So my time for the marathon was very slow, not only did I not beat Oprah (4 hours, 29 min or 6:22min/km pace), I'm pretty sure I didn't even beat puff daddy. I might have beaten Pamela Anderson and Katie Holmes though that's not exactly bragging rights because one was known for running in slow motion and the other is well known for running whilst yelling, 'DAWSON, DAWSON, DAWSON'.
BUT, I had the best run of my life. I was worried as I trained a whole lot less post honeymoon for the last two months, though when the gun went off, it was like I had become the wind. A stocky-calved, big-headed, wind. I had to force myself to slow down so as not to over exert myself. At the halfway mark my time was a very nice 2:10 (6:10ish pace) so I was on sight to finish in 4:20ish. My heart rate was about 172, not pleasant, but not dire. However, somewhere into the 29th kilometre the lactic buildup in my legs was so great I was getting cramps in places I didn't even know one could get cramps (seriously, there's a meaty area between your butt and your hamstring. Speaking of, et tu, hamstring? What do you even do anyway? Make ham? Make strings?). The strange thing was, while I couldn't run, I also couldn't walk, because my legs would also seize up. It was like the movie Speed, the bus goes too fast? THE MUSCLES EXPLODE. The bus goes too slow? THE MUSCLES EXPLODE. Keanu Reeves doesn't say, 'whoa, dude'? THE MUSCLES EXPLODE. I was forced into The goldilocks pace of 7:00/km, a leisurely jog for me. it was at this point I threw out my time goal and decided to simply finish the race, and once I decided that, I had the most amazing time.
There were many people who were genuinely running at that pace, but there were others in my predicament, and plenty of veterans who were simply doing it for fun. I had a great time chatting to them at this pace, I actually broke out in song, to Madonna's Borderline at one of the rest stops where they blasted songs from the 80's. There were people running for cancer, people running for their health, a German couple who were running because they wanted to get a nice view of the city, and all their reasons were so noble.
And I realised then I had discovered my marathon quest. People say in a marathon you learn something about yourself, and I realised that I was doing the marathon for all the wrong reasons. I did it cos I was a narcissist who wanted to see how fit I was, hoping it would make me feel great about myself, but I knew then, as I questioned one lady why she had a slice of cheesecake in her bra (her guilty pleasure that she only allowed herself to have if she runs 42k haha), that there was literally no time I that could have been satiated my own craving. No matter what my time might have been, whether it was sub 4:30 or even sub 4:00, I wasn't going to be happy with it, I wasn't going to be proud of it. Because if I were running the entire time, my heart rate would have eventually hit 180+, I would have internally, felt unfit. I did an 8k fun run last November and I found that experience much, MUCH, tougher than the marathon, because the entire time I was wheezing like an old car. If I could travel back in time I would have told the Egotistical Me of Past, 'just run it without looking at your damned watch, go slow.' For the ten kilometres in the marathon that I was going at the pace of a normal easy run, I truly enjoyed what it was like to run easy and long. I never allowed myself an easy run longer than 5km, even my 'easy' long runs are tough, due to the terrain. In canberra the elevation is about the same as my A-cup bosom. As in, I barely noticed it. In fact, it kept going downhill.
I high fived every kid (and there were LOTS), I encouraged every person I passed and belched very loudly at one water stop, causing everyone to burst into laughter. I got to know many very inspiring runners, and shouted many words of thanks to each volunteer. A guy with a megaphone ran with us for awhile and I screamed into it (sorry if you lost your eardrums, residents of the capital). I admired the scenery, which despite the lack of elevation, had very impressive mountains in the distance, and we ran near the lake almost the entire time. I waved at cyclists (one was dressed up as Kermit) and, despite the muscular agony, my effort felt so comfortable that i'm sure my heart could have kept me running for hours. So as crazy as it sounds, yes, I feel more confidant in myself for being able to run for close to five hours comfortably rather than running hard for four. And if I had run it hard, i wouldn't have had a different experience than simply running that distance at home. As a bonus, I also met Supportive Spouse's goal that he had set for me, which was a very hard goal, actually. It was Thou Shalt Not Poop In Public (with an addendum of If Thee Dost Shat That, Cover Up Thy Bib, So Our Friends Don't Find Incriminating Photos Online). Supportive Spouse also overheard one woman who openly announced how she did exactly that, over a bridge, in full view of everyone and I'M NOT THAT PERSON! Yayyyy!
By the time I reached 39k, I had a stupid smile on my face that I couldn't get rid of like my dog being fed her supper. Because I knew then that I was going to finish, and then I made a last dash, which retrospectively, was a little early. I figured even if my muscles lamed me, I could bloody well crawl the rest of the 3km. Supportive Spouse also would have been waiting for almost an hour by now, and I really wanted to finish running. The last three k's were tough, I whimpered pitifully with every step, and every damn volunteer would yell out, 'it's only around the corner!' Or, 'it's only another 100m!'...now I'm not saying they were liars, but when your legs feel like the piece of cow Rocky Balboa's been pummelling in that long Eye of the Tiger montage, 100m better be 100m. Anyway, my garmin was very accurate and matched the course markers, until the 29th, because I started to meander, I was zig zagging across the road to high five people, or I was keeping left even if I should have taken corners closer, that by the time we got to the end, I had run more than 1k more. You know, for funsies.
I conclusion, if I were to encourage anyone to do a marathon (and I'm not sure I would), I would say, do it for the fun, the atmosphere. Bring a friendly attitude, a strong heart, a supportive partner, and an Imodium.
