I’ve been running off and on for almost 15 years. I’ve run a bunch of 5km and 10km races over the years, and even ran a half marathon about eight years ago.
But with work and family responsibilities, my off-and-on running had become mostly off. My bathroom scale reminded me of this fact when I weighed in back in July.
So I decided to get serious about running again, and set a goal of running at least four times per week for a month. Within a few days I was hooked on running once more. My mind and body craved it on days I didn’t get out.
Before this summer, I’d never really focused on speed. Two things changed that. First, I now use the Nike+ GPS app on my iPhone, which keeps track of my route and gives me updates on my pace at regular intervals. It also auto-publishes my time and distance to Facebook and Twitter at the end of each run.
This brings me to the other reason for my need for speed. I received the this tweet from one of my followers (I don’t know him) after the pace from one of my runs was auto-posted onTwitter:
That comment made me angry that somebody could be so rude, but it also made me angry enough to want to get faster. So I started working on my pace. I improved from the awful 7:30/minute pace I started with earlier this summer — to the 6:20 pace I ran for the Midsummer Night’s Run — to the 5:30 pace I managed over 10km one week before race day.
My original goal was to finish in less than 2 hours, 15 minutes. But after my speedy 10km the week before, I started imagining I might actually be able to complete the marathon in under 2 hours.
My goal was to try to do the first 10km at a 5:40 pace, then assess whether I could keep it up for the last 11km. Unfortunately, the GPS on my Nike+ app failed for the first time and I had to do some math along the way to keep track of my pace.
I spent most of the early part of the race passing other runners. Whenever someone passed me, I imagined I was attached to them with an invisible tether and I ran behind them at their pace for as long as I could.
By the time I hit the 10km mark, I knew I was ahead of my goal and still had a chance to finish under 2hours. By 15km, I was feeling strong and knew I could do it. Then at 17km, my legs felt like they had nothing left to give. But I pressed on. But at 18km I started feeling dizzy so I drank some Gatorade and slowed my pace. I still managed to cross the finish line at 1 hour, 56 minutes and 15 seconds. That’s a 5:30/km pace, which I was very happy about!
The Medical tent
Others have commented on this already, but the finish line was very poorly organized. Instead of being able to cool down and loosen up, runners were forced to stand still for up to an hour and a half while they waited to claim their race bags. Standing in line for more than half an hour, on top of my light-headedness, led me to pass out and fall down hard. When I came through, I was surrounded by runners offering me water or bananas or Gatorade. I said I was ok and stood back up. Then I passed out and fell down again. When I came through the second time, I heard someone screaming for a medic.
I was scooped off the ground, placed in a wheelchair and wheeled to the medical tent. I spent an hour and a half in there trying to keep warm while I lay on an incline so the blood could flow back to my head.
By the time I got home I felt much better. And today, my legs feel strong.
As I was driving into work on this morning in the glow of autumn sun, I was thinking how good it would feel to be out running again. Not another 21.1 kilometres for a little while. But there will be more long runs in my future. Maybe next year I’ll even attempt the full marathon.