman. Continue.
ends the first part of the season. We started to get the skinny with a view to May and June where they are most of the year's most important objectives. Not a bad starting point. I myself am now in a state more than acceptable and most importantly, touch wood, "do not hurt me nothing.
never thought he would hear a song by My Bloody Valentine at a party ... and less of a Seville. The sound wall that opened a decade, the melody tucked sheets distortion and noise. The identity that marked the hundreds of bands.
addition, the input video on goal. Activity on the right just after the fat kid pirates mesh. I wear a cap and white shirt, black shorts and socks. The parrot with the guy who gets to do pushups before entering ... Have people for everything.
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"I am Spartacus!"
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