I ran the Amsterdam marathon Sunday under overcast skies that never rained with the temperature lodged in the low 50s. The conditions couldn't have been more perfect. The course is canal-flat, and winds through neighborhoods south and west of downtown, under the entrance to the Rijksmuseum, through Vondel Park, out and back the banks of the Amstel River, and finishes where it started in the Olympic Stadium.
I approached the race with lots of enthusiasm (who wouldn't?) but also with some concerns because of reviews my wife had read casting shade on aspects of the race. I write here to set the record straight:
Unfair accusations debunked:
Water/fuel stations are few and far between: not true. Organizers situated stations approximately every 2-3 miles, exactly as promised, and each station was stretched-out, well-stocked, and well-staffed by friendly efficient volunteers. Not only did all stations have water and Isostar energy/electrolyte drink, but most had bars, gels, bananas, and sponges. The sponges were my wife's favorite item on the aid-station menu, and she's starting a petition to have these at American races.
The start and finish area smells because Europeans don't bathe: uhhh... Not sure what to say about this because it, well, reeks of prejudice, but I can say with certainty that the stadium smelled fine. Even the finish area smelled rosy, which is probably because there were so many Americans running, and we all know sweaty Americans don't smell.
Bottlenecks at the start: I started in the second corral, and hit the usual minor slowdowns during some early turns but never walked or stopped; my wife started in the third corral (of four) and had to walk 2-3 times for less than 30 seconds. I challenge you to find an American race with 17,000 entrants that's better.
And a few surprises we hadn't anticipated:
Enthusiastic crowds: The route was lined almost the entire way by raucous spectators who clapped, rang bells, played music, and shouted encouragement to runners by name (organizers, putting the runner's name on their bib is a nice touch). Only along the Amstel did the crowd thin, but intermittent music stations, and some entertainers on jet ski-powered levitation platforms in the middle of the river more than compensated.
Distance, and the impact on pace bunny pace: The course zigs and zags through the city, but also from one side of the road to another, narrowing and widening to accommodate crowds, street-car tracks, traffic, and other obstacles. Running the tangent, I'm sure it's 26.2, but according to my Garmin, it was just over 27 miles - the longest marathon I've ever run. I'm guessing that's why the 3:10 pace group I started with (theoretically 7:15 pace for 26.2 miles) ran consistently under 7-minute pace according to my watch before I bailed out of that group when it became clear it wasn't going to be a PR day. My wife had the same experience with a different pace group that ran up to 30 seconds/mile faster than advertised.
Elbows: Banging into people in a crowd is inevitable, and when it's light, or accompanied by a 'sorry,' it's benign. Each of us, however, experienced a couple of elbows that were a bit too sharp to be appropriate or accidental.
Port-o-let inequity: In the United States, the inevitable shortage of port-o-lets at races plagues men and women equally. Elsewhere, where public urinals are set up for men, women must wait in line to urinate and defecate, whereas men must only wait to shit. This does seem gender biased, particularly given that women can empty their bladder more quickly than men (Poiseuille's equation). Women in Amsterdam had a solution to this along the race course when a man was taking too long over his dump: bank on the door and tell him to hurry along. Now that seems only fair.