I hope you’re comfy because this is going to be long.
So the time had come, I wanted to try a marathon. I’d been training consistently and felt I was in a good base condition to think about trying my luck with a marathon.
I booked onto Morecambe marathon for September 29th. It was supposedly a fairly flat and fast course, which boded well for my first attempt at completing the longest distance I’d ever ran. In the lead up to the marathon I had a go at some longer runs to see how my body handled the distance.
As I was pushing the into the 20 mile range one thing became very apparent, I was not fuelling well enough. Nowhere near well enough. I was getting toward the 18-22 mile mark and feeling that I had nothing left, feeling hungry and my muscles cramping up (remember this). On the longest run I did pre-marathon (which was an accident by some bad maths by myself and Ben), I could barely straighten my legs as we finished the run. My thighs, quads and calves were burning and cramping every step. I made it to the end and just about stopped dead. I remember after we headed to Tesco for some food and I ended up sitting on the floor because I bent down to grab something and couldn’t get back up, that and it was cold and felt good on my legs. My brother just laughing at the sheer state of me (not uncommon). I knew it was time to start taking fuelling seriously so I bought some gels and oat bars and tried running with them. It definitely helps, don’t avoid it!
3 weeks till marathon day, and the start of my taper off of my training to keep myself nice and fresh for the big day. I thought I’d run an 18 miler up the Cinder Trail (out of Scarborough towards Robin Hoods Bay). There’s a reasonable bit of elevation and different terrain so thought it would be a good workout. It was all going great, enjoying the scenery, supping my gels until about mile 9. I was running and suddenly, BANG. Did someone just run and kick me in the bollocks? What the fuck just happened?!
An intense pain like nothing I’ve felt before floored me, I fell straight to the ground trying to work out what just went wrong. Without going into to much detail, I rearranged myself, gained some composure and started to head back, still with a very intense dull ache in the groin area. That 9 miles back was easily the worst 9 miles I’ve ever ran to this date. I was having to stop every few minutes to re-adjust and try to figure out how to stop the pain. I stumbled my way back and flopped into my car.
Long story short, after multiple embarrassing doctors appointment, it appeared that whilst running I had suffered some level of testicular torsion (or how I call it, twisted me bollocks). It seems it had twisted and untwisted again (possibly my magic rearrangement), but either way I was barely able to walk without pain for a week or so, never mind any sort of running.
I left it for 2 weeks and I went for a test run to see the state of play, to get the decision if I was going to be able to do this marathon. Obviously, I couldn’t, everyone was telling me I couldn’t and shouldn’t but I was so determined to do it. The run was a disaster.
Marathon week came round and I was absolutely in no state to do it. It was heartbreaking (dramatic I know, but it’s true). It was for the best, but I had built up so much excitement and determination to get this done and now I couldn’t. October came and went with barely any running at all, just slow simple runs to ease me back in, still not 100% but I saw a post on Facebook. Dalby Forest Trail Marathon – 1st December. I’m doing it, no questions asked. I booked on there and then.
My first long run since September was the second week of November, I went for 18 miles and once again suffered that terrible fuelling issue at mile 10. My own fault, I didn’t eat before I ran (I got caught up on a work call). I stopped at a farm shop and smashed in a sausage roll and cracked on. Mile 17 & 18 were pathetic, legs cramping and almost to a walking pace, but 18 miles is 18 miles right?
Between that date and the 1st December I ran around 40 miles total. I was completely unprepared for this run, my body was not ready but I didn’t care. I wasn’t even excited at this point I just wanted it done.
Race day came around, I got up nice and early, had some breakfast and headed on down to the start line. The race included a 10KM (partial lap), Half Marathon (1 lap) and Marathon (2 laps). And we’re off!
The first lap was great, enjoyed the buzz of the large crowds running around. It was raining quite miserably but I didn’t care at the start, I was in a great mental place. There were fun runners, people running with dogs, even a man running in jeans, a polo top and a normal watch which really caught me off guard but each to their own! I got chatting to a couple of people going at a similar pace and thoroughly enjoyed taking in the scenery as we climbed to the top of the valley overlooking the forest with a low dense fog settling at the bottom.
The second lap started strong, maintaining a decent-ish pace and feeling overall pretty good all things considered. It wasn’t until around mile 19 where I started to feel the distance in my legs. I finished my last gel and hoped that’d do me till the end. It didn’t. I started getting twinges in my left thigh, only every 20 steps or so it’d do it, then every 10, then every 5. I was coming up on a fuelling station so I stopped, stretched out, grabbed a packet of haribos and some water from the lovely marshall (who were all great) and got back on my way. The twinges stopped for a short period of time, but as I got to mile 21 it was getting pretty intense. What started as twinges soon turned into cramping, this just got worse and worse. It got to the point where both legs were cramping every step and it felt fucking horrendous. I looked at my watch and I still had just under 5 miles to go.
I was certain in that moment I was not going to be able to finish. I thought I’d try running slowly until it was too much then walking and repeating that, but it got to the point where my knees and calves were cramping and stiffening as well. I really didn’t know what to do, was this the wall? Can you get past it? I tried to mentally focus up and crack on but my legs just would not play ball. They weren’t ready for this and I knew it.
The next 5 miles were absolutely miserable. I cannot say that I enjoyed a single second of it. The area I loved on the first lap now just felt never ending and harrowing and the worst part was that the last section had the worst hills. I dragged myself up and down the hills, making all sorts of noises from the pain and frustration. At this point I was just walking.
The last hill before the ¼ mile tarmac downhill was in front of me, or so I thought. Turns out when you’re dehydrated, tired, cramping and just mentally done, every hill looks the same. I did eventually reach the final hill, I knew I was so close, last effort. I got onto the tarmac, I could see the end and I pushed, trying to pick my feet up so I didn’t trip over my own feet and avoid looking like a complete twat right at the end. I turned the last corner, the finish line is there, just 50 metres to go. It’s there, it’s right there. I pushed and pushed and jogged slowly over the line. I’d done it, I’d actually done it! I waddled over to the finishing tent and collected my medal and the choice of either a themed buff or a travel mug, I chose the buff.
As I gathered my thoughts and looked around, there wasn’t a single other runner there. There were about 4 cars left in the car park which at the beginning there must’ve been hundreds. I went back to my car, sat in the back seat taking my shoes off and just cried. Even typing this now is making me well up a bit. I can’t believe it was actually done. Not my best running form and definitely not the best time but I did it.
As much as I know that completing a marathon is a fantastic achievement, I couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed in myself. I basically walked the last 5 miles and feel I let myself down in doing so. I know I wasn't race ready and didn't take enough fuel with me, but I can't help that voice in the back of my mind telling me that I could've done better and that I need to prove myself.
So I've signed up for a 47 mile cross country race in July :)
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