XXIII | Arise

When I signed up for not one, but two marathons within the space of one month of each other - the first thought was, why am I doing this again, and again? I think it's fascinating to think about the different mindsets that I've had whenever it comes to training for these events. One minute I think I'm very on top of my training, next minute I think I haven't done enough training when it's closer to the event, last minute I think what's the fucking point in any of this?! It's not until the very day while I'm running the marathon where I think, ah yes - this is why. Sometimes you just have to dig deep to remember what that why is.

Last year with the Brighton Marathon, as previously written - I had all sorts of different emotions. A sense of pride and relief is probably what I remember the most from that day. I don't even recall having a runner's high like I normally would after reaching a new distance. By the end of that run it was pure relief. I trained like never before towards the event, raised a bunch of money for a mental health charity, and I survived the race. That's all I wanted at the end of the day.

Running the Wellington Marathon on June 29th was quite a different experience, the same can be said in the events leading up to it. There weren't the pressures of raising money for charity and there wasn't the questioning of whether I could go the distance or not. I signed up for two marathons fairly close to each other for pretty simple reasoning; I did one last year - I'll do two close together this year. But leading up to the Wellington one, I did have my doubts about it.

My training was going fairly well within the first quarter of the year. I was doing half-marathons fairly frequently, with the intention of doing 30km ones closer to the event. But between training and my job, both were really starting to affect my lower back. I've had back issues on and off over the last couple of years. Usually coming about after a series of consistent long-distance running, coincidence? Turns out it wasn’t. I was quite stubborn, thinking that the back issues would miraculously fade over time by making tweaks to my posture. I slacked off with my training within the six weeks before the marathon because of the grief it was giving me. It wasn't until two weeks before the marathon where I felt like I had to make a choice. Do I pull out of this marathon, and just focus on training in time for the Taupo one? Or do I just say fuck it? I hate to admit that I was leaning towards the former. These questions just came about after I ran a 21km two weeks before the Wellington marathon, where despite performing well - I was in a lot of pain just from that half marathon distance. Why on earth am I even putting myself through this? What have I got to prove? I caught myself acting like an absolute bitch after that training session. It's times like that when I remember that this is not the person I wish to be. I want this, I need this. It's like some kind of psychological link to the past where I would have no shame in quitting things that I cared about. The source of anger and disappointment that fuel this current version of myself. To me, running is proving to myself in to thinking that I am strong. That I won't give up on something that I care about without a fight. After having a moment and calming myself down a bit, I thought that at the very least I should try and come up with a solution before making a conclusion. So, I decided to have my job organise a physio for me, to at least understand what is going on with my back and what I needed to do about it. I then made the decision to run an easy paced 30km for weekend prior to the marathon. If I think that I can endure more than that following this run, then game-on baby. 

I asked a couple of the boys if they wanted to tag a long during parts of my 30km run on a Saturday. To my surprise, Pita said he'd run all of it with me. He's a beast to say the least, but the furthest he's ever ran was 21km - most recently about four months ago. I knew he'd be able to do it, but I was curious to see how he'd feel in the latter stages of the run. I tried to emphasise how much more difficult running gets beyond the half marathon point, but he continued to insist that he would do it with me. He's doing the Taupo marathon in August as well, so it's good training for him too. In the early stages of our run, Pita actually requested to run 32km instead because that's the circumference distance of Rarotonga. I didn't mind and approved. Although I'm fairly certain he meant the radius of Rarotonga (I just googled this, it's the bloody circumference). We sat at a Zone 2 heart rate zone for nearly all of the run, barely breaking a sweat in the shit Wellington weather conditions for the most part. Unfortunately, my back started to have issues at around the 15km mark, which was concerning for both this run and the intention of doing the Wellington marathon the following weekend. Pita and I are both far too stubborn to cut the run shorter as we both firmly agreed on 32km. I could tell that we both started to really struggle around the 26km mark, because from there we had barely said a word to each other. I appreciated Pita coming along and was proud of him for smashing what was a new distance for him. We were too wrecked to walk to the beach for a swim, so we got Karlos and Dion to pick us up and had coffees at Empire.

A few of the boys have really stepped up when it comes this kind of thing recently. Cameron was originally meant to do the Taupo half-marathon but then changed to do the full marathon. He was already well on top of his training for a half, so a few months ago I tried to push him to do the full marathon instead. After some convincing from Pita and I, he made the switch - much to our excitement. The day before Pita and I ran 32km, Elliot completed his longest run. I agreed to give him a lift home once he'd complete a 17km run. As he was running, he texted me saying he's going to do a half-marathon instead. I for one didn't think he even had the legs for a 17km, let alone a 21km. Purely from a training perspective, he hadn't done more than a couple of 10km runs recently. I thought that much more than a 12-15km would have been fairly ambitious for him. To my delight he proved me wrong though, I was bloody stoked for him. He didn't look like he had just run his first 21km too, which was also impressive. I congratulated him as I arrived at his destination but cheekily warned him that he now has to jump into the freezing cold ocean that is Island Bay beach- if only for a second if he truly wants to feel alive. He didn't argue to that, but he questioned my theory of how he would feel after a swim. Ironically, he was saying how buzzed he felt when he jumped out of the sea. Between seeing him buzzing about his achievement and running with Pita over this weekend - I went with the fuck it option.

