I HAD A FEW THOUGHTS when I signed up for my first marathon. Firstly, random people kept telling me that I could do it. It seemed superficial that these people assumed I could complete a marathon. However, my second thought was, I knew I could do it. I knew myself. I had good health, determination, and self-motivation to complete one. My third thought was I was not getting any younger. No time like the present to take on this new challenge. Which brings me to my last thought. No regrets. Just do it.
I did not belong to a running group or consider joining one. At the time, my hubby s great runner had no time to train for a marathon, and the plan to do a few training sessions with him dissipated as he injured his knee only a few weeks into my 16-week plan. So, this journey was not shared. I owned it from the beginning: me, myself, and I.
I thought it would be appropriate to ignore the beginner training plan as it included the “walk for 5mins” phase during running sessions. So I skipped to the “Improver Plan,” which matched my fitness levels better. Oh boy! “Improver” implies that one would have completed a previous marathon and intended to improve their time.
So, I digested this and decided I would go full steam ahead with the plan, and instead of running two or three marathons trying to achieve a personal best on the second and third, I will do it once and know I had given it my all. Well, that was easier said than done!
As I was running a Spring marathon, that meant Winter training. I faced it all. Armed with base layers, gloves, a hat, and the clock reminding me that I would have been late to taxi my kids to their clubs if I didn’t go then. Keep to the plan: no procrastination or excuses.
I attended every training session. I was dedicated. Because I took up a challenge that required hours of training: six days a week, that still left me to continue my daily routine. You’ve got to be organized to fit it all in. After all, I still had to work and carry on with parental responsibilities. I didn’t quit my day job.
The seasons matched the progress of my training. January was bleak. Training had adverse effects on my body, to begin with. I ached with difficulty walking at times. I developed a chesty cough that disrupted my sleep and lost 5 lbs.
February weather toughened me up as I defeated sleet and snow and felt pleased that the weather would not be an obstacle.
March saw me as I grew stronger and tested me with blustery weather. I’m proud to say I’ve battled 47mph winds in my longest training run of 20 miles. My confidence was growing.
As April approached, I knew I was just a fortnight away from my race. Temperatures were up, and budding flowers paved the paths on my taper runs. I was on a high. The fatigue was gone. I felt like a pupil who studied well for an exam, and it was just a matter of getting good rest before the big day. Bring it on.
Race day, and I was excited. I barely slept the night before. I welled up as I stood in my coral, waiting for the gun to be fired. I felt so happy to be there without injury or illness. I was grateful just to be there. That was my moment.
I found the 3:45 pacer and tried to stick with them. They said to expect this route to be windy, but nobody mentioned hills. The pacer went so fast, up the hill and back down, and then a long drag up again. I saw Dominic and the kids after the first downhill, and that would be the last time I would see them till I crossed the finish line.
The hills did take a toll on some of us as some runners took detours to be sick by the side of the road, and others found the nearest porter loos. I decided it was time to have my first gel. I tried not to be put off by others who were chatting away and appeared to be relatively fresh!
So many volunteered lined the streets with sweets, orange quarters, and petroleum jelly. I took the occasional jelly bean but luckily did not need Vaseline, thankfully! I reached the halfway point in good time and felt confident that despite seeing my 3:45 pacer disappear, I was still doing good for the time. Perhaps he started too fast?
How does one persevere when one’s toes start to feel sore, and it’s only mile 15, as all markers were in km? Why? It’s 26.2 miles, but each marker was in km, which could have been more helpful. So with some rough calculations, I determined my distance covered. My mind moved quickly from converting km to miles to thinking about my sore toes. Is that going to be a lost toenail?
Then there would be the sweet sound of a steel pan. I know, right. English coastal town and a band playing steel pan. Beautiful. Suddenly, I can focus on the fact that the sun is shining and life is beautiful. I had the sudden urge to start dancing in the street. How tempted I was! I refused myself on the basis that I had no rhythm, and I would look ridiculous.
I thought about the fact that I don’t let loose enough. I don’t have fun. Do people think I’m not fun? I can be. I thought all about this while I ran, which is typical of running. You can do so much thinking.
Occasionally, I glanced back to ensure the 4-hour pacer was nowhere in sight. Though I had drifted further and further away from the 3:45 pacemaker, I still intended to run the marathon in under 4 hours.
As I focussed on the race again, we were running away from the main streets and crowds. It seemed quiet and industrial. With no distraction, it was about putting one foot in front of the other. I noticed men, fit and strong men, stopping to stretch. They were in pain, and this was worrying.
They look fitter than me. What is happening? Then, I ran past a fellow runner being pushed away in a wheelchair towards an ambulance. Probably, mile 22? At least, I was not that person. I felt so sorry for them. It was close to the end.
I received a little token as the route emerged from the deserted roads to the open boardwalk. I didn’t stop to open it. I took it and kept running. At least the crowd was back to offer support. My legs felt heavy. I couldn’t stop because I wouldn’t be able to start again. So I ran very, very slowly.
Proof, I started noticing people overtaking me. Oh gosh! That can’t be good. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. That’s it. It can’t be long now.
The hardest part of marathon lies in those last 5 miles. It feels like forever. Every marker is a disappointment as it is not the end. It is literally a sign saying to run some more. Crikey, my legs are gone.
The stretch to the finish line distanced itself from the crowd. It was pretty calm. I couldn’t read the timer from my distance. I must cross the line as quickly as possible. Every. Second. Counts.
3:56:
I always thought family and friends would be behind the finish line, but it’s the freebies. Water, vitamins, and beer? It was a health market, but everything was free! As I moved between stalls, I dropped my complimentary water bottle. I leaned over to pick it up, but I failed to reach it. As I froze in a leaned-over position, all muscles seizing, another runner retrieved the bottle for me. I marveled that he was so graceful post-marathon. Hmm. Goodie bag filled. I headed towards the crowd, searching for my family.
I started to shiver. One forgets that it was only 5 degrees Celsius. (When you run, they say it adds 10 degrees)
I did complete the 26.2-mile race, and it was a memorable experience.
Final thoughts. I’ve lost two toenails, and nearly 2wks after, my feet still hurt. I should not underestimate this experience’s toll on my body. That said. It may be the first and last marathon I will ever run!
