I am not an elite runner. Not by any possible stretch of the imagination.
I’m a recreational runner that has goals, but sometimes faces challenges in reaching those goals. And sometimes my goals completely elude me. Although seeing a goal slip through our hands can be hard, there always seems to be lessons to be learned. And, surprisingly, satisfaction and beauty can be found alongside defeat.
I just completed my latest marathon. Was this the worst or the best marathon I have done? I guess the answer depends on your point of view. Or perhaps, more importantly, on my point of view.
It started off really well with my goal time seemingly within my grasp. It was perhaps too speedy for the first 10 km but then I stayed close behind one runner who seemed to be running my goal pace. In this race the marathoners and half marathoners started at the same time. Unfortunately, this personal pace bunny peeled off at 20 km and headed towards the half marathon finish line. I was still pretty good until about 26 km when my pace started to slip. There was nothing to be done about it. And then at about 30 km I turned a corner and saw runners all the way to the horizon with no sign of the turnaround that was supposed to be ahead.
That’s when my mind first froze. Without any thinking I stopped running and walked for about a minute. I was still ok after that but then my hip started to act up. My mind and body were conspiring from then on, starting about 36 km. More long walks with both physical and mental pain. More time spent walking than running. Thirty-eight km. Thirty-nine km. I thought “what if I just lay down right here. Would the race monitors drive me the rest of the way?” Another, more desperate, thought came to me: I speculated on what would be the best way to fall so that it appeared that I had a heart attack, without actually hurting myself. “Surely they would have to carry me away if I did that!” This was a struggling mind wanting to pack it all in.
And then I had such a weird thought: “This is your best marathon. You are persevering though all this pain and your mind torturing you.” At that point I knew I would finish, even if I had to walk the rest of the way.
Part of my mind was still on my side! I picked up running again.
There was a big cheering section at 41 km and that also helped me along. At about 600 m from the end I could see the finish area and poured it on. I had such a strong finish but blew my goal time by a huge margin and finished at my worst time yet, out of 8 marathons.
This was the worst race I have done if you count the time. It was not even close to what I wanted. Yet, it was my best marathon in that I persevered, toughed it out, and got it done. And I got the bloody medal.
I felt both demoralized and satisfied. I lost my goal, but I found inner strength. It was bad. It was beautiful. Running is such a weird thing. But so is life.
Another life lesson from this crazy sport we call running. Remember that part of my mind that was on my side? We can survive if a tiny part of ourselves believes in us. We need to find that part of us sometimes and hang on for the ride. In the end we may just end up where we want to be. And it could be beautiful.