This is my account of the Brighton Marathon 2015.
Sunday morning- 02:00hrs (12th April).
Things were not going according to how I had envisioned on the morning
of my first attempt at running a marathon in under three hours. Below my hotel
room was the steady thumping of disco music combined with the cacophony of
voices, laughter and cheering from a party that the hotel was hosting. I won’t
try to pretend to you that I remained calm. I wished I could say I had, but
even my intensive meditation this week could not contain my anger at being
placed right above a party. I had even asked the hotel to put us in a quiet
room. Things started to deteriorate for me when I started to hear the plumbing from
various other rooms. In the end I went down to complain to the duty manager of
the hotel; call me a spoil sport but they had a number of other guests staying who were running the
marathon that day and I felt well within my rights. Luckily I managed to
squeeze in four hours sleep, but I knew things were not going according to
plan. I knew I wasn’t in the right mind set, there was no doubt I was feeling
sorry for myself and was very frustrated, but I tried to be positive. I thought
about how champion runners would have dealt with the situation and realised
they would have got on with the job.
08:35hrs
I won’t go into all the detail of getting to the race start, but
needless to say the race atmosphere and everyone coming together for such a
great race improved my mood immeasurably. Unfortunately the Brighton Marathon
organisers had cut back on the number of loos at the start area, so I had to
queue for a long time and was not impressed. Still I had decided that I was not
going to be put off with any more negative thinking. I mean it was warm and the
sun was shining, what more could I want?
Well for it not be so warm and the sun not to be out so much at a
relatively early time of day. Luckily I had come prepared with spray sun tan lotion…
or I had until Gemma came to the press the button and nothing came out. We tried
to fix the suntan lotion for a good few minutes, but nothing worked. I would
just have to accept the heat along with the tiredness. I said good bye to Gem
and went into my race corral. At this point I must admit I was a bit naïve.
People in the corral had told me that the three hour pacer was quite far ahead,
but I thought I could catch up with him/ her.
09:15hrs
When the race began I realised that I may have wanted to position
myself further ahead, but I had no time for regrets (I was trying to be
positive!) Also I had no time for worrying about that, as the sheer number of
runners shooting off at the start was phenomenal. This was the first race I
intended to start off relatively quickly- at 06:51 min per mile- but there were
people really going for it. It became quite irritating, as I realised I had got
myself in quite a tough situation, whereby I was being blocked by slow runners
in front of me and inexperienced people surging up behind me. My pace was very
slow for the first mile (07:30 min per mile), but I knew I had to trust in my
training and not panic. What I did know is that I had to focus and figure out a
way of getting some space to improve my speed. Not the best start for my
sub-three hour attempt, but then all we can do is work with what we have been
given.
Beginning of the race
I set off with trying to find runners at my goal pace, but I have
always found the beginning of marathons strange and my third one was no
different. When I replay the three marathons I have run to date the thing that
always strikes me is how happy I am at the beginning- or at the very least
exhilarated. It’s not that I finish a marathon in some sort of pessimistic mess
far from it, I am usually ecstatic, but it sometimes feels as though I am
tricking myself into thinking that a marathon is just like any other run I am
doing. So the first few miles ticked over quite nicely. I knew I still had
loads of adrenaline pumping through me and it was nice to see my Garmin showing
that I was bringing my average pace down from 07:30 min per mile to 07:10. We
headed out of Brighton towards the golf course, passing mile 5, with still some
way to go before I found the golden 06:50 spot. I was feeling good; I knew my
tiredness was somewhere in the background, but I also knew that it could wait
until after the race. I was just passing mile 8 and finally my Garmin was
reading out that I was running an average pace of 06:52 min per mile. That
would be good enough for the time being, I wasn’t going to waste precious
energy trying to shave one second off here and there, when I knew I had two
thirds of the race left. One thing that did strike me was how erratic
everyone’s pace was, even mine for that matter. Consciously or not I had been running
for some of the miles well below 06:50, I knew this was a risky game to play
for the second half of the marathon. There were runners who were passing me and
runners who I was overtaking, but what I came to realise is that the only
person that I needed to concentrate on was myself.
Middle of the race
Luckily for me Gem had found a spot between mile 13 and 14. To any
spectators reading this I cannot tell you how much it means to be cheered on
when you are running a 26.2 mile race and when you can spot a face you know and
love in the crowd the feeling is nearly indescribable. It reminds you that you
are not running alone, but have someone there rooting for you and following you
around the course. You may think that sounds silly, but when you are tackling a
marathon for the first time or trying to beat your previous best, your loved
one’s support is invaluable. Even seemingly invincible ultra- runners – like
Scott Jurek- never fail to mention their support crew. When I saw Gem it gave me
a real boost, but I could tell when she gave me a gel that we were both
nervous. We knew that I still stood a chance of coming in at less than three
hours. By this stage space was really starting to open up between runners.
At this point I realised that I needed to listen, at least partially,
to my body as I could tell I was trying to push too hard too early in the race.
