Event: Barcelona Marathon
Date: 16th March 2025

First Race Abroad

Pre-Race
Picture me, a bundle of nerves and carb-loaded dreams, walking into Barcelona’s marathon expo like a kid in a candy store. The city was buzzing, the March air was crisp, I grabbed my bib and resisted buying all the overpriced running swag. I spent the evening meticulously laying out my kit like I was prepping for a moon landing and consuming a mountain of pasta. I visualized running the race, though my brain kept sneaking in images of me tripping over a rogue orange peel. But I was excited to run my first race abroad.

Race Start
Standing in my wave surrounded by thousands of runners, I felt a surge of adrenaline. The sunrise cast a golden glow over the city, and the energy was contagious—cheers, music, and the hum of anticipation. As the gun went off, I settled into my pace, weaving through the pack with focus. The wide, smooth streets and early landmarks fuelled my excitement. The vibes were immaculate, and I was ready to make this marathon my personal dance floor.

The Run
The Barcelona course was a dream—flat, scenic, and lined with enthusiastic crowds. For the first 30K, I was in the zone, hitting my target pace effortlessly. My legs felt springy, my breathing was steady, and I high-fived people along the route, feeding off their energy. The Mediterranean breeze and views kept me uplifted. Then, at 36K, the wall hit me like a rogue piñata. My legs turned to concrete, my brain screamed, “Why are we doing this?!” and I considered flopping onto the curb for a siesta. But I chugged my electrolytes, channelled my inner action hero, and broke the race into bite-sized chunks. The final kilometres were a battle, but the roar of the crowd and the thought of a PB kept me moving forward.

Finish Line
Crossing that finish line was like winning an Oscar, a Grammy, and a free buffet all at once. My watch screamed “PB!” and I threw my hands up like I had just invented running. The 36K struggle made it epic—I’d stared into the abyss and told it to get lost. A volunteer slung a medal around my neck, and I posed for photos like a B-list celebrity. The finish area was buzzing – fountains sparkling, runners crying happy tears, and me, basking in the glory of not dying. My legs were toast, but my soul was doing cartwheels as I waited for my friend to finish.

Post-Race Reflection
Running internationally for the first time was both humbling and inspiring but definitely deepened my love for running. Hitting the wall tested my resilience, but pushing through proved what I’m capable of and the PB was the cherry on top. Not sure when I will next be able to race aboard but 100% keen to do it again and hopefully with more Viceroys!