レースレポート：第56回青梅マラソン／Race Report: Ohme 30K Road Race 2024

On Sunday, Feb. 18, 2024, I ran the 56th Ohme 30K Road Race. The gun went off at 11:30 a.m. I crossed the finish line 2 hours 35 minutes 34 seconds later. The Ohme 30K is one of the most well-known road races held in Tokyo. For one thing, it's known for a long history. In fact, since 1975 it's had a sister partnership with the oldest marathon race in history--the Boston Marathon. Ohme and Boston have something in common. Both are infamous because of their challenging nature. Boston is infamous for the Heart Break Hill. Ohme is infamous for its out-and-back course with an altitude difference of over 85 meters.  You need strong legs, strong cardio, and a tactical approach. The following is a report of how I ran this challenging race.

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I stayed at Toyoko INN in Fussa the night before. Fussa is three stops from JR Kabe Station where the race starts. I hit the bed early and had a good night's sleep. I had a decent breakfast offered by the hotel a good three hours before the race. I avoided drinking coffee because caffeine can make you want to pee.

I reached the venue a good two hours before the race where I got together with my two runner friends. About forty-five minutes before the race, me and my friend went to porta pottis to take a pee. There was a long queue before porta pottis, but the turnover was quick and we didn't wait as much as we thought we had to. By the time we were done, it was already 20 minutes or so before the official time of start. The last tens of minutes can quickly pass. Me and my friend got some memorial photos taken with Ohme's iconic colorful balloons behind us. I reached my corral L, and my friend went on to get to his corral J.

The race was underway at 11:30. It took almost five minutes for me to finally reach the official start line. I excitedly waved at guest starter Mr. Tatsuhiko Hara, former Yomiuri Giants Manager. Once past the start line, runners started picking up the pace. But a minor congestion lasted for almost 30 minutes. It was only after I passed JR Miyanohira Station that I was finally able to settle into a decent pace.

Thanks to the slow pace in the first 5K, it wasn't so hard to inject the pace after the 5K mark. I was able to overtake a significant number of runners between 5 and 10K. Near the 10K mark, I found my cheerleader and waved at her. 

Between 10 and 15K, the incline gets gradually steeper, and over-paced runners start struggling. It made it easier for me to overtake yet more foregoing runners. While running this segment, the leader returned from the turning point. It was Olympican Akira Akasaki. He was literally floating from the rest of the field! It was over a minute or so that I saw a runner-up. Later I learned that Akira won by the second fastest course record. Congrats to the Olympian!

When I ran past JR Kawai Station, the Okutama Ohhashi Bridge was in sight on my left. The turning point is near. I ran economically, saving energy for an increase in pace that I was planning after the halfway point which comes a few hundred meters after the turning point.

When I finally reached the halfway mark, I injected the pace and started hammering down the hill. It is in this segment that most runners run the fastest. But few people near me seemed to run as fast as I did. Though I was significantly faster than most other runners near me, I could tell that the two years of setbacks caused by my left meniscus injury had made me weaker than before the injury. But it's no time to pity myself. I gave it everything I had to make up for the slow pace in the first 5K.

Around 19K the course flattens a little. I eased the pace to recharge my batteries. Shortly before 20K Sydney Olympics Gold Medalist Ms. Naoko Takahashi, a.k.a. Q-chan was giving a high five to passing runners. My lane was slightly away from where she was standing, and it was too late for me to redirect myself to receive her high five, but I had got one from her a couple of times in the past, so I continued to press on. 

At 20.5K shortly before JR Futamatao Station, the course starts to ascend.  This is the Ohme version of the Heart Break Hill. It's a long and steep hill. But what makes it hard is not only its length and steepness. Its timing and location are the main factors of challenge. For citizen runners who have only run half marathons, it is close to the upper limit of their training distance. Also, this steep hill atypically comes in the predominantly descending second half. It is no surprise that you see several runners make a stop during or after the hill and stretch their legs for temporary relief from a spasm. 

Once you reach the top of the hill, there is a long straight downhill. It is one of my favorite parts of the second half. There are few tall trees or buildings on the right. The sun shines strongly on you. The air feels awesome as you cut through it. The cheering from the sidewalks is enormous. Many locals come out along the road as it is the warmest time of the day.

The descent lasts for a couple of kilometers and the course flattens again. Then around the 25K mark, there are a last couple of upward inclines, not as long as the one near Futamatao. These are the final challenges for those who have only run half marathons. They are well into an uncharted territory. Many make a stop again, taking a longer break this time, stretching their calves and hamstrings. Their sight reminds me of myself doing the same on my first two attempts.  Years have passed since then. I've run longer distances many times. These hills are not easy, but manageable now. I keep on paying attention to my running economy, making sure I have enough to run the last 5K strongly.