After the 32km run, I played it safe and didn't do any kind of running in between then and the marathon. By the time 29th June rolled by, I was ready to go. The start line was roughly two kilometres from my flat, so I figured it was a good time for a light warm-up jog/walk to get there. I didn't have too many nerves about this race, I felt good and well-rested. My confidence to finish was just fine. I did have my reservations towards what my time could be though. I couldn't help but think that this could almost be a waste of time if I don't surpass the time I ran in Brighton, especially with it being so close to a sub-4-hour time back then. Either way, this is training for Taupo whether I saw it that way or not. Knowing that I did far less training than I had done last year, the only saving grace I could see this time is that I've been here before. I had complete faith in my engine, no issues there. My back and legs are what are inevitably going to affect me in this run. If I could at least delay the severity of the pain that is to come to me, then there's a good chance that I could even get a PB. I didn't want to go too fast or too slow. I'd be gassed by the 25km mark if I tried to sit at anything quicker than a 4:50p/km pace, but anything slower than 5:40p/km is too slow for me to sit on, plus that wouldn't get me a sub-4hr time. Longer time on my legs means the pain will arrive at an earlier distance, despite putting in less effort. I realised that during my slower runs, and especially in the 32km run with Pita. I wanted to sit somewhere around the 5:10-5:20 average for most of the race, where I'd most likely start to slowly drop in pace after the mid-to-late-20km mark. The way I thought towards this run was much different compared to Brighton. I had no strategy last year; I just wanted to finish the fucking thing.

I felt very comfortable for a lot of the race. I managed to hover around the 5:10-5:20p/km pace for the first 26km, which was according to plan. The pace dipped a little bit after that point. until it really started to dip in the last few kilometres of the race. By the 35km mark I knew that I had a sub-4hr time in the bag, I believed that I could have even gotten 3:50 or under if my pace weren't to drop too much from then on. The back felt uncomfortable the entire time, but I really started to feel it in the last 5km or so. What had me worried was the last 3km. My left calf muscle began to feel very tight, then quickly after so did my left groin. Before the 40km mark - my left quadricep muscle was really in pain too. I couldn't put much weight on that side of my body at all. The body was really starting to feel the effects of this distance now. I felt like Goku when he ran out of Ultra Instinct during his last fight with Jiren. Fuck! Can I still get my sub-4hr?! My pace had dropped right down to roughly a 6:30 average for the last few km's. When I stopped stressing out about reaching my target time, I realised that there were 12 minutes left for me to get a sub-4hr time as I entered my final kilometre. I realised that even if I had to walk some of this last kilometre - I should still be able to get a sub-4hr time. But then it hit me. Hang on, I haven't stopped or walked at all across this marathon! Fuck walking when I'm nearly there! It wasn't an official goal of mine, but I wasn't happy that I walked a few times during the Brighton marathon. I barely did at all, but it's something that bothered me from that race. Now was the time to make up for that. Realising that I hadn't stopped running at all this late in the race gave me a bit of a mental boost, I've got this. I felt and looked very composed throughout most of the race. But man, I was limping, grunting, and quietly swearing to myself during that last kilometre. I was in far more pain than I ever was for the Brighton marathon, but thankfully this occurred during the end of the race. As I approached the finish line through a crowd at Sky Stadium, I tried to give one last burst of pace to finish this thing off. That lasted for all but three seconds before I realised that wasn't going to happen. A group of friends were cheering me towards the finish line, though I couldn't hear them and had no idea they were there - as proven via video. I must have been fairly locked-in, because they wouldn't have been difficult to point out! Within the last 100m I looked up at the official timer above the finish line and saw 3:55. I was so happy, and relieved. I crossed the finish line, got my medal, and walked as slow a 90-year-old for the next couple of days.

I had the official time of 3:55:27. I was bloody stoked. Two weeks ago, I had believed that I was going to pull out of the event due to niggle concerns and lack of training. But on this day, I smashed more than one goal. I got the sub-4hr time I had wanted, and I didn't walk or stop at all - a goal I didn't realise I had until the final moments of the race. All that with a less than desirable amount of training behind me. It was another rare moment where I was really proud of myself. Probably even more so than when I completed my first marathon. My first marathon felt like I was trying to survive out in uncharted territory. While this marathon felt like a fight to win. There was so much more doubt in my mind as I headed into this event. Doubt that I wouldn't accomplish my goals after thinking about them so often throughout the year. I was victorious in reaching my goal despite so much doubt. I won't forget this one.

Next up is the Taupo Marathon on August 2nd where a group of us will be travelling over to participate. I'm looking forward to this one very much. The sticky note on my bedroom wall says that the goal is to get a sub-3:30 time for Taupo. I wrote this at the beginning of the year, and at this point I think it's a very ambitious goal for me - but not an impossible one. The thought of cutting more than 25 minutes off of a previous personal best from a month prior is pretty mental. But what's the point in chasing a goal if I don't have doubts about reaching it? Training will be resuming and ramped up from tomorrow onwards, and I'm taking my physio stretches seriously. Once I smash the Taupo marathon, I will then focus on my first Ultra-Marathon.