Munich Marathon
“All we have is the here and now”, was my thought as I stood in my starting pen and shuffled towards the start. 8 minutes to go. I kept my warm layers on until 3 minutes to go, when I then handed them to a volunteer who was promptly collecting the donation clothes from the railings. The training was done and weirdly no longer mattered. Whatever the build to a race, you still only have each moment as it comes. I looked around and observed the spectators who were all eagerly watching us. My eyes momentarily locked with a lady a couple of rows back in the spectator crowd. She looked deep into me, smiled, and nodded. No words exchanged, just a moment of belief. She saw it; I felt it. I just had to keep focused on the here and now. No worrying about that was to come, no regret of what has been.
Following the sound of the gun the masses started to move. I found my goal pace within seconds, thought about the effort, and pledged myself to sit there. The city and course was unknown to me. It didn’t matter, the sound and the rhythm of the footsteps surrounding me was all I needed. Within a couple of KMs the course had thinned out nicely and there was no hustling for space. I had the room to run my race. I was free.
The runners around me came and went. There were sections that I was in a tight pack, and sections where I was completely solo. The volunteers were relentless with their enthusiasm at each aid station, despite the downpours. Likewise the spectators continued to cheer and dance throughout the 42.2km. I made an effort to thank as many people as I could along the way. Especially when the crowd would shout “a female” and raw with excitement at my appearance. Fully, and shamelessly, using the low attendance of female runners to my advantage.
The external help was in abundance. I also had Jack cycling about on the course, popping up at every marker he had committed to. And my parents can very proudly tell you they saw my 5 times. They did! Incredible really, as they had spent the prior 48 hours constantly lost in Munich.
I have previously discovered in prior races that the external factors are entirely redundant if my internal factors are off. No matter how many times someone else tells you that you can do something, you won’t until you believe it yourself.
Running is a very bizarre sport; most sports are to be honest. About 6 months ago, I did a lot of soul searching as to what running meant to me and how I wanted to show up in the sport. After decorating my kitchen table in large sheets of paper and scribbling away for hours; my conclusion was to run with freedom and not fear.
I cruised through the half way point with freedom. I flicked my watch screen to see what the time was. 1 hour 30 minutes. My mind flashed back to Richmond Park where I ran my first half marathon in a time of 1 hour 45 minutes. I gave that race my all. Pretty cool progress I thought. I then flicked my watched back to my “40 minute blocks” screen. A tactic that I had picked up this training block to help me remember to fuel. Simply lapping my watch every 40 minutes and consuming a gel. In doing so, it meant that I never saw total time or distance during the race. My pace I did see, but it didn’t fluctuate much. As Marcus had reminded me “pole pole”. I was “pole pole”, so I simply kept going.
There is a point in each marathon where it gets hard. Very hard. Often it comes on like a switch. For me, that was about 32km in Munich. By this point, I was drenched through, had been hit in the face a couple of times by tree debris, my knee was niggling at me, and the headwinds would swap to crosswinds and back again. I glanced down at my watch, I had slowed by a couple of seconds per KM, but I was somewhat stunned and proud that I was simply still going. I wasn’t letting up.
Tom Walker said to me in the darkness of Al Qudra one ITD evening, “you earn the right to the last 10km of a marathon”. It was here, right now. The external factors trying to play with my mind, but I knew I just had to keep going, keep believing.
I had visualised the last 10KM of this route on Google StreetView. (Thank you John Fahy for your wise idea here). I turned left at the Lidl and thought “I know where I am.” I just had to hold on until the left hand turn back into the Olympic Park. I knew when I got there I was on the “home straight”. A bike pulled ip next to me. Jack, of course. Also wet through, but smiling. I don’t think I was smiling anymore. I was trying to “send it”. He politely left me to it, told me to keep picking people off, and found me again at 41KM.
He was right, I was closing in on people, and one by one, overtaking them. I hadn’t even realised. After 41KM, I did flick my watch back to see the total time. 2:58. I don’t know that I was really expecting to see, after all I knew my average pace was sitting around 4:18 KM pace. But I felt a huge wave of pride, excitement, relief, mixed with exhaustion. I just needed to hold on a little longer and it was going to be a PB.
I didn’t want to cramp or fall, but I did want to empty the tank. One more KM of work; I could do that. I picked off a few more guys, but couldn’t quite get the lady in front of me; crossing the line in 3:03:38 in 13th place. “Fuck yeah!!!!” As Emma Buckley’s son would say…! I scanned around the finish area with blurry eyes looking for Jack. But it was runners only. Several men came up to me and shook my hand, and I downed two waters. Emotions were high; feeling so happy, yet so sad at the same time, that something was over. A rollercoaster on a whole new level. I staggered my way to warmer and dryer conditions, and later exited the changing rooms to my parents and Jack cheering at me.
Marathons have a special place in my heart. Being able to share this with others on IFE on Tour is a huge privilege. Individual sport; I think not.
Thank you to all those who help me keep putting one foot in front of another.
