What NOT to do For Your First Marathon Abroad - Race Recap: Porto Marathon.
- Holly Opatz
- Mar 18, 2024
- 11 min read
Better late than never, as it’s been months now since the 2023 Porto Marathon. November 5th was a date marked on my calendar for quite some time. To think that the race has already come and gone and here I am now, on my plane back to the US, nearly four months later, after what was originally planned to be a three-week trip to Europe, is a bit mind boggling. It was this race that kicked off my temporary relocation abroad. I feel as though I have lived an entirely different life since being the girl that struggled her way through her first international marathon. Despite all the obstacles, this race will forever be so special to me. My time wasn’t a personal best. My effort wasn’t even all that impressive. But I’m so proud of myself for sticking with it when everything during and leading up to this race would otherwise have told me to quit.
So why Maratona do Porto? I wish I could say I had some deep desire to always run this marathon, but to be completely honest, I did not even know it existed until a quick google search for “Races in Europe November 2023”. Quite frankly, I didn’t even know where Porto was geographically, aside from it being a city located in Portugal. But the timing worked out with my current training schedule and my original plan to return to America for the holidays. Plus, for only 60 Euros in comparison to the $200+ price tag on most US races, I “girl-mathed” my way into this decision. I then found myself the cheapest round-trip, Delta flight to Europe, and landed in Madrid three days before the race. This timeline, I wouldn’t not advise upon. In fact, I wouldn’t suggest following many of the things I did leading up to this marathon. I truly have no complaints about the Porto Marathon itself. It was so well-organized, the course was beautiful and surprisingly flat, the swag was top-notch and I met some great runners along the way. Nearly all the issues I encountered on race day were either self-inflicted or completely out of human control. So here I am to share with you all the mistakes I made so you don’t have to repeat them yourself.
What not to do for your first marathon abroad:
Blow up your life just a few weeks prior to leaving.
The month leading up to Porto was a physical, mental and emotional roller coaster for me. October started with my family coming from Minnesota to visit me in San Diego, which I loved dearly and had way too much fun playing tour guide. I got to show my family my favorite beaches, hikes and restaurants. We organized a bar crawl taking the train up to the north county beach towns. We rented kayaks on the bay. We had quite our fair share of breakfast burritos and carne asada tacos. Absolutely no regrets when it comes to spending quality time with loved ones, but not necessarily ideal peak marathon training week.
Then the following weekend, I somehow got talked into doing my first ever triathlon. Also so worth it, and maybe a new addiction to throw into the mix with running, but to squeeze that into a marathon training cycle? Ooof, this girl is crazy - not to mention completely exhausted. I won’t lie, it was great cross training, all the swimming and cycling. It likely helped a lot with injury prevention too, but trying to balance that all with work, social life, sleep and training for that silly marathon - I would not recommend it.
I also would not recommend then deciding to end your long-term relationship with your partner whom you share an apartment with and expect to be emotionally well by the time you have to travel halfway across the globe to run 26.2 miles. I spent the next few weeks couch surfing with friends, packing up all my belongings while scream-crying along with Spotify breakup playlists and pawning off my house plants to foster homes. I was constantly wrestling with the idea of whether or not I had made the right decision. I could not sleep at night. I was on the phone constantly with people back home trying to validate my feelings. My friends in San Diego spent time taking me out, keeping me occupied, and helping me move all the stuff I somehow accumulated in my two years in California into storage. I cannot thank the people in my life for getting me through the emotional turmoil and for helping me with all the logistics required for spontaneously deciding to move your life to another continent for a while.
So yeah, marathon training was not top of mind like it should have been that month prior.
Get consistently less than five hours of sleep the nights leading up to the race.
If only I could say that once my Europe trip got closer, I started to feel reenergized and too excited about my new adventure to keep clinging to the constant “What-ifs” that kept plaguing my thoughts. The sadness kept coming in waves though and the lack of sleep was catching up to me. Then there it happened - I was arriving in Madrid with the start of a classic seasonal cold. Emotionally unwell? Check. Physically unwell? Also check. Please do better than me. Prioritize your sleep and health
The “Wow I’m in Spain!!” emotion won overall though, and I spent my first day in Europe running too many miles for a shakeout run, desperate to explore. I then set-off on a self-guided wine and tapas tour, making friends, eating less than ideal pre-race food and then proceeding to stay up chatting with my Airbnb host until 3am. So much for keeping it tame the first night. Luckily I made my plane from Madrid to Porto, in a sleep coma the entire flight, wishing for the first time in my life that the travel time was longer than the short hour and a half nap I got.
