The Marathon

Unless you have ran a marathon it’s quite hard to explain what can happen after 30kms. There is talk of hitting a wall, physically or more mentally. A point where no matter how good things have been going it gets tough. Beyond tough. If you look at a lot of people who run marathons this is the point the pace goes, the speed drops and the target times fail. On Sunday I started to feel this at 33kms, my legs didn’t feel like my own, I had an almost out of body experience having no idea how my legs kept moving. 

Up until that point the pace had been spot on, 3:30kms, 3:28kms 3:31kms and so on. Sub 2:30 was getting closer and closer yet suddenly it was becoming further and further away. The group I was in exploded, some able to fit through the small gap in the wall others crumbling under the pressure. The kms dropped 3:37, 3:38, 3:40. Shit. This is it, this is where you fail. You did good Andrew, you got this far but you cant finish the job. 

As much as my body and mind screamed at me I refused to give in. I decided to go to war with myself, to battle every single step to the finish. But thats the thing about a marathon, it’s so different to an ironman you cant make a wrong step or take your foot off the gas. The seconds in each km matter so much, it’s stressful, hectic and a cauldron of pressure.

I had trained well, I’m not sure when training really began but I would say a 16 week block leading in was specifically targeted at the race. My method was fairly simple, with relatively high volume for a triathlete, 2 key sessions per week sometimes one and just constant consistency. I trained a lot above marathon pace, trying to make it as comfortable as possible. I did sessions I never thought I could achieve and pushed myself harder than before. I also failed sessions, changed plans and doubted myself. 

But training can be a funny thing, one week I ran 3x10km faster than race pace and felt more ready that ever. Then In the week leading in I felt heavy, slow, sore and that it was all too much. That on the day I just wouldn’t have the strength needed for such a race. We always talk of the physical demands of training but really so much is mental, to deal with the head and where it takes you. Trust the training you tell yourself but these can just be empty words. Ultimately you can only control what you can control and I began to accept that, put the weather apps away and just focus on preparing to do the race.

The thing about racing is once the gun goes off all of the worries, stress and fear go away. It’s almost an instant relief, finally I’ve started and can get stuck into this. It no longer matters how the legs feel, how cold it might be, what matters is the 42kms ahead of me and how I’m going to get through these step by step. 

I set out on pace, maybe a bit hot at the start but this is how I enjoy racing getting it going and then settling down. I was in a small comfortable group of three and then swallowed up by a much bigger group of around fifteen. The pace was always around where it needed to be, sometimes above sometimes below but it felt good, hard but controlled. There is a strange unspoken deal within the group to try and share the lead and push the pace. Mostly I like being on the front, in control and able to do what I need. I don’t want to rely on others, if they misstep, drop the pace or begin to fade. You have to use people wisely while always staying alert to what can happen.

The first 25kms almost breeze by, I felt strong and in control, my heart rate was fairly low and I was fuelling well. We were ticking off the target times I set myself comfortably. But you always have this fear and feeling in the back of your head of when will it hurt? When is this really going to kick in and start to bite? 

By now the 30km wall was close and I was ready to ignore every bullshit thing I read or heard about this point. I’m stronger than that I told myself, I’ve trained for this. Stay in control, fuel, drink push on. My legs started burning and mind was in a constant battle slow down, speed up, stay in the group, leave the group. 

I started doing the maths in my head and couldn’t make it make sense. Trying to see how much I could possibly slow down and still make time. Maybe if I just slow the smallest bit the pain will get easier. But when you hit that point, when you feel that time is up you have to find a way back. Find those seconds and push on. I decided this is it, I’m going to do this, run this time or die trying.

As I run the final few kms through Zurich I can’t understand how long they feel. After running 38kms time feels like it’s slowing and the kms feel longer than ever. All I can think about is pace, time, my legs and where the fuck is the finish. I still don’t know if ill make the time If ive suffered enough to make my goal a reality or if I’m going to walk away with some bullshit reason I couldn’t do it.

But then I turn the final corner I see the big clock with its numbers ticking faster than seems fair. And I sprint, I’m going to do this, I am actually going to make this happen. I will cross that line under 2:30. And I do, 2:29:18. I stop the Garmin and check the clock again and again I want to be sure, so sure that I don’t have to go through that pain and suffering ever again. 
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The feeling is hard to describe, its relief, its happiness its pride that I cant explain. I want to lie on the floor and cry but I also want to hug those close to me, be in their arms and know I did it. That I achieved such an incredible feat that I set myself. That every one of the training sessions, hours and weeks were worth it, that the doubts and worries were simply that, just thoughts and not reality. 
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I’ve done many events in my life, achieved some brilliant results and times. But there is something so brutally simple about the marathon. It’s you, the clock, your mind, your body and how fast you can do it. I think in the marathon you learn who you want to be and the person you are. It teaches you about life. And I showed the person I want to be.