It could be good or it could be bad, but people tend to remember their first time. It’s special. I had been close many times before but never had the courage to go all the way. There had been only close encounters, around half a dozen of them. These encounters had been of tremendous help as every experience taught me something which I would use the next time. Some of them helped me go further as I gained some confidence; other times, it did not lead to me going further but more importantly they taught me to do this the right way. I started to understand that I was not alone in this experience. I had to read the mood and the energy around me; how to channel that energy in a positive way; when to go hard at it and when to hold back a little as I had to respect the situation. Then after a certain level, this act ceased to be a mere physical activity - it became philosophical. It forced me to think about life, to see flashes of the past and plans for the future, what it took to reach where I was then and how I planned to move on in life. Then there were questions which popped up unexpectedly. Was that the thing I would be satisfied with for all the rest of my life? Why was I even doing this? And the trickiest of all- was there a higher meaning to all this I was indulging in?
And when it became philosophical, I was sure that I was ready to go all the way. These experiences gave me questions, some valuable questions which needed answers. Now, these close encounters, or as some call it foreplay before the big game wouldn’t mean the same as they used to unless I capped them off with a home run. This home run would be my chase for those answers. Caution to self – ‘I may not get the answers, or let me be straight, I will not, but it’s the quest that matters.’ Enough of just 10k and 21k races, I decided. With this excitement and motivation, but mostly excitement, I was ready for my first experience, my First Full Marathon.
THE CITY AND THE RACE
I chose Netherlands as that lucky place because I was already in Europe for business and this city called Enschede in the South-East of Netherlands and very close to the German border, was the best option for me to run a full marathon race on that particular weekend. I started reading more about the history of this race and the city. It turned out to be the oldest marathon of the country. Also Enschede was far away from the hustle of major cities; it had a niche feeling to it which set it apart from the big city commercial runs.
TRAINING
All said and done, I started focussing on the training plan. Articles on Runner’s World magazine’s website were of immense help. It was important for me to understand which plans were relevant and which were not, as per my body type and other factors. The focus of the training plan was not to overdo. I wanted to keep it easy, keep the legs fresh. The mind should not be saturated at any point of time, with the burden of having a successful race. And I was able to keep that stress away, until the last week, when these thoughts overshadowed everything I did.
In the 8 weeks preceding the race, I managed to put in 3 long distance runs of 22kms, 27kms and 31kms- the longest one being 2 weeks before the big day. In between, the runs varied between 7 and 13km only. Average weekly distance was approximately 23kms. The good thing, which did not let the training become monotonous, was that the plan included a healthy mix of fast pace, uphills, normal pace, HIIT and slow long distance runs.
For cross-training, I decided to take on swimming on the alternate days. I am a novice at swimming and my swimming mostly consisted of me standing in the pool, kicking my legs just to stay afloat. It worked out pretty well I guess. Cycling is also considered a must for cross training, but for some reason, I could not manage enough of it.
With 1 week to go, I cut down the runs to just 2 short ones without any pace workout. The mental pressure was too much to handle anyways, affecting everything- be it work or leisure. It can get very irritating, and it stays that way till the finish line is crossed.
PRE-RACE
I took a flight out of Mumbai to Amsterdam via Dubai on Friday night, and landed in Amsterdam on Saturday afternoon after 13 hours. Thankfully, the flight was comfortable without any major pains. Though I could not sleep throughout the flight, but I fly frequently enough to accept these usual problems of long-distance flights. Then, from the Schiphol airport, I took a 2-hour train to Enschede, a city which even a lot of Dutch may not know much about, but will remain in my memory for a very long time. After collecting the race number, I took a bus to the house. I had booked a room via Airbnb earlier, and the owners were very affable to stay with.
I had already packed some breakfast options from Mumbai, as I did not want to have something unfamiliar that might just break the balance. I did go out to the city-centre at night, just to distract myself and gobble up some burgers in the process. Talking about familiar food, there is nothing better than good old McDonalds in a new city.
The next morning, I woke up at 6.30 for a 10AM race and had some bagels and tea. At the racing line, I talked to a few people. One of them was a first time Marathon runner like me, and was targeting a time of 4 hours, which threw me off a bit. I would consider myself lucky if I could manage anything below 4:45.
With barely few minutes to go, all thoughts started to rush in- just the way it happens in movies – training in hot and humid conditions, that 31km long distance run, aiming for glory, taking it easy, no self limitations et al. These thoughts are the source of positivity or negativity whichever way your mind sways. ‘Mind over Body’ is what I kept reminding myself. It was time to put in all the efforts.
I could not find the 4:45 pacer at the starting line. Then I realised I am in a country of fast runners (which I also realised when I finally saw my pathetic rank at the finish.) Maybe this was the moment I decided to ditch the 4:30 pacer and join the 4:15 gang. Let’s push it; after all, you are what you aim for.
3... 2... 1... GO
As the race started, I felt comfortable with the speed and was realising the benefit of running with a group rather than solo, which was a first time for me. I stayed at the back to take advantage of the drift and avoid any headwinds. As I was also unfamiliar with the route, it would not have been very comfortable to run on my own. The pace was a consistent 6 minutes a km for a long time, but I ended up doing around 19km in 2 hours. I was almost at the half way mark when the elite runners went pass by to the finish line. I might have said some cuss words seeing that, not to them but to my own situation. For them it was all admiration.
GOING SOLO
At this point, I also realised that I was not as tired as I expected to be after 2 hours. Many factors contributed to that, like the weather being pleasant with temperatures of 12 degree Celsius as compared to 35 degrees and 95% humidity in Mumbai where I usually train. Also, running with a group kept me distracted from any thoughts of tired legs and helped me keep up the speed at the same time. Here I decided to break away from the group and pick up the pace and 2 other guys did the same. As the race comprised of 2 loops of 21kms each, I was now familiar with the route and knew what to expect. By this time, the crowd by the roads had also increased significantly.
Solo run has its own advantages, as you get all the claps from the road side which is a big motivation going forward. Earlier I had written about questions about life, well, solo runs are needed for the answers. Now to keep myself busy for the next 21 kms, I happened to reflect back on a lot of things, most of which I cannot recall anymore but pure as these thoughts were, I hope they remain in my sub conscience mind and help me improve every day.
So the going was fine and the rhythm was good. I was already done with 3 snickers and 2 energy gels. 29th km and boom! There it was - a sudden disappearance of strength from the legs. I started struggling for power and my running form suffered. It was difficult to hold my head straight; it was either wobbling or drooping. This also resulted in less focus on breathing. Earlier I was able to maintain long deep breaths, but now it was becoming shorter and faster, which was not a good sign at all.
By the 31st km, I was dragging my feet, or so it felt. Soon, I could hear a lot of footsteps behind me. The 4:15 pack, with whom I started and then broken away, had caught me and was crossing me. By the 33rd km, I struggled to keