The last marathon-themed post, I promise!
I remember reading a lot of marathon finisher stories both before and after I actually signed up for the race. I guess I’ve always been fascinated by just what goes on in the minds of the people voluntarily undergoing abject misery for a prolonged period of time and running has, for most of my life, been the most misery-inducing pastime imaginable. Now I know it firsthand, but I’d still like to have the story printed in words somewhere to look back on, when I’m old and wise (and senile). I doubt the average person shares my morbid curiosity towards self-maiming, so it’s under the cut. But hey, click on the link and receive answers to such mind-boggling questions as: how do you entertain yourself when left to your own company for 5 hours? Where does it chafe the most? And seriously, just what is on your mind when you cross the finish line five and a half hours later and get that medal pressed into your hand?
Human mind is an incredible tool. Had I grasped, truly grasped, what I was about to do as I was standing there in the chilly May weather waiting for the start gun to fire, I would have probably turned left 500 meters into the course and taken the subway home. But I didn’t really think about 42,2 km in the beginning - somehow, the idea of me making that distance seemed completely alien after 3 weeks of butchered preparations due to stress and illness and subpar time management. Instead, I had far more modest goals to focus on. First and foremost, I just wanted to make 5 km. Intermediate times were taken at each 5K interval along the course and included in the result sheet and I just wanted to leave my mark on Stockholm marathon 2011, to have something next to my name in the result sheet. My next goal was to see my mother, who was waiting for me next to the 13 km sign, ready to hand over an energy gel. Just before the stream of runners were to leave Stockholm city and enter a national park for a 9 km stretch along trees and horses, my brother was stationed with another energy gel and a bottle of coca cola. He would be waiting for me again as I would be emerging from the park and to get to finish that bottle of coca cola became the next natural focus point.
I’m just mentioning a few of these “mini-goals” here - really, I can go on and on. I think I had something to look forward to every 10 minutes. If it wasn’t seeing a loved one, it was passing a time mat or the next pit stop or passing some fraction (2/7, 1/3, 9/14) of the distance - you catch my drift. It was never far to the next focus point and the distance thus never seemed overwhelming. 42 km is a scary number, but I was never looking that far ahead. It took me 35 km to believe, really believe that I would be making it - every km completed before then was a huge bonus.
The only negative, draining thought I had during the whole run took place somewhere around the third kilometer. Running felt labored in the beginning. It always does but I always forget that it does. I remember looking at my watch and thinking “another 5 hours of this??”. But that thought disappeared quickly.
The advertisement for Stockholm marathon claims the race to have one of the most scenic courses of the big marathons. The biased source of information aside, I tend to agree. It is pretty gorgeous. From about 5th km onwards, I was too busy regretting not bringing a camera to think about the remaining kilometers and before I knew it I reached the starting point of the race and began the second lap.
What was I thinking about between being on the look-out for my family members and enjoying the scenery? The need to occupy myself for a prolonged period of time was one of the things I was nervous about beforehand and I even seriously considered charging my iPod with a Harry Potter audio book. In reality, I was mostly doing math. Since I wasn’t sure if I would make it, with every new km I was calculating the minimal pace I can maintain from that point onwards and still make it to the finish before they closed. I was expected to be fully drained after 25 km and to mix jogging with walking and adding some crawling towards the end - but there was no need! The amazing thing is that I just didn’t slow down! The half marathon was passed according to plan, 24 km, 28 km, 30 km and I just continued running at a steady pace.
Still, after 4 hours and 32 km of uninterrupted running I decided I deserved a break. My back was beginning to protest (note to self: more weight lifting from now on) and the legs were pretty numb by now. I walked for a stretch and then resumed running. And - this is the weird thing - it was as if that walking break was the marathon equivalent of a good night’s sleep because I suddenly received new energy and could continue running at my set speed! I never felt the need to stop again. Maybe it’s not really running a marathon if you walk, still, I think that it was that break that enabled me to continue keeping my steady speed into finish and I think my overall time would be worse if I didn’t, so I don’t regret it.
Fun trivia: my fastest stretch of the whole race was the 41th kilometer.
I had a lot of time observing my company throughout the 5 hours. Given the moderate speed I maintained, most of the people surrounding me didn’t look as prospective marathon runners (I guess I don’t exactly look as a typical marathon finisher either). Some were overweight, some were really old. I had an Italian couple next to me for a while who looked as if they were on a sight seeing tour. It really made me cement my belief that some things look scary and for the chosen few from afar, but really, the only difference between that middle-aged woman with love handles next to me and that middle-aged woman with love handles in the public is that the woman next to me believed that she can run a marathon and she thus is running a marathon.
The last kilometers flew by faster than one would expect them at this point and eventually, I reached Stockholm Olympic stadium where it would all end. Here I’d like to conclude with a poignant description of how I was running the last 200 m with “tears in my eyes” jubilant over my accomplishment (or something equally corny). Unfortunately, I can’t. The only thing I can remember myself thinking for the last 200 meters before the finish line was ‘don’t trip’. When I was finally allowed to stop after 5 hours, 19 minutes and 37 seconds of running I was too groggy to feel anything beyond the quickly propagating muscular ache. When I ran the half marathon in Prague, finishing it gave me the strongest natural high I can remember. This experience was mostly ‘meh’. I saw my family though, and they seemed more enthusiastic about it all than I was at that point.
Proceeding to the runner’s area (about 300 meters) and reclaiming my stuff along with my finisher t-shirt took longer than the last 5 km of the race as everything in my body stiffened up and it.hurt.as.hell. All the stories I read about the post-marathon sensations finally made sense - the stairs down to the runner area were impossible! I couldn’t bend my knees, I couldn’t turn, I could hardly stand up. I was promised ice cream after the race (my “no sweets” in 2011 resolution is still ongoing, but I guess if there’s ever a time that one earned the fat and sugar, that would be after completing a marathon) but couldn’t really see myself making it anywhere but my bed. All the more surprising was thus the fact that I woke up next morning hardly sore at all and with only two blisters (and a medal) to show for my whole experience.
Well, that’s about it.
To summarize: a marathon for me had been fun while running, underwhelming when done.
Have you made it this far - I’m impressed. Let me know and I promise to treat you to wine/beer/ice cream should we ever meet face to face =) As for my running plans in the near future - as said, I have quite a lot planned for the coming months. But I’ll probably tone down the running-themed posts for a while…
Human mind is an incredible tool. Had I grasped, truly grasped, what I was about to do as I was standing there in the chilly May weather waiting for the start gun to fire, I would have probably turned left 500 meters into the course and taken the subway home. But I didn’t really think about 42,2 km in the beginning - somehow, the idea of me making that distance seemed completely alien after 3 weeks of butchered preparations due to stress and illness and subpar time management. Instead, I had far more modest goals to focus on. First and foremost, I just wanted to make 5 km. Intermediate times were taken at each 5K interval along the course and included in the result sheet and I just wanted to leave my mark on Stockholm marathon 2011, to have something next to my name in the result sheet. My next goal was to see my mother, who was waiting for me next to the 13 km sign, ready to hand over an energy gel. Just before the stream of runners were to leave Stockholm city and enter a national park for a 9 km stretch along trees and horses, my brother was stationed with another energy gel and a bottle of coca cola. He would be waiting for me again as I would be emerging from the park and to get to finish that bottle of coca cola became the next natural focus point.
I’m just mentioning a few of these “mini-goals” here - really, I can go on and on. I think I had something to look forward to every 10 minutes. If it wasn’t seeing a loved one, it was passing a time mat or the next pit stop or passing some fraction (2/7, 1/3, 9/14) of the distance - you catch my drift. It was never far to the next focus point and the distance thus never seemed overwhelming. 42 km is a scary number, but I was never looking that far ahead. It took me 35 km to believe, really believe that I would be making it - every km completed before then was a huge bonus.
The only negative, draining thought I had during the whole run took place somewhere around the third kilometer. Running felt labored in the beginning. It always does but I always forget that it does. I remember looking at my watch and thinking “another 5 hours of this??”. But that thought disappeared quickly.
