Over the past week I've been trying to rev myself up for the Melbourne marathon festival half marathon. You'd think doing this particular race along the same course as last year, and a being a fast, flat course would make going into this year's event feel more comfortable. Let me tell you - it most definitely wasn't. All things considered, I hadn't put in the kilometers of training I should have this year due to commitments with my Pilates and Personal Trainer courses, as well as making time to work on my Wellness Coaching, working full time as a Teacher and of course still being able to give myself a 'break' (I say this in commas, as this was a little sporadic at the best of times) and spend some quality time with family and friends. But - knowing that you have done a decent job at finishing in a solid time last year just adds the pressure that little bit more.
Last week I was writing my ten page application to teach on another one year contract at my school, sitting in an interview to be a level coordinator (and waiting patiently to find out whether this turned out to have a positive - thank goodness it did!!!) and fitting in any spare moment to study for my upcoming Pilates exam. I won't lie - it got busy, especially coming off the back of a big Sunday of drinking some very delicious bottles of Moet and Chandon to celebrate our engagement with my fiancee's family. Doing all of this in style - comes with being a perfectionist. While over-committing yourself is difficult for most - my natural introverted, but competitive spirit does this quite regularly and aims to do the best it possibly can in each of the 'to do list' jobs.
Back to the run - all week I'd been trying to psych myself up to be able to run the distance. In a spur of the moment, 'I'm feeling good' afternoon about a month ago, and knowing that 6 other workmates had entered the race, I signed up, paid the $110 entry fee and planted the seed for the anxious butterflies to grow for today's half marathon. In my mind (at the time) - even if I crossed the line and took it easy, it'd be fun. As I was saying before, 'taking it easy' and just doing it to cross the line isn't always as easy as it should be.
I had a couple of good runs pre-Bali, and felt more confident with the thought that the race was still 3 weeks away. A few 8.5km beach runs and weights sessions over the ten day holiday period would surely be enough to hold the body in good stead until we returned. The second day back in the 'homeland', I laced up the runners and head out the door with plans to run 15km minimum. One hour later - I returned gasping for air, and virtually lifting each leg with my hands throughout the motions of the final stretch home.
Ok - so first run back, the legs will start to get better with a couple of runs behind them.
Oh - how I was wrong!!
My panic alarm started to sound. I went out and purchased a new, lighter pair of shoes in an effort to try and trick my legs into thinking the run was getting easier. Murphy's law - after one run in those, I was back at the running shop buying a second pair as they felt much bigger running than when I had a quick 'trot' on the treadmill in the shop.
I brought myself a new pair of fancy, bright pink running socks, a new fluro purple visor, ate like I'd never nutritiously eaten before, self massaged and foam rolled until the cows came home to try and soften up the tight spots in my glutes and meditated for 15minutes each night with the thought that 'I feel strong, relaxed and confident'.
A week later - I felt exactly the same; slow, lethargic and very uneasy about the race!
This morning the day arrived. Two restless nights of sleep was 'great' preparation and meant that I rolled out of bed with a double bagged green tea on hand. On went the outfit and out the door I head to meet my gorgeous and supportive parents who always help out on race day being the support crew (a.k.a. big smiles and warm hugs at the start and finish - my saviors after any kind of run!).
"10 minutes until start time for the half marathoners" - the announcement that made my belly lift up to the back of my throat.
Into the pack of thousands I slink, watch ready, I-pod on and shivering in anxious preparation.
And we were off!
The first 9km I was flying. I was cruising, running a pace that would see me come close to a PB and runners were dissapearing behind me (well - some anyway!!).
Then came the pain. The point where the lack of training would catch up on me. And the point where my 'great idea' new runners started to feel tight across my entire forefoot - making each step feel like I was leaping onto a rocky, gravel driveway with no shoes on.
The energy drinks station finally came up. Agh - thank god I screamed, hopeful that this might just be able to give my achy legs and feet the lift they need!!
I gulped down three quarters of the plastic cup, while the last quarter dribbled down my front leaving me feeling sticky for the next 5km.
I saw a few friendly faces along the way, both spectating and running the race - I made sure I looked 'comfortable' as I waved and yelled out to them but little did they know, I was screaming on the insides and slowed as I passed their view.
The last 6 or 7 km was a battle with my brain. I so desperately wanted to just stop, happy that I'd ran a solid distance and would walk back to the finish where a strong soy latte would be in reach. The heart of me wouldn't let my legs stop ticking over - and ticking over, step by step was what they did until oh my - we were finally completing the last lap of the MCG where the crowds cheered, the announcer was flashing the camera to all the finishers and the 'safe' place to collapse into the ground was near.
With Steve Monaghetti (am Australian distance running icon, and race ambassador) looking over towards the finish line from the stands - I found a second wind to sprint the last two hundred meteres, until finally the big red arches were there.
Relief was the first word that came to mind. Frustration at the knowledge that I should've trained a bit harder and was five minutes slower than last year. But all in all - there is always next year.
I couldn't walk, I couldn't lift my arms and took a while to make a clear look around into the crowd to make sense of where to get a thirst quenching drink - but it was done.
As I walk out of the grounds, an older man catches up to me; "Great run - did you crack the 1.40?", and we start making plans together (him being a complete stranger) of our next run. This time it will be longer, faster and maybe even off-road! Despite the limp of blistered feet and achy shoulders, we remained addicted to the atmosphere, the running spirit and the camaraderie of each person who runs.
For now - I'll rest up for a few days, enjoy my well deserved brunch, sit in the sunshine with an ice cold beer or two and ponder my next distance goal - could the marathon be possible next time around?
Ha - 'gotta love the run addiction'!!!
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