It has been a week since I ran the
21km at the Milton Keynes Half-Marathon and more or less 4 months since I’ve
started with the running “thing”. Oh gosh, it feels longer. All the endless long
runs on the weekends, the knee pains, the hip pains, the back pains. But I
finished. Yes, I did :-) I know my timing was horrible, 2:50, but I am proud to
say that I crossed that finish line without walking any bit of the route.
Anyway, let me tell you the whole
story. The stress started 24 hours earlier. Everyone who knows me can testify
that I am a super-prepared person. I plan everything of anything. I am that
kind of neurotic who wakes up 1 hour earlier just to make sure nothing will
happen on the way and start to freak out if the train is 2 minutes delayed.
Anyway, when I did a last check at the TFL website just to make sure of my
commuting on the next day, the journey London-Milton Keynes was taking 3h30
instead of the supposedly regular 2h because it was a Bank Holiday. What? 3h30?
I would have to wake up before 5h to be there on time.
After my total panic-tears-despair
moment, my guardian angel/savior aka superman suggested ‘why don’t we rent a
car?'. OMG! Really? How could I have not thought of it before? I will jump the
part that the service at Hertz was a completely nightmare - and we were
mistreated by a stupid and rude receptionist - straight to the relief that was
arriving at Milton Keynes on time.
After 1h30 we finally arrived
there… and the weather was great! Sunshine and it was about 16 degrees with a
forecast of 18C. While Andre was parking I had to go to the start line because
the traffic around the stadium was worse than we were expecting. I did my final
toilet run, clipped the number on my shirt and adjusted my Polar heart rate
belt. It was time!
(Of course, my useless IPhone
decided to eat almost all the battery before the race had even started.
Consequently, I would have to run without using the Nike Running app so I could
have enough battery to listen to some music all the way.)
Punctually at 10am it started. The
beginning was very crowded but that is how every race probably is. I read that
there were about 3,000 people running the marathon and 2,000 the half, and we
all started together.
Since my app was not working and I
had nothing to indicate my speed or distance, I tried to keep my eyes on the
marathon pace makers as much as I could. I started keeping up with the 3h45,
but I lost him. Then the 4h, but he was too fast as well (damn it!). 4h20,
4h45. All gone. Finally I found the 5h, which I managed to stay close at least
during the first 10km.
Picture stolen from Google just to show what a pacemaker is - blue ballon :-) |
Talking about the first 10km, they
were the easiest part. Everyone was still happy, together, full of energy,
smiling and cheering. But between the 11km and the 17km, oh jesus, it felt like
a horror film. For several different and random reasons. First, the “amazing”
weather and the 18 degrees just made things worse. It was freaking hot and I
was used to run below 10C, with winds and rain. Second, my knees started to
hurt like crazy. Third, part of the route was in a beautiful open field full of
DAMN POLLEN!!!!!!! Yes, pollen!!!!!!! My eyes got so watery that I started
laughing because it felt like a really bad joke. And last, the hills. Ok, there
were no HILLLLLLLS per se, but half the way was slightly inclined and everyone who
runs on a treadmill knows the painfully difference of the treadmill completely
horizontal and with some inclination.
Anyway, fatigue totally got me
between the 11km to the 17km and that was when my speed went completely down. I
was so slow that sexagenarians were passing me easily. I thought I wouldn’t
make it. I thought what the hell I was doing there and why on earth I signed up
for something like that.
However, when I thought that all my
energy was gone, something miraculously happened. I finally got to the point
when you turn your brain off and you just run. It took a while, just after the
17km, but I was finally there. I didn’t care about timing anymore, about the
pain, about old people passing me or how slow and clumsy I was looking like. I
just ran. And ran, and ran. I managed to improve my speed a bit (not enough,
but who cares?) and when I realized, the stadium and the finish line were
already on my sight.
It was endless. I was sore and when
I finished and slowed down it was like I would never be able to walk to the
car. But the feeling. The feeling was indescribable. I could try to explain but
I don’t know if words would never be able to honestly describe what goes inside
your head when you finally cross that finish line, when you see someone important
to you there waiting for your arrival, proud of your accomplishment. No, my
spirit did not change. No, it was not a life changing experience. No, I don’t
know if I will ever have the courage to do that again. But it was fucking
awesome. I set a goal and I reached. That was all. I actually did it.
The final score? Two toenails completely
dead and five blisters the size of a car, but I will call them “battle scars”,
it sounds better :-) After a week my right knee is still showing signs of
misuse but the blisters - and unfortunately the toenails - are already gone. I
am happy that I did it. I finally did it. The horrible sensations of the
11-17km are still very vivid on my head so I cannot say that I will run such a
long distance again. But I cannot say that I won’t neither. I don’t know. I
think that after a while you probably forget the bad feelings and concentrate
on the satisfactory ones, so you sign up for something like this again and
again. That is at least what some people say.
I hope I will be brave enough one
day to run a whole marathon. 42km. It makes me lazy just to think about it.
Just the idea hurts, but I am sure it is because the 21km are still too recent.
Let’s see what the future holds. I may delete this post one day just to forget
the pain I suffered and do it all over again. I really hope I do.
The route. |