Milan Marathon April 2022
Two pieces of advise I think about often:
Don’t make a decision on something when you are emotionally high or low
Don’t race as a punishment for a prior race
Both stuck with me. I had unfinished business with the Marathon distance after Abu Dhabi in November 2021, but I was aware that I needed to be ready and embarking on the journey for the right reasons.
At the end of the 2021 I was offered an entry into the Milan Marathon, and at the end of January I went ahead and submitted my entry.
I kept this race to myself and my coach(es), as I wanted to run for me, and I didn’t want the pressure that can come from racing. Although people mean well, I didn’t want the constant “how’s the training going?” questions. I am fully aware that my pressure is self inflicted, but this was still my way of helping to remove it.
At the beginning of this year I made a commitment that I was going to apply more honesty to my training. This meant being more aware of what was working, and more importantly, what was not. I therefore asked for help in areas that I knew I needed assistance, as I realised that I was only hindering myself by being too proud to ask. In turn, I created far more context around my training sessions, which aided in identifying areas that might be impacting my performance and/or enjoyment. After all, if I wasn’t having fun, then what was I doing this all for?
Three weeks before the marathon my green TrainingPeaks came to a halt, due to a calf niggle on my way back from a Track Tuesday session. So I was pretty much chopped straight into taper and rehab, with the new goal of getting pain free for the start line of Milan Marathon. It felt odd to not be running. Whilst deep down I knew I wasn’t exactly going to lose fitness, it still felt unnerving. I was concerned. Huge thanks to Tamara at DISC for the treatment and check-ins.
Packing for Milan was in turn a bit strange, packing for an overseas race that I didn’t know if I was able to run. Jack pulled me back to reality, told me I would be fine, and worst case I get to watch him. Which actually wouldn’t be all bad at all! Jack running his first official marathon made me excited, and I wanted to see him do well.
We made it to Italy, and I had the green light to test out an easy run on the calf. Firstly, Italy was freezing, so I think I spent more time thinking about how cold I was as opposed to over analysing how my calf felt, or running with a compensation. Either way, I was pain free, which was a huge relief. I proceeded to bash out a couple more easy runs in the days before the marathon. As we edged close to the race day, I started to focus on the fact that I would indeed be on the start line, and mentally prepared for getting to the finish line.
Race morning appeared and I was excited, yet calm. I didn’t feel nervous, there was nothing to be nervous about. I had a plan, it was simple. I knew there would be moments during the 42.2km that it would feel hard, and that was OK. I have started to realise that being nervous is wasted energy. Yeah, things might not go to plan, but as long as I adapt and try my best, what more can I ask for? Do I have marathon time goals in mind, yeah sure I do! Will I be able to tick them all off in one race? Absolutely not. But that just means I need to keep working at what I love, and run more marathons in the years to come. Perfect!
We walked to the Metro to utilise the free public transport to the start, and we spoke about how it felt weird not going to meet a crew of InnerFight athletes at a random pin location. It was just us. It was cold, but the sky was clear, and the rain that had been forecast was no longer due to appear.
Once we got to the park entrance gate I instantly noticed that everyone there was male. I wasn’t imaging this, there were only 991 females in the race out of 6,549 runners (15%), crazy! The park soon filled with runners, who all bumbled about trying to keep warm. People were dressed in bin bags and old clothes that they would whip off last minute on the start line. We too, had planned ahead and were wearing some old race t-shirts that we could keep on until the gun went. Jack and I pushed our way through the crowds towards our starting pens, had a quick hug and kiss then went our separate ways.
When it was announced “1 minute to go” additional items of clothing were launched up in the air from all directions and lobbed to the sides, it was like seeing items fly around at a festival. I copied and edged forwards with the others. Mentally I was ready to run; physically I was still freezing, which was perhaps less than ideal.
The first couple of KMs were crowded, but it was amazing. As a pack, we distanced ourselves away from the start line music and hundreds of footsteps echoed down the street. The number of people surrounding me gradually thinned, but my confidence didn’t. I was still amongst runners all heading in the same direction, for various reasons. We didn’t speak the same language, but we were connected. There were patches of cobble stones, and I used these to my advantage to try and think about my running form and keep my pace slow/sustainable.