Give yourself only three days to adjust to the time change.
There was once a point in my life where I was more sleep deprivation resistant. My toxic trait is thinking that I still am instead of accepting that those years were reserved solely for the lifestyle of a college student. In denial of this biological fact, however, I truly thought that even in the best of conditions I’d be well adjusted to the seven hour time difference. Spoiler: I was not. Three sleeps (one on a red eye flight, the other two in separate countries) and a few scattered power naps, were not nearly enough rest for a marathon. Optimistically speaking again, I think even just one more night of sleep to adjust would have done wonders, but if you’re able to get more, you’ll crush it in the sleep department.
Wait until the last minute to figure out race day transportation.
While laying out all my race day gear the night before, thinking I finally had a slight grasp on my life, I fell into a sudden panic that I had absolutely no idea where the start line was or how I would get there. With no car, driving myself there would not be an option. I had yet to figure out the public transportation, let alone know where a bus stop was. Bolt was the new, cheaper Uber to me, but where was it even supposed to drop me off? Would there be road closures? Do I even want to run this stupid race?! Luckily, the marathon info packet was quite informative. An entire page dedicated to a course map with the start line address (Queimodromo, the Parque da Cidade do Porto, by the way). I pinned the closest cross street to the start line and ordered my blot for a 6am pickup, thinking that would give me plenty of time for the 8am race start. Crisis adverted, but that moment of heart rate increase likely did not do me any pre-race favors and in hindsight, an even earlier start line arrival would have further eased the anxiety the next morning considering how long the lines for the limited bathrooms were. Take note.
Expect the best possible weather conditions
Training in San Diego where the weather is nearly perfect year round, to say I was not acclimated to the wind, cold and rain encountered throughout the course of the race would be an understatement. While I had been tracking the weather leading up to the race, I was overly hopeful that the consistent storms that had been plaguing the coast of Portugal would have blown over by race day. My optimism wasn’t completely wasted, as it was a sunny morning upon arrival at the start line. That wind though was something else. With gusts up to 30 mph at points, I swear, running into it was like fighting a brick wall.
That didn't stop over 3,000 runners from showing up at that start line that morning though. The wind really made for quite the spectacular massive wave viewing for all the times the course weaved along the coastline. It even died down a bit through the city streets with tall buildings blocking the brunt of it too. When the ten minute torrential downpour came however, I had to dig deep for that “on-the-bright side” mentality. With waterlogged shoes, sopping wet clothes, now double the weight to carry around and drenched AirPods, I threw my hands up and convinced myself “WOW I LOVE RUNNING” otherwise I probably would have cried.
Fall and cut your knee open 30-minutes into the race
This happened. It was not great. I wish I could blame the uneven cobblestone that was encountered during parts of the course, but sadly this was on flat pavement. Right around mile four I saw a runner trip over a cone and just as I was looking back at them, thinking “Ooof that sucks, I should help him u-“ SMACK. Down I go as I trip over another traffic cone. Thankfully my knee-high compression socks soaked up most of the blood and my adrenaline was still kicking, so I was able to avoid a trip to the first-aid tent. Around mile 14, however, when the muscle fatigue really started to set in, it certainly didn’t help that my knee was already throbbing from another source of pain. All in all, I came out with a pretty cool battle scar so I’ll take it; “My Porto Marathon Tattoo” as I affectionately refer to the discolored patch of skin now.