The advertisement for Stockholm marathon claims the race to have one of the most scenic courses of the big marathons. The biased source of information aside, I tend to agree. It is pretty gorgeous. From about 5th km onwards, I was too busy regretting not bringing a camera to think about the remaining kilometers and before I knew it I reached the starting point of the race and began the second lap.
What was I thinking about between being on the look-out for my family members and enjoying the scenery? The need to occupy myself for a prolonged period of time was one of the things I was nervous about beforehand and I even seriously considered charging my iPod with a Harry Potter audio book. In reality, I was mostly doing math. Since I wasn’t sure if I would make it, with every new km I was calculating the minimal pace I can maintain from that point onwards and still make it to the finish before they closed. I was expected to be fully drained after 25 km and to mix jogging with walking and adding some crawling towards the end - but there was no need! The amazing thing is that I just didn’t slow down! The half marathon was passed according to plan, 24 km, 28 km, 30 km and I just continued running at a steady pace.
Still, after 4 hours and 32 km of uninterrupted running I decided I deserved a break. My back was beginning to protest (note to self: more weight lifting from now on) and the legs were pretty numb by now. I walked for a stretch and then resumed running. And - this is the weird thing - it was as if that walking break was the marathon equivalent of a good night’s sleep because I suddenly received new energy and could continue running at my set speed! I never felt the need to stop again. Maybe it’s not really running a marathon if you walk, still, I think that it was that break that enabled me to continue keeping my steady speed into finish and I think my overall time would be worse if I didn’t, so I don’t regret it.
Fun trivia: my fastest stretch of the whole race was the 41th kilometer.
I had a lot of time observing my company throughout the 5 hours. Given the moderate speed I maintained, most of the people surrounding me didn’t look as prospective marathon runners (I guess I don’t exactly look as a typical marathon finisher either). Some were overweight, some were really old. I had an Italian couple next to me for a while who looked as if they were on a sight seeing tour. It really made me cement my belief that some things look scary and for the chosen few from afar, but really, the only difference between that middle-aged woman with love handles next to me and that middle-aged woman with love handles in the public is that the woman next to me believed that she can run a marathon and she thus is running a marathon.
The last kilometers flew by faster than one would expect them at this point and eventually, I reached Stockholm Olympic stadium where it would all end. Here I’d like to conclude with a poignant description of how I was running the last 200 m with “tears in my eyes” jubilant over my accomplishment (or something equally corny). Unfortunately, I can’t. The only thing I can remember myself thinking for the last 200 meters before the finish line was ‘don’t trip’. When I was finally allowed to stop after 5 hours, 19 minutes and 37 seconds of running I was too groggy to feel anything beyond the quickly propagating muscular ache. When I ran the half marathon in Prague, finishing it gave me the strongest natural high I can remember. This experience was mostly ‘meh’. I saw my family though, and they seemed more enthusiastic about it all than I was at that point.
Proceeding to the runner’s area (about 300 meters) and reclaiming my stuff along with my finisher t-shirt took longer than the last 5 km of the race as everything in my body stiffened up and it.hurt.as.hell. All the stories I read about the post-marathon sensations finally made sense - the stairs down to the runner area were impossible! I couldn’t bend my knees, I couldn’t turn, I could hardly stand up. I was promised ice cream after the race (my “no sweets” in 2011 resolution is still ongoing, but I guess if there’s ever a time that one earned the fat and sugar, that would be after completing a marathon) but couldn’t really see myself making it anywhere but my bed. All the more surprising was thus the fact that I woke up next morning hardly sore at all and with only two blisters (and a medal) to show for my whole experience.
Well, that’s about it.
To summarize: a marathon for me had been fun while running, underwhelming when done.
Have you made it this far - I’m impressed. Let me know and I promise to treat you to wine/beer/ice cream should we ever meet face to face =) As for my running plans in the near future - as said, I have quite a lot planned for the coming months. But I’ll probably tone down the running-themed posts for a while…