When you think of Benidorm, running probably isn’t the first thing that springs to mind. Sunburned holidaymakers in mobility scooters, maybe. Full English breakfasts in pubs called the Red Lion, perhaps. But every November Benidorm hosts both a 10k and a half marathon, and so when the opportunity of a bit of late autumn sun and a weekend away with a race thrown in arose, I was very much in. I’d also never been to Benidorm so was curious to how it compared to the portrayal in the TV series!
Arriving to 20C sunshine on the morning before the race was a balm to the soul after leaving sub-zero, pitch-black Newcastle at 6am. After checking in to our hotel, we wandered up to the race village to pick up our numbers. My customary examination of the course elevation profile had indicated a hill at the end of the route, so I was curious to see how bad it was going to be. It didn’t look horrific, but not what you’d ideally want at the end of a half marathon (imagine the end of the Gateshead parkrun and you wouldn’t be far off). The race T-shirt was nice though, and clearly a lot of others agreed as we would see people wearing them throughout the entire weekend.
We then spent the rest of the day walking along the beaches and exploring the city, before having dinner in the Old Town in the evening. What I found over the course of the weekend was that while there were parts of Benidorm which were like on the telly, parts such as the Old Town and some of the back streets were totally different, with delicious looking bakeries and amazing tapas bars, and also some lovely walks to do in the surrounding hills.
Most half marathon races in the UK are generally held in the morning, so preparing for an evening race threw up a few questions, mainly when and what to eat. Too large a lunch and I’d feel tired and sluggish; too little food during the day and I’d risk crashing at the 10 mile mark. Things had already gone a bit awry the previous evening when instead of my usual pre-race pasta, water, and early night, I ended up having tapas, pizza, and Rioja. Fortunately, the weather forecast looked pretty decent, with the morning rain easing off by the afternoon, minimal wind, and temperatures in the high teens. My plan was to have a good breakfast and then a couple of light snacks during the day, so I filled up on toast and churros at the excellent breakfast buffet. We then had a stroll around the shops and along the beach, grabbing a quick bite from, er, McDonalds (race prep was clearly going further downhill) and then enjoyed a coffee in the sun before heading back to our hotel to get changed.
As we headed up towards the bag drop and start line, it was great to see the North East well represented amongst the participants, with Washington, Low Fell, Sunderland, and Stocksfield amongst the club vests I spotted, as well as the runners from Newburn I was holidaying with. I’d arranged to meet Sam, a fellow Saltwell Harrier at the start for a team photo. The start area was very busy, but I managed to spot red and white hoops on the other side of my pen and got a quick warm up done by running around to meet him.
Due to injury Sam had offered to run with me. While not planning to push for a PB (the agony of getting my current one at the Brass Monkey still fresh in my memory), after coming back from injury myself I was keen to test whether I was back to last year’s form. I told Sam the time range I was aiming for, and he put the numbers into his watch to pace me. The pre-race hubbub died down and the streets fell silent as the Spanish national anthem played, and then all of a sudden we were off.
It didn’t take long to get over the start line, but the first 500m or so was fairly slow and congested so it took a bit of weaving around to get going properly. The first 5k were gently undulating, then we had a nice descent down to the stunning Poniente beach just as the sun was setting.
The stretch along the beaches was long and mostly flat so this was a nice section to pick up the pace. I was starting to feel both the pace and the humidity though, so took a caffeine gel in hope of a boost. We went up and down through the narrow streets of the Old Town then along Levante beach. The main hill of the course was still to come and the going was already feeling tough. We were on track timewise though, having crossed the 10k mark in 47 minutes.
There was a back and forth along one of the streets parallel to the beach and then a left turn. After a few minutes I wondered when the hill was going to materialise. Were we going uphill? Slightly, but it seemed a very gentle climb. Could this by some miracle be the hill I’d been dreading for the past half hour? I didn’t dare ask the question out loud to Sam in case I jinxed it and there was a mountain behind the next bend. On we continued, passing the famous Benidorm Palace from the TV programme. “Nearly at the top now,” said Sam to my delight. A couple of hundred metres further up we did a U-turn at a roundabout and headed back down the hill. I knew that on the route back down we were to do a couple of out-and-backs along some side streets. Unfortunately, what I hadn’t noticed when checking for hills on the elevation profile was that these out-and-backs were not entirely flat. Going slightly downhill out knowing that you had to come back uphill on the way back was a bit of a mental challenge to say the least at this stage of the race.
The final couple of km consisted of a long flat stretch along one of the main streets before the right turn uphill to the finish line. This seemed to go on for ever. My chatting to Sam had descended to the occasional monosyllable at this point of the race as I focused on keeping the pace and counting down the time in my head. ‘2km left, OK that’s 10 minutes to go….1km, 5 minutes more running and you’ll be done… WHY IS NO-ONE TURNING RIGHT YET???’.
Finally, I could see runners ahead turning right. I forced myself to ignore the pain and take in the final moments of the race – the lights, the music pumping out of the bars, the cheering crowds – and surged up the hill. Over the line we went, and gasping for breath, I stopped my watch. 1:41 – pretty much bang on last year’s Great North Run time. Welcome back, full fitness. We congratulated each other and got a couple of final post-race photos before heading our separate ways.
So, what did I learn from this experience? Firstly, that mentally preparing for hills helps, but there will always be tough sections that you can’t plan for where you just have to grit your teeth. Secondly, that if you have a time in mind, having someone pacing you helps massively and makes a hard run more bearable. Thirdly, that Saturday evening races are tricky to prepare for but a lot of fun afterwards…
Pre-and post-race – smiles all round
All in all, I’d highly recommend the Benidorm Half: it was well organised, with a buzzing atmosphere and an attractive course. The date is already saved in my calendar for next year’s race!