Throughout the course I was bombarded with cheers from strangers (usually females) who were so excited to see another female. They had no idea who I was, it was mutual. Their enthusiasm in shouting “Brava” or “femmina” at me was uplifting, and their energy was infectious. It made me think about why there were so few females in this race, and what the average % splits of male:female are in other marathons. Do women think they don’t belong here? Are they scared of the distance? Perhaps men “need” marathons more than women. I thought about our runners at Ladies Run Club, and I smiled at the thought of knowing that any one of them could be here running this race. Yes, any one of them!
The first 22KM were a dream. I was relaxed and the KMs whizzed by; everything was feeling amazing. Classic marathon tricking me there! I was running down an empty stretch of road, and suddenly felt nauseous, about 500m later I threw up! The inspirational cheers were still in my head, I thought, “Brava Steph!” and well, carried on. Within about a KM a female runner pulled up next to me and matched my stride. We ran together for a couple of KMs which was so refreshing and motivating. We pushed and pulled each other along, and when I dropped back she turned to me, said something in Italian and nodded her head forward. I matched her back and we ran on a little further together. I glanced at my watch, 4:05. Now, whilst it was fun, I knew this pace was not sustainable for me. I smiled and let her go. I wondered if I even cared, had I lost my competitive edge? I wasn’t really sure, nor sure if it even mattered.
As I tried to pull my pace back to “normal” I started to feel more and more nauseous with every step. I knew not to get too caught up on a pace goal, and to go on feel. But I was not feeling good. I made the (arguably wrong) decision to stop fuelling. The thought of consuming another gel made me want to vomit again. I gradually therefore felt weaker each KM, and it was not a great time to start thinking that I should have probably been lifting heavier in my strength sessions.
I was not even at 30KM, I was not expecting to feel this rough, this early. My mind was drifting, I had started to clock watch, and was getting frustrated that the course was coming in “long”. 25km - 33km were much of a blur. I gave myself the occasional talking to, but I couldn’t shake the realisation that I felt dead on my feet. I didn’t feel like I was running anymore, I was just surviving. I thought about Jack, I wondered how his race was going, and if he might catch-up with me, as my pace was slowing. This thought made me push to not let me average pace drop further. I guess some of the competitiveness is still in me!
With less than 10KM to go, I knew I needed to eat something, I had no energy. In hindsight, I should have realised at some point I could have taken on the real food that they had at the aid stations. Instead, I pulled another gel out of my pocket, and downed it in desperation and hope. Placebo effect, perhaps, but I could suddenly think again. My legs stopped feeling like lead, and whilst it was still hard, I reminded myself that I about 3 weeks ago I had told Marcus that I was “looking forward to the marathon being hard”.
The sun was out, and I hoped my cold legs would thaw out (they didn’t), there was a cold breeze in my face, which seemed refreshing and helped with the nausea. I thought about the intense heat in the UAE and I counted my blessing that I wasn’t in that. I felt like I was running again, and I was present. I had stopped looking at my watch, and remembered why I even wanted to run this marathon. I even caught back up with some other runners.
The "3.5km of course cobbles" were back in the last couple of KMs, dotted around the city as I edged closer to the finish. Whilst I used this cobbles at the beginning to help me start off at steady pace, I was less appreciative of them second time around. I hit one wrong and instantly felt my right hamstring cramp. I thought, “absolutely not, Brava Steph”, this was not how this marathon ended for me. I grabbed my hamstring with my hand, sort of massaged it, and did my best to not think about it.
Before I knew it, there was a sign “500m” to go. Amazing….! I looked at my watch and realised I had in fact already run the distance of a marathon, but that’s life. It was time to go. I know it makes little difference to a marathon time, but I love emptying the tank and feeling like I am finishing strong, and I know a crowd also love to see it. So, I dug deep and pushed to the end, the noise from the crowd was deafening.
As I got closer to the finish line, I felt a lot. I was happy, yet sad. Happy to have finished (and with PB), but sad it was over. Strange to think, as I definitely wanted it to be over at about 25KM in. Both my hamstrings cramped as I crossed the line and stopped my watch. My feeling became contentment. I wasn’t over the moon, but I certainly wasn’t disappointed.
This block of training has been my most enjoyable to date. Huge shoutout to the 3 wise men who have been helping me behind the scenes. My Coach, Shane, for all the programming, guidance, and calls; Marcus for the numerous chats, runs, and questions; and to Jack for everything.