BUT, I had the best run of my life. I was worried as I trained a whole lot less post honeymoon for the last two months, though when the gun went off, it was like I had become the wind. A stocky-calved, big-headed, wind. I had to force myself to slow down so as not to over exert myself. At the halfway mark my time was a very nice 2:10 (6:10ish pace) so I was on sight to finish in 4:20ish. My heart rate was about 172, not pleasant, but not dire. However, somewhere into the 29th kilometre the lactic buildup in my legs was so great I was getting cramps in places I didn't even know one could get cramps (seriously, there's a meaty area between your butt and your hamstring. Speaking of, et tu, hamstring? What do you even do anyway? Make ham? Make strings?). The strange thing was, while I couldn't run, I also couldn't walk, because my legs would also seize up. It was like the movie Speed, the bus goes too fast? THE MUSCLES EXPLODE. The bus goes too slow? THE MUSCLES EXPLODE. Keanu Reeves doesn't say, 'whoa, dude'? THE MUSCLES EXPLODE. I was forced into The goldilocks pace of 7:00/km, a leisurely jog for me. it was at this point I threw out my time goal and decided to simply finish the race, and once I decided that, I had the most amazing time.
There were many people who were genuinely running at that pace, but there were others in my predicament, and plenty of veterans who were simply doing it for fun. I had a great time chatting to them at this pace, I actually broke out in song, to Madonna's Borderline at one of the rest stops where they blasted songs from the 80's. There were people running for cancer, people running for their health, a German couple who were running because they wanted to get a nice view of the city, and all their reasons were so noble.
And I realised then I had discovered my marathon quest. People say in a marathon you learn something about yourself, and I realised that I was doing the marathon for all the wrong reasons. I did it cos I was a narcissist who wanted to see how fit I was, hoping it would make me feel great about myself, but I knew then, as I questioned one lady why she had a slice of cheesecake in her bra (her guilty pleasure that she only allowed herself to have if she runs 42k haha), that there was literally no time I that could have been satiated my own craving. No matter what my time might have been, whether it was sub 4:30 or even sub 4:00, I wasn't going to be happy with it, I wasn't going to be proud of it. Because if I were running the entire time, my heart rate would have eventually hit 180+, I would have internally, felt unfit. I did an 8k fun run last November and I found that experience much, MUCH, tougher than the marathon, because the entire time I was wheezing like an old car. If I could travel back in time I would have told the Egotistical Me of Past, 'just run it without looking at your damned watch, go slow.' For the ten kilometres in the marathon that I was going at the pace of a normal easy run, I truly enjoyed what it was like to run easy and long. I never allowed myself an easy run longer than 5km, even my 'easy' long runs are tough, due to the terrain. In canberra the elevation is about the same as my A-cup bosom. As in, I barely noticed it. In fact, it kept going downhill.
I high fived every kid (and there were LOTS), I encouraged every person I passed and belched very loudly at one water stop, causing everyone to burst into laughter. I got to know many very inspiring runners, and shouted many words of thanks to each volunteer. A guy with a megaphone ran with us for awhile and I screamed into it (sorry if you lost your eardrums, residents of the capital). I admired the scenery, which despite the lack of elevation, had very impressive mountains in the distance, and we ran near the lake almost the entire time. I waved at cyclists (one was dressed up as Kermit) and, despite the muscular agony, my effort felt so comfortable that i'm sure my heart could have kept me running for hours. So as crazy as it sounds, yes, I feel more confidant in myself for being able to run for close to five hours comfortably rather than running hard for four. And if I had run it hard, i wouldn't have had a different experience than simply running that distance at home. As a bonus, I also met Supportive Spouse's goal that he had set for me, which was a very hard goal, actually. It was Thou Shalt Not Poop In Public (with an addendum of If Thee Dost Shat That, Cover Up Thy Bib, So Our Friends Don't Find Incriminating Photos Online). Supportive Spouse also overheard one woman who openly announced how she did exactly that, over a bridge, in full view of everyone and I'M NOT THAT PERSON! Yayyyy!
By the time I reached 39k, I had a stupid smile on my face that I couldn't get rid of like my dog being fed her supper. Because I knew then that I was going to finish, and then I made a last dash, which retrospectively, was a little early. I figured even if my muscles lamed me, I could bloody well crawl the rest of the 3km. Supportive Spouse also would have been waiting for almost an hour by now, and I really wanted to finish running. The last three k's were tough, I whimpered pitifully with every step, and every damn volunteer would yell out, 'it's only around the corner!' Or, 'it's only another 100m!'...now I'm not saying they were liars, but when your legs feel like the piece of cow Rocky Balboa's been pummelling in that long Eye of the Tiger montage, 100m better be 100m. Anyway, my garmin was very accurate and matched the course markers, until the 29th, because I started to meander, I was zig zagging across the road to high five people, or I was keeping left even if I should have taken corners closer, that by the time we got to the end, I had run more than 1k more. You know, for funsies.
I conclusion, if I were to encourage anyone to do a marathon (and I'm not sure I would), I would say, do it for the fun, the atmosphere. Bring a friendly attitude, a strong heart, a supportive partner, and an Imodium.
Well done, Zero! Proud of your achievement! 42 (or 43 as it turned out!) is a monumental effort, way more than I've ever done!
ReplyDeleteCongrats on slaying a life-goal! Those suckers don't pop up too often.
Much kudos. So run. Very proud.
ReplyDelete