Especiallly (cue sinister music) the fact that on Thursday I commented to the Spousal Unit that it's actually a good thing I rolled my ankle, 'cause otherwise I'd be FREAKING OUT about this bloody chest.
Ha, missed that in the waterfall of whingeing over the last couple of weeks, didn't you? The Cough was back, with its horrible mates crook, achy and exhausted.
But as always, optimism being the LBTEPA way, I swallowed my despair and terror (sounds as though I thought this was really important, doesn't it?) and Acted As If things were going to be ok. I slept, I hydrated, I took my medicine. I strapped and iced and rested my ankle and hoped for the best. I sang the national anthem at the start line. I'd got away with it! Or so I thought...
But I digress.
I met up with the Mighty Emma and her husband R at our hotel on the Saturday. She was irritatingly perky and excited about our next big adventure. The kilometre from the station to our hotel had felt like a very long way to me so I wanted to slap her. Fortunately, over the course of the day these opposing moods oscillated back and forth so when she was a teary fearful mess I was all positive and resolute (and I expect she had to restrain herself from slapping me). After I'd had a nice sleep the Spousal Unit and Noddie arrived and we went out for dinner blah blah blah nervous chatter pre-race preparation (race nails etc) and off to bed.
Race day. Drizzly, a bit cold. The atmosphere at the start was wonderful - so much excitment! And so lovely to see so many friends again. I'm smiling just thinking about it.
I don't use a garmin so my strategy for the first 10km or so was to keep the mighty Emma in sight because I knew she was planning on a similar pace to mine. I felt good along St Kilda Rd and around Albert Park although the cutoff time when they wouldn't let you turn right onto the full marathon course was always at the back of my mind. I may have gone out a bit fast becuase of this, I don't know. Becuase of my limited preparation and having been sick during the week, I really didn't have much idea what I was capable of. I tried to hold back, but... maybe I should get a garmin? I dunno.
Anyway, I got to the cutoff point under the time. The half marathoners were well on their way by that stage. The elites floated by like angels. I loved to watch them. As an aside - if you're thinking of doing a Very Slow Marathon, make sure you put your name on your shirt, in big letters and preferably accompanied by a memorable slogan. My Stupidly Determined shirt got me so much encouragement! And if you're watching a Very Slow marathon, please do call out to people with names on their shirts! They appreciate it more than you could possibly know.
Down the hill we went, with all the fast runners steaming up toward us. I felt tired watching them working so hard, which was not a good sign. Off down the beach we went, into the most vile, bitter headwind you can imagine. F*** it was windy. I had been going nicely with run two songs: walk one until this point but as I got colder (did I mention this wind came with occasional face-stinging squalls?) I started to become aware that I didn't have as much in the tank as I'd foolishly/optimistically hoped. It was still a very long way home and I would have to start adjusting The Plan so I could get there. Run one:walk one it was, from 17-27km. The northern turnaround was my favourite place in the world becuase I was finally out of the wind. Eight km of tail wind and then only three back into its teeth before we headed back toward the city. I could deal with that. On and on I trundled. I'd started to cough a bit, but it was ok. I almost laughed when the wind swung - a complete 180 degrees, right back into our faces! It was clearly time to call on Chris McCormack's wonderful advice to endurance athletes: EMBRACE THE SUCK. I had to laugh. Hi Suck! There you are! I've been expecting you (although perhaps not on this scale). Let's run together!
By 27km I was getting very cold and coughing every time I ran. My ankle was holding up but starting to ache a bit. The Plan was adjusted again. Walk. Keep walking. Just keep walking.
We got put on the footpath at this stage which was a relief because it was a bit more sheltered from the wind. It was harder to remember my hydration plan without the run/walk cues but I kept drinking whenever I remembered and having my gels on the hour. Once again there was very little water for the slowest runners. It was disgraceful and one of the reasons I'll really think very hard about running my home state marathon again.
It was such a relief to get off the beach, up the hill and on to St Kilda Road. I was very worried about the time - I was trying to move as quickly as I could but there were no f***ing km signs so I couldn't gauge my speed. I got talking to a lovely man who told me he'd been in the army and I was going about as fast as they'd expect to do a route march (about 6km an hour I think?). He may have been lying but it cheered me up at a time when every low fence and bench was an invitation to stop....stop...stop....stop....
You can stop when you've finished. Only about two hours to go.
Hi Suck, still here? We're having quite a day out, aren't we?
I was cold, I was hurting, I was never so tired in my life. But I never went to this-is-too-hard-I-give-up despair. I was always, always focusing on what I needed to do to make it home. I never cried and I stayed peaceful- except when I saw a marshall giving away a bottle of the only water I'd seen since 27km to a random passer-by (ahem, leaving a box of water by the side of a popular exercise track is not providing a water-station to slower runners, it's providing free drinks to every f***er on a Sunday workout) - then, I confess, I did my nut at him for a short energy-wasting moment. Tool. The coughing had eased a great deal by the time we got to the gardens so after I'd walked the Shrine Hill I tried running one song/walking one again and it went ok. 4km to go. Run one, walk one, run one, walk one. Drink. Run. Walk.
I passed the place where I was sent the wrong way last year (resisting the urge to give an undeserved finger to the charming and helpful volunteers) and set off across the bridge. I knew my CR friends would be waiting and I started to get a bit sooky oh please be there, please be there, I need some help, I can't do this by myself any more and then they were there. In the distance I could see them pouring out down the steps and I started to tear up. As I got closer I could hear them yelling, and I saw them making an arch with their arms for me to run under. Thank you, my friends, from the very bottom of my heart. I'll never, ever forget that moment. The feeling of being home again and cared-for and somehow safe again was so strong and filled me with such energy that when the workmen who were blocking the road with their truck said I'd have to go around it (WELL HI CAPTAIN OBVIOUS) I replied, no mate, I'll go through!
Around the corner I saw the lovely lovely 41km sign, my favourite number in the world. Run one, walk one. Run one...and then I was nearly there so I unplugged myself (would you believe the last song was Tubthumping? I get knocked down, but I get up again, you're never gunna keep me down.... True!) and ran it in. Part of me was pissed off about the uphill finish but part of me was So F***ing Over running that I didn't care and just steamed up it. The Spousal Unit was yelling and waving and beaming at me from the stands so I ran harder. More than anything I was looking forward to crossing the line and lying down on the ground and crying my eyes out but my dear little Noddie was standing there with a cup of water for me so I didn't, just gave her a big hug instead. Eww Mummy you're all sweaty and yuck!
Done.
(not taken at the finish line)I was extremely happy and proud of myself at how I managed the day, under the circumstances, but my abiding realisation is that I really don't need to do stuff like that to myself any more. I know how tough I am. I have already told J, my Mum and the Mighty Emma - who finished in 7:15 with a pinched nerve that essentially left her with one-and-a-bit legs for the last 15km (as opposed to later, when we may or may not have both got completely legless, I admit nothing) - to remind me next year that I will not be entering Melbourne if I have a chest infection between July and September. I'll happily blow the early-bird discount to avoid an experience like VSM#5.I'm not saying I don't think I should have done it. I made the best decision I could at the time and really, even though it was a long difficult day, I got through it and quite well too. Life isn't about only doing easy things or being successful or avoiding suffering. It's a source of great satisfaction to me that I'm (ahem) strong and healthy enough (don't laugh!) to toe the line and face down 42.2. I'm happy I did VSM#5 and that it worked out as well as it did. Now I have quite a lot of uni to catch up on - and a trip to America to plan! Life is good.
More anon, goofy challengers :)
More anon, daydream believers!