Once past JR Miyanohira Station, it's all downhill for a couple of kilometers. The course then completely flattens in the last couple of kilometers. The roars from bothr sides of the course increase. The number of cheerers is noticably larger. Yellow traffic lights flicker as you run past each intersection. Traffic is completly shut off to welcome back battle-beaten runners. And I am one of them.

I looked for my cheerleader who was supposed to have returned from Sawai. There she was, holding a smartphone to take memorial photos! I ran wide to get a little closer to her, and then past her into the final stretch leading to the finish line. Oh, I love this moment. The last 200 meters. The sidewalks look packed with crowds, layer upon layer. They are going wild as runners get close to the finish line one after another! The arch that says the finish is finally in sight, but I can't see it clearly because the sun is so strong that it blinds me. It doesn't matter, though. I know where the finish line is. I accelerate, working my arms like a track athlete.  I throw my arms in the air, with a triumphant smile on my face, screaming, "I did it!"

My barefoot 30K race completed, 2 hours 35 minutes 34 seconds after the gun went off! The time is average, compared with my most recent records before injury. But I slashed almost 30 minutes off my record last year. One thing is certain. I'm now fully recovered from my knee injury. My mind-body is strong enough to withstand the challenges of the toughest of road races, and strong enough to do all the training leading to the race which was after all much much harder than the race itself.

My race season 2023 which started last June is now over. My next race is probably in June, and it's a 10K. I am going to lay a strong foundation first by running many long distances slowly, and then as the race nears, I will do some quality speed training. Cannot wait!

Race Report: Ohme 30 K Road Race 2018

On Feb. 18, Sunday I ran Ohme 30 K Road Race 2018 held in Ohme City in the western part of Tokyo. I finished in 2:29:45 (2:27:10). I slashed my PR for this distance by a minute and forty-eight seconds (gross).  I'm happy with the improved result. Also, I ran in aqua shoes with little cushioning this time. I withstood the shock of landing for 30 kilometers on my two soles and with a thin layer of rubber. I'm happy to prove to myself that I can grow stronger without the aid of advanced athletic technology such as bouncy cushioning, and a carbon plate such as the one that is embedded in the sole of the latest product by an American sports brand. However, the biggest feat in this event for me is my first barefoot finish in the Ohme race. I did this to commemorate a runner I respect--Abebe Bikila (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1_umU-Bizs) and also being inspired by Sirai Gena who shed his shoes 500 meters from the finish in Rome Marathon 2010. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eor5tWScK80) My attempt in the race made me respect the legendary Rome Olympics gold medalist even more, because I only ran barefoot in the last two kilometers, but yet a rough surface of the cobbled street frequently pained my soles. Bikila ran all 26.2 miles in bare feet, and beat all other shoe-clad competitors.

For the benefit of those interested in long-distance running and running this race in the future, I would like to give a report of how I ran the race below.

The gun went off at 11:30 am. It took a little less than 3 minutes to reach the official start line from my corral. Once I passed it, everyone started picking up the race. But congestion remained in the first 5 K, but the crowd slowly spread out after that, making it easier for me to overtake runners before me.

I kept my pace in check, trying to save my energy in the latter half. At 10 K I saw my friend Taeko san, who is a member of JAAF. She was there as a judge. I called her name and waved at her. She called my name, and said "Ganbatte" which means "Come on!" or "Give it all you've got." It lifted my spirit.

Shortly after I left Taeko san behind, I saw first Elite runners coming back from the u-turn. I shouted, "Sento runner kakko iizo!" which literally means, "Elite runners, you guys are so cool." I hope my voice reached them, and probably it did, because my voice was so loud.

Between 13 and 14 K the road got narrower, and more runners came running down from the u-turn. I saw Mr. F, a student at my language school, and a far faster runner than myself, hammering down the hill with his face sweaty and red. I was astonished how far ahead he was, and how fast he was going to be that much ahead of me at that stage of the race. I said, "Nice run!" and he raised his right hand for me and disappeared.

Mr. F's committed run ignited a fire inside me. The uphill got steeper as I approached the u-turn, but I pressed on. When I finally reached the turning point, the official timer said 1:17:##, not so faster than the previously year, and a lot slower than originally planned, because my estimated arrival time at the 15 K mark was 1:17:00, and the turning point was some hundred meters before the 15 K mark. I was a little anxious. But I saw it positively, saying to myself that I must have more energy left than the previous year. I changed the gear and ran down the hill like a fire ball.

As I suddenly increased the pace, so did the pressure on my legs. My left hip joint started to hurt a little. It's a common condition caused by sustained hard effort. It wouldn't go away probably until the race was finished, so I had to live with it. The 20 K mark was near. I looked for Taeko san, who was probably still standing the same spot. I found her when she was looking in the other direction. I called her name, and she turned around. But my voice was not as loud as when I called her name at 10 K. I was getting tired, and my breathing was a lot harder.

I crossed the 20 K mark in no time, but even when I heard the beep of the sensor, I didn't see my watch. I had decided not to see it much because I wanted to control my pace based on my gut feeling, rather than on info. given by a digital gadget.