I had to put my ego back in the box and stick to the pace I had intended and by
this stage it was at 06:50 min per mile. It seems so simple once you get past
the half way point in a marathon- only 13 miles to go right? Just start
counting downwards? Sadly your body doesn’t see it like that, it knows that you
are going into a realm that will tax it and it doesn’t like it. I knew I had to
try and balance keeping my goal pace with conserving as much energy for the
final 6.2 miles of the race. I knew I was doing something right as I started to
spot runners with their number against a white background- these were the elite
runners for Brighton. From here on in
the race consisted of two out and backs; miles 15 to 18 were a relatively small
loop and then from mile 18 onwards was out to the industrial harbour of
Brighton to return to finish the race. This was where strength of mind was
going to determine things. It was at
mile 16 that I started to really feel things. The heat had been consistent
throughout the run and I was now starting to feel like I was burning on my face
as well as my shoulders. I decided to focus on something else, rather than
counting down the miles I tried to trick myself into thinking that I was just
running a 10 mile race.
End of the race
It was at mile 17 that I really felt like I was expending effort at
keeping my goal pace. Just keep with it,
I told myself, this is what your training
is all about. It was at that point
that I saw a sight that I always dread- runners peeling off and starting to
walk. I will freely admit that I am at least moderately competitive and like to
race against other runners. Though this drive will never outbalance the pain I
feel for other runners, who for whatever reason, have not been able to finish
their race running all the way. I have
experienced not being able to run any further in a long distance training
session and it is horrible. I also began
to feel quite lonely as I approached the last 9 miles of the marathon and runners
pulling out didn’t help. Furthermore I approached the dreaded miles of 19 to 22
that are horrible- there really is no other way of describing it. You go from
having loads of support from crowds in the main part of picturesque Brighton to
going to a dreary industrial harbour area, which feels like the middle of
nowhere with hardly any crowds. Having run Brighton before I had prepared
myself for this area; again I noticed more runners peeling off, but focussed on
carrying on my run. Mile 19 passed by, things
are going okay; Mile 20 went by.
Then things began to feel slower, but at this stage I wouldn’t say
harder. Larger spaces between runners began to appear as I approached mile 22.
That’s when it happened. The dreaded wall had finally come about. Everything
felt sluggish; I could really feel the heat. I looked at my watch, my mile was
becoming slower and I knew this would affect my average pace per mile as well
as my time. A voice inside my head started chattering away; you don’t need to keep up the pace…for all
you know you have probably missed getting under the three hour mark…what’s the
point if you don’t get that goal. The first thing I did was tell that voice
to shut up, concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and thought
about my layered goals. At this point I was too tired to do the calculations to
work out if I had missed the three hour mark, but decided that 03:05 was good
enough for me. I knew that I was going through the dreaded “wall”.
The funny thing about going through the wall is that the world changes.
In the first stages I always experience that negative chatterbox; I started
getting annoyed that Gem and my family had not found me yet, I cursed the hotel
for keeping me awake and scolded myself for not positioning myself correctly on
the start line. Then the chattering died down. I realised I had to accept the
situation that I was in and find a way to keep moving forward. I kept telling
myself that at this point it was all about how much pain I can take, remember; pain is inevitable suffering is optional.
Then in waves you start to feel your ego- your “self”, soul or whatever you
want to call it- leave you. Even though your body is telling you to stop, the
nagging becomes almost distant and all you really know is that you are putting
one foot in front of the other.
Then I was awakened from this dreamlike state, as I hear my family and
Gemma calling out to me- saying you are nearly there!- about a few hundred
metres from the end of the marathon. I summon everything I have and sprint
towards the end, my body is burning now (inside and out), all I can hear is the
cheer of the crowds and my ears ring. I cross the line and it hits me at how
exhausted I am as well as how hot I am. I collect my medal and shirt, almost in
a daze and speak to a runner I chatted with briefly during the race. It’s nice
to share those moments of success with someone who has achieved a similar time to
you.
Conclusion
My mind had given permission to my body to start allowing me to feel
pain. I start to feel stiff and weak all over my body. Gemma and my family
appear. I am enveloped in hugs and feel the joy of coming through my third
marathon. Gem tells me that my chip time was 03:01:35! I can’t quite believe it.
A year ago I did my first marathon in 03:31:48; I had beaten my first marathon
time by 30 minutes in what were far from ideal circumstances for a fast
marathon and improved by 18 minutes since my second marathon! It is then that I
realise my calves have had enough of me standing and I collapse onto the beach.
The feel and coolness of the pebbles and shells feel great. I feel like I want
to cry, but am so happy at the same time and most of all I want to rest. St
John’s Ambulance volunteers come over and ask if I am okay. I tell them I just
have cramp and am very touched by their concern, but feel foolish for attracting
such attention.
I know when I started writing this blog that my goal was to break the
three hour mark and that still is my goal. I know I narrowly missed my target
at the Brighton Marathon 2015, but I am proud of what I did. I embarked on a
new training programme, met new people, joined a running club (that I will
discuss in a later blog post) and pushed myself further as well as harder than
I ever would have felt possible. Above all, and I will leave it to your
judgement after reading this post, I would like to think that despite things
not going my way I kept a determined attitude to running this marathon. I look
forward to my next marathon attempt at breaking the three hour mark.
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