The Van Moer Marathon in Kruibeke, Belgium is an 80% road and 20% off-road marathon in the Scheldt Valley, just outside Antwerp. I ran it to test my speed and endurance ahead of the Enschede Marathon in April.
I’m leaning forward, trying to stay upright. A few minutes ago, when I crossed the boardwalk over the Barbierbeek, the wind nearly blew me off my feet.
Welcome to Flanders. It’s the season of the spring classics. Rain, wind, cobblestones, mud, and tough guys on bikes. I’m not sure I qualify as one of the tough guys. I’m also not on a bike, but in my Topo Spectre 2 running shoes.
It’s Opening Weekend in cycling, with Omloop Het Nieuwsblad and Kuurne–Brussels–Kuurne. But the start of Omloop is fifty kilometres away, in Merelbeke. I’m fighting the wind in Kruibeke. Fighting my own fight.
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Negative Split
A couple of minutes ago I was confident I could run my desired negative split. I completed the first loop of the Van Moer Marathon in 1:57:36. Two minutes faster than the fastest scenario I had in mind, and not feeling tired at all. Now I’m doubting.
The wind has picked up to a gale and it’s blowing straight into my face. There’s a small girl running a few metres in front of me, but she won’t give me much shelter. Still, she makes a nice target. Time to start playing catch-up. Or playing Pac-Man, as I like to call it—my favourite game when I’m running a negative split.
Head, cross and tailwind
I’m surprised my legs haven’t suffered at all. The first loop was nice, but not easy. Same wind. Just a little less brutal. Headwind on the dike, crosswind in the mud, tailwind just before the last loop to the finish.
Clay, mud, and cobblestones—the usual Flemish welcome. Then open roads through the Scheldt Valley National Park, where fresh river water and salt sea water meet.
Small field
And to be perfectly honest, I’m in my element. There are only 120 runners doing this marathon today, which means plenty of space. Most of the time I’m on my own. In the beginning a couple of people passed me; later I passed a couple of others.
I’ve got a podcast on. Nature surrounds me: water, meadows, birds. And I’m running. This is my happy place. Especially because my legs feel great. Not totally rested, but good enough for a test.
Looking for confirmation
More than running a negative split, I want confirmation. Confirmation that my training plan is working. I know how to build a running schedule, but a plan for a marathon, a triathlon, and an ultra swimrun is new to me.
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I run less often than I normally would, so I’m curious whether all the cycling and swimming is also giving me endurance.
Last year, preparing for Marathon Rotterdam, I had enough long runs. Maybe even too many, because three weeks before Rotterdam I ran the Chianti Ultra Trail: a 75-kilometre trail in the land of the Strade Bianche, another famous spring classic.
Missing my dream time
I don’t know if it was fatigue, the sun, or not enough carbs that day, but around kilometre 35 my legs locked up. I had to walk a few times, and even allowed myself a pee break just to stop running. That’s why I missed my dream time of 3:44.
The sun isn’t a problem today. Far from it. I prefer the cold anyway. Every 45 minutes I dutifully take a gel. And every few kilometres I drink from the sports drink in my soft flasks.
Company in the wind
Running alone means fighting the wind alone. But I’m sensitive. I get overstimulated easily. So I see loneliness as an advantage rather than a disadvantage.
At least until I run into Christophe. The Belgian politely apologises for sitting right behind me. Our paces match, and sometimes it’s nice to hitch a ride.
We take turns at the front to give the other a break. Until kilometre 30. Then Christophe eases off. Heart problems. He’s no longer allowed to go all out. He’s not supposed to train for too many hours. But he still sneaks in a marathon every now and then—against his doctor’s advice.
The last kilometres
I’m still feeling surprisingly good. Yes, my ankles ache, my knees ache, my thighs ache—but my legs aren’t screaming at me to slow down. So I focus on the people ahead, trying to overtake them one by one. At halfway I was in 73rd place. I’m curious how many I can reel in.
When I pass another little creek making its way to the Scheldt, I spot a small group on the dike ahead of me. Five guys sheltering behind a girl. A couple of cyclists riding alongside them. Metre by metre I pull them in. I take a breath at the back of the group, then slip past and leave them behind.
Nauseated
My watch tells me it’s another five kilometres. For a moment my system protests. I feel tired. A little nauseated. I take off my beanie and let the wind cool my head. I take a sip of sports drink and ask myself my mantra question: “How bad do you want it?”
Bad. Wind or no wind, I want that negative split. For a moment I try to calculate whether I can even run a personal best here. But my brain refuses to do the maths. And besides, I promised myself this would be a test run. Not an exam.
Running with The Boss
I take out my phone, stop the podcast, and select my Bruce Springsteen playlist. The Boss always gives me power. And back home Sara—my boss—doesn’t like listening to him. So I save his songs for my runs.
The wind is now at my back, pushing me toward the finish. I hear snippets of the announcer carried on the air. The closer I get, the more power returns to my legs.
And then the road is suddenly blocked.
I know I have to leave this dike somewhere on the left. But where? I’m running on the right, and hundreds of other runners are coming toward me. The half marathon has started, and they’re all fighting for position, not looking at this lonely runner trying to get to where they’ve just come from.
I slow down. As soon as I see a gap, I squeeze through, apologising as I cut across their line. Hopefully, when they’re running their own last kilometres and have to take the same turn-off, they’ll forgive me.
Mud and Swampy Grass
Off the dike I go. Through mud, swampy grass, and around the corner. Another kilometre into the wind. Fighting. Grinding my teeth.
At the end of the road we have to go up the stairs. On loop one I ran them. Now I’m stumbling up the last steps, barely making the corner. But from here it’s tailwind again. A little extra power.
One more right turn, onto the street where the finish line is waiting. My legs still feel good, so I squeeze out a final sprint and stop the clock at 3:50:19. The results later say 52nd overall, second man over 50.
That’s 1:52:43 for the second half—almost five minutes faster than the first. A big negative split, and only four minutes slower than my personal best. I wanted confirmation. I got confirmation.
Not joy exactly. More like relief.
FAQ
Where is this marathon?
Kruibeke, just outside Antwerp, Belgium.
Which distances are there?
Quarter marathon, half marathon, full marathon, a kids’ run (1 km), and a half marathon walk.
Are there aid stations?
Yes—two per half marathon. It’s a cup-free event, so you need to bring your own cup.
Do you get a medal?
Yes.
On what surface do you run?
Expect variety—and mud.
• ~20% trail paths (muddy when wet)
• ~20% hardened towpath
• ~60% asphalt (with cobblestones)
What shoes should I wear?
If you wear hybrid shoes, like the Mount-to-Coast H1, you’ll be fine.