Once past 20 K, there was a brief downhill, and then came one of the two biggest challenges of the second half--a long hill before JR Futamatao Station. My strategy there was not to push too hard. Save the energy even at the sacrifice of time. Some gung-ho runners overtook me, but I didn't care. I know the price of going too fast on an uphill so well. Little by little the sound of the Japanese drums got louder, which was a sign of the approaching end of the hill. In no time I found myself going by the side of a group of men and women clad in Japanese festive kimono who beat giant Japanese drums to cheer runners on.

Now I was running the best part of the entire race. It's a long stretch of straight downhill. When the weather is good, and the sky is blue, I always look up, and hammer down it, feeling as if I were a bird. And yesterday, the weather WAS good, and the sky WAS blue. I changed the gear again and went down the hill flat out, overtaking one runner after another, crossing the center line on the road if necessary although official judges constantly discourage you from doing it. I just felt so good that I didn't care even if I got a few warnings.

Once I hit the bottom of the hill, the course remained flat for a while, and slowly started going up again. Soon the second biggest challenge was coming--another relatively long hill before JR Miyanohira Station. Compared with the one leading to Futamatao, this one is shorter, so it doesn't present as much challenge. Plus, I controlled my pace a little after finishing the downhill after Futamatao, so I had enough energy stored up to beat this hill. Soon I reached the top, and in no time I crossed the 25 K mark.

From that point on there is no uphill. It's either going down or flat. The first one kilometer was all downhill. This is probably the last opportunity for me to dramatically slash time. I changed the gear once again and surged. The leg muscles were more fatigued than before, so they wouldn't turn as smoothly as they would in the earlier stages of the race. The pain in the left hip joint was still there, making me less aggressive with taking wider strides, but I thought I would regret if I didn't kick at this point, so I pressed on and overtook a few more runners who looked content with their steady pace.

The 3 K mark sign was in sight. I was wondering where to take off my aqua shoes. When I ran the first half, I carefully checked the road condition, and decided that only the last 2 kilometers were good for the barefoot run. The condition between 2 and 3 K was particularly bad, the surface of the pavement being rather rough. So I went on in shoes until I finally saw the 2 K mark sign. Now is the moment. At some point I must stop and take off my shoes. But where? There was a police office ahead off me guiding coming runners to the finish. I slowed down and came to a halt right beside him. He looked puzzled. Then as he saw me take off my shoes, grab them in the hands, and take off, he knew what was going on.

The memory of the last two kilometers from Tateyama Wakashio Marathon 2018 on Jan. 28th flashed back. There I took off my shoes 2 K to the finish, too. I surged like a mad man, remembering the  and overtook one runner after another than. I wanted to run like that. But I was more out of breath, and there was pain in the liver also, which made breathing even harder. I gasped for air, but I never felt like I was getting enough oxygen to keep on going. I closed my eyes and ran a few tens of meters. Then I opened them just to make sure I was going straight, and then closed them again and went on. Every now and then I heard cheerers say, "Look! He's barefoot." or "Go, barefoot!" I was tremendously encouraged by these "targeted" yells. I needed them so badly because my willpower was waning at the prospect of the approaching finish. It's funny because ordinarily runners will collect remaining energy to give it one last jolt near the finish. I usually do too. But in a long and hard race like this the feeling that the race is almost over can make you act like the race is over. I fought the tempting whisper of that side of me which wanted to relax immediately. Cheerers' yells jolted my spirit, and ignited a fire inside me again. Soon the last turn was insight. Once you took a right, the finish was less than two hundred meters away. I looked for my bilingual companion, who was supposed to take a train from JR Mitake Station, where she cheered me on twice, once when I was going up to the u-turn and again when I was coming down from it. As the corner came nearer and nearer, I looked across a wall of cheerers on the left side of the street. There she was, shouting my name as she held her smartphone up to shoot photos of me kicking to my first barefoot finish in Ohme.

Soon I was on the final stretch leading to the finish. I swung my arms like a mad man and turned my legs like a locomotive. More people noticed I had no shoes on as more spectators were along either side of the final stretch. I heard multiple young cheerers shouting, "Look! He's barefoot. F**kin' cool!" I laughed inside though my face probably was in a grimace. Several seconds later I crossed the finish line. I pressed the stop button on my wrist watch, and saw the time. It said 2:29:42. It's not the official time. But probably it's not so far from it. I did it. I achieved the three personal goals I set for myself:
1) Running in aqua shoes with little cushioning
2) Finishing under 2:30:00 gross
3) Finishing in bare feet

I gave it everything I had. I got better than myself in the previously year in more ways than one. I am happy.

My next race is Sakura Asahi Kenko Marathon 2018 in March. I still have more than a month to work on my speed, stamina, and spirit. I will do the best I can to become a stronger version of myself in order to finish my race season 2017-2018 with a good feeling about myself.