Consume race snacks that you didn’t experiment with during training
I was all set to go with my Honey Stinger chews and gels, but the adventurous travel mindset in me thought, “Hey, I’ve never seen that type of running gel before…” “Let’s try it.” Bad idea. NOPE. My stomach was not happy with me. Thankfully, in an attempt to ease the discomfort, I had plenty of water to wash it down with. For race hydration, entire mini-electrolyte drinks and water bottles were handed directly to runners, caps still attached to take on the go, if that’s needed and your thing. I, for one, typically despise running with anything extra in my hands, and believe the chug-and-drop aid-stations to be one of the best perks of signing up for an actual organized race versus going for a 26.2 mile run on your own. I’m sure glad I reserved that little extra bit of water at this point, but despite my best intentions, diluting the foreign running fuel was not going to be enough for me. I started desperately searching for a bathroom.
Assume that the course will have bathrooms
It was at this point, however, that I first realized I had not seen a single portable bathroom for sixteen miles. Is this a European thing? A Portuguese thing? Are they playing a trick on me because I’m American? Around mile 18, I saw a male runner not so discreetly pee directly into the Douro river (pictured right). The thought momentarily crossed my mind until I saw a strip of store fronts and restaurants come into view. Perfect. I’ll sneak into a bathroom somewhere up here. Breathless and panic stricken, I started asking innocent bystanders, in English, if there was a bathroom inside I could use. After the third confused and terrified look I received, I realized that people either found me to be an simply another obnoxious American that they were unwilling to help, or they weren’t able to understand what I was asking. Damnit, if there was one Portuguese phrase I should have learned with Duolingo, this was it. As a last resort, I ran into what looked to be a touristy gift shop and in near tears begged to use the bathroom. I must have scared the cashier half to death but he at least understood my dire need and directed me up a set of carpeted spiral stairs to a bathroom in the back store room, a great place to go missing, but I was too busy rushing up the stairs, two-by-two as I profusely thanked him in one of the few Portuguese words I knew, “Obrigada! Obrigada!”
To this day, I’m not sure if it was intentional that there were no bathrooms along the course, or if the race organizers decided not to have them because the winds were that strong (yikes). Regardless, here is my advice: 1. Use the bathroom beforehand, multiple times. 2. Don’t eat unfamiliar foods. 3. Learn this phrase: “Desculpe, onde fica o banheiro?” (Don’t ask me how to pronounce that properly).
Anticipate that your post-race celebration is going to look the same
For me, the best part about race day is finally celebrating your accomplishment afterward. In the past, this had usually consisted of indulging a bit at the post-race beer garden, listening to whatever finish line band was playing, then going out for brunch with fellow runners or friends and family that came to support. While I did get my post race “free” Super Bock beer, this was the first race I ever completed where there wasn’t anyone waiting for me at the finish line and the loneliness hit me like a ton of bricks. Especially since all my friends and family back home at this time were asleep. I couldn’t even FaceTime my mom to tell her that I survived. My finish line photo in my running friends group chat wasn’t getting any attention, nor were there any Strava kudos coming in at this point. I considered mingling with some other runners, and found a few with American flags on their bibs to share some brief congratulations and race recaps, but that only got me so far before realizing most everyone else was, again, obviously speaking Portuguese.
The accomplishment felt bittersweet. I just did this really awesome thing and had no one to share it with. In the beauty and freedom of solo traveling, I found myself in one of those periods of emptiness when you look around and see all these other people surrounded by their loved ones. And then there’s you. Alone. Just holding your Super Bock. Waiting until you hear someone speaking in a language you might understand to strike up some small talk with. It was soul crushing. Then I started to remind myself how much I wanted this moment right now, for myself. I came here alone for a reason. I sat with the void for a while and reflected on all the training, traveling and emotional and physical work that got me to this point right where I was. For this race, taking some time in the midst of all the finish line chaos and acknowledging the journey that got me here was celebration enough.
The reflection also eventually tore me out of my funk. I braved talking to another runner that didn’t have an American flag on his bib and made a new Portuguese Strava connection. I treated myself to breakfast at a café nearby where the bartender and his wife taught me some new Portuguese words and how to eat tremoços. That afternoon I ended up getting dinner with my new Outsite housemates. We explored the beautiful city of Porto together and then I FINALLY got the best night’s sleep. The celebration looked a lot different than my US race finales, and I realized I was more than okay with that. Especially since I knew this was only the beginning of my international racing journey. Porto Marathon Holly was just getting started, but now she knows what not to do next time.
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