It is a little-known fact that the Crew Chief became a
marathoner before I did.
In spring 2008 Linds completed the Edinburgh Moonwalk with a
motley crew of about twenty others. Wearing their decorated bras and reflective
hi-viz caps they walked a marathon around the streets of the capital, starting
at midnight and ploughing on until dawn broke and they finally completed their
26.2 miles. That same night I was in Oxford at the Christ Church Commemoration
Ball with my brother, enjoying a 12 hour dusk-til-dawn white tie festival of
extravagance and gluttony. I joked at the time that I had completed my own
endurance event while Linds was power-walking around freezing cold and largely
empty parts of Edinburgh, and was of the opinion that covering nearly 30 miles
on foot, at any speed, was utter nonsense. After Paris, Brighton, SF, Loch Ness
and Edinburgh, I’m still of the same opinion.
Our shared involvement with the Moonwalk has plodded
alongside my obsession with marathon running, and Linds has since completed the
‘half moon’ part of the event in 2010 in a much-diminished team of just two.
That night I crewed for her and Louise, running ahead of them to source a good
supporting/photo spot and ready to dispense the requested warm clothes and
spare food. I ran all over the city until around 2.30am, when I decided it was
high time for my bed.
But this year I set upon the idea of leaving my
nice warm bed in the early hours, then going out to find the loneliest, the
emptiest, the most miserable and forlorn part of the route I could find, and
bringing some cheer and banter to the poor souls still out there. Among my very few
premeditated altruistic gestures, I reckoned that this was a pretty
good one. But then I came across a problem. A problem which led me to discover
other problems. Fascinating problems.
The Moonwalk is a quality event, and achieves a great deal
both in terms of promoting fitness and fundraising for its charity. Let us be in no doubt that I am in favour of fighting breast cancer. But I think the event has a tiny bit of an
attitude problem. In trying to plan my early-morning solo cheer station, I
wanted to check the route and work out roughly where I should go. But there’s
no map. It’s deliberately withheld, apparently ‘for health and safety reasons’ – unlike any other event of its kind that I’ve ever heard of. Instead I found a
vague description of the areas it covers, which isn’t what I
needed. I needed street names and mile markers, so I could work out where the
majority of people would be at a given time. I needed this because I wanted to
go and support people I’ve never met, who are out walking in my home city in
the middle of the night. Clearly I must be a health and safety risk.
In scouring the FAQs and other material on the Moonwalk
website, I consistently come across the same overly-protective and sometimes
haughty tone. No, you can’t wear your decorated bra over a T-shirt (they did).
No, you can’t use walking poles (they did). No, we haven’t shut the roads, you
should walk on the pavement (they didn’t). No, your family can’t come to the
event village. No, you can’t run. No, there’s no recognition for being first or
having your time recorded (but there are timing clocks, for some reason). No,
you can’t raise money for other charities. No No No No No.
I can sort-of see why the organisers have done most of these things,
perhaps in protecting their brand, fears of overcrowding or other
quasi-legitimate concerns, but I can’t help but feel that as a non-participant
I was unwelcome. This is the opposite of what I adore about big city
marathons – that buzzy, community, happy atmosphere that includes everyone. Races that have webpages devoted to helping spectators plan their cheering. Events that encourage people to be involved at all levels and in all ways. Finish line areas that are more like wonderfully chaotic festivals. The Moonwalk felt more like a private function. Maybe they're playing hard to get?
 |
| Driech. |
As the buses idled their filthy engines, puttering diesel fumes towards the walkers, and with spray from the sea occasionally harassing them from the other side, I cheered like an American. I handed out sweets,
engaged in banter and generally tried to raise a smile from the poor
unfortunates who had only covered 19 ½ miles since the official start seven
hours ago. They would be on their feet for at least another two. The
crazy-awesome-women-together-Dunkirk-spirit had ebbed a bit, replaced by a grim determination
to get the job done. No more decorated bras and jolly fairy lights. I was cheering
for women bundled up in fleeces, cardigans, ponchos, jackets, hoodies, scarves
and plenty of other very sensible things to be wearing on exposed seafront in
the drizzle. A couple were sheepishly scoffing on a takeaway McDonalds. One was carrying a Lidl shopping
bag. I stayed there until I could see the very last walker, offering her a cheery ‘good morning’. She
was, quite reasonably, not cheery.
 |
| Mile 26, in Inverleith park |
I am suggesting very little in the way of change:
- Publicise a route map, like every other event. I will use it to plan my cheering and promise not to be a health or safety risk.
- Remove some of the 'No's from the website and be a bit more flexible.
- Provide an event village which supporters can share in, particularly if you're going to take over a large part of a public park.
Edinburgh may be a capital city, but it's really just a small community, which rallies behind events like this. Please don't shut us out.
Happy walking
Dave
2012 to date: miles run - 221.95, miles biked - 69.2, metres swum - 2350, races - 3
2012 to date: miles run - 221.95, miles biked - 69.2, metres swum - 2350, races - 3
