It was a clear, cold and crisp Sunday morning. My heart was beating
hard, but I was still able to breathe pretty evenly as I was nearing the final part
of my 14 mile marathon pace run. The air was cold and my lungs were burning,
but I felt great. I had lost track of time and all I could remember was that I
had been doing roughly 7 minute miles. Just then the metallic and monotonous
voice of Run Keeper came out of
nowhere stating: “Time: 1 hour and 30 minutes, Distance: 13.1….”At that moment
I stopped listening, I had just run my first half marathon in under one and
half hours - on a training run! The neutral tone of Run Keeper went from the familiar voice I had listened to for miles
and miles, to a well-known veteran sports commentator who had just announced a
sportsman winning the world cup prize in their field. All at once I was
reassured, surprised and happy that I had made a significant step towards
standing a reasonable chance of running a marathon in under 3 hours. I punched
the air I was that happy and I just couldn’t quite believe it. During this
golden moment I thought about how I had got to this milestone and a number of
recent training memories came back into mind; some good some bad, but one in
particular stood out.
Whilst I was warming down I realised things hadn’t always been easy up
to this run. In this brief moment of celebration I was planning how to build
upon this training run success, but I was also looking back to how I got to
this stage. One particular training run that took place a number of weeks prior
to my happy achievement today would not let me be. I felt uncomfortable even
thinking about what had happened that day, there was a part of me- my ego of
course- that wished it had never happened. On deeper reflection I now realise
that I had created the perfect storm mentally and physically for myself during
that run prior to my success. To sum it up in one sentence: I had lost my way
about running and strived for something that was not practical, nor was I doing
it for the right reasons. The colloquial statement for what happened on that
training run was that I had ‘bonked’. In other words I had not properly eaten
prior to the run and had not fuelled myself during the run; resulting in me having
low blood sugar and not being able to run for the 12 miles I had aimed for, let
alone at any pace that I was aiming for that day.
I would not call this training run an ‘incident’, as I did not injure
myself and nothing dramatic happened. I can still recall how I felt and what I
was thinking when I realised that something was wrong with my running. The
first sign that something wasn’t quite right was when I got lost running round
Regent’s Park; ultimately manifesting itself in the fact that I thought I had
run round the outside of the park, but in fact had doubled back on myself.
Usually I am relatively calm when running. I am devoting so much energy to
running that I find it too hard to become angry. When I realised I had got lost on my running route
I was at once filled with anger and despair. This was a definite indication
that something was seriously wrong. I also noted that my mental state was not
at all positive, rather than looking at the situation as something to turn
around (that I usually do when running) I was frantically trying to figure out
how many miles left until I could get home. At this very moment, like the
emergency safety systems on a spacecraft in a film, the icy voice of Run Keeper pronounced that my pace was
slowing and I had quite few miles left before I could stop running. I felt like
a doomed sailor on a sinking ship, where all they can see is the sea water
slowly come in from all sides of the ship and eventually overwhelming it.
Despite all of this I pushed on, realising that my pace was getting slower and
slower. In my mind I was fighting a mental battle to keep on going, but because
of how I viewed this run and being overambitious I was slowly losing the will
to see this run through to the end. More disturbingly my legs started to feel
like two long sticks of concrete, each step was becoming increasingly harder to
take. The anxiety about this feeling in my legs was heightened when I realised
that I was breathing perfectly fine. Like a plane running out of fuel, I was
about to go in for a crash landing and that crash happened just after mile 10.
I can still remember it now; I did not stumble or fall over when I decided to
stop running, I merely decided that it would probably be a good idea to stop
running at this point. It was definitely a mental decision, of course I had not
fuelled myself properly for this run, but at another level I had just given up
on this particular run.
When I finally slowed to a walk and stopped Run Keeper I looked around anxiously, half expecting passers-by to
point accusingly at me as some sort of failure. Nothing happened, people just
carried on with their Sunday afternoon as normal. My initial thoughts and
feelings were annoyance and disgruntlement. What had gone wrong? This has never
happened before? Will it happen again? Why can I not go any further? Those were
just some of the questions swirling around me in my head. I am slightly ashamed
to say that I was pretty angry as well, but I was so exhausted that this
feeling passed quite quickly. After walking for maybe half a mile, then trying
to run again and failing dismally; I realised that I had to move beyond my
initial reactions and understand what had happened so that I might learn from
this. I was determined not to be furious with myself, but just to try and see
what had happened. So on my 2 mile walk home I finally came to recognise the
true feelings about this run that were; exhaustion, humility and that I needed
to understand what had happened to cause me to ‘bonk’. When I got home I
chatted things through with my fiancée, Gem, and it became clear that there
wasn’t one single factor- but a whole host of reasons for the dire end to my
run that day.
Like the Stockdale paradox that I mentioned in one of my previous posts I had to face the
uncomfortable reality of where things had gone wrong on this run. The first
harsh truth was that mentally I had not committed myself to the run for the
right reasons. This was because I have a few running friends who enjoy and
train as seriously for running as I do. We also have similar running abilities
so there is a healthy amount of competition between us. When I announced that I
was going to try and complete a marathon in under 3 hours, they said that this
might be too difficult for me and said at the very least I might need some more
training. I took this as a personal criticism of myself and my running;
culminating in this failed training run attempt. I had commenced this run with
the attitude that I would prove them wrong. What I came to realise is that even
though this desire to prove them wrong is useful for a short-term burst of
angry speed, it will not help on a long distance training run. Eventually as
your mind and body settle into a natural rhythm everything unnecessary gets
stripped away, my ego’s annoyance at what other people had said being one of
those things that melted away. So when things got tough with the run I didn’t
really have anything to fall back on, to keep me going when my body was
starting to give up. I learnt an important lesson that I can only run when I am
doing it for the right reasons.
The other causes for this disastrous training run were that you can
have the best mental preparation for a run, but if you have not eaten properly
then you are pretty likely to have a poor outcome for that run. The type of
food and how much you eat, for me anyway, is of vital importance. I had
committed a basic error of nutrition by not eating properly before this run and
I had paid the price by not having sufficient energy levels to complete the 12
miles. Also I had recently switched my diet to a predominantly vegetarian/
vegan diet, which now is amazing for my recovery, but at that time my body was
finding the sudden adjustment quite tiring. In a way I had failed to listen to
my body and instead pursued an egotistical goal. After reviewing these causes
for my failed training run, I felt more at peace with why things had gone wrong
and consequently I passed out/ fell asleep.
When I woke up that evening I felt like I had let go of the negative
consequences of this run and had accepted the reasons why this had happened. It
may sound perverse, but I was grateful for the run; it had given me a chance to
reflect and then review my running. This was something that I had not done for
a long time and now realise I was desperately in need of. It has helped me
clarify why I am aiming for this goal of doing a marathon in under 3 hours, not
because I want to prove people wrong, but to see how far I can push myself and
strive for something greater. I think the most haunting thing that the run has
left with me is a healthy respect for how much I need to prepare before going
on a big run. Now before I venture out on a big run I can usually hear the
distant voice in my head, like some siren’s call from Greek mythology, saying:
‘Remember that training run and the
danger that awaits you!’ I know that sounds melodramatic, and it probably
is; but it is this voice that makes me aware of eating well before a race,
being alert to any areas that I could improve in my running and ultimately to
run for the right reasons- my own rather than anyone else’s. Ultimately I am
glad it happened, as I believe it will help me on the way to achieving my
marathon goal. I came across this Robert Frost poem- The Road Not Taken- below and on that failed training run I’d like
to think that I took a different route to improving my training.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
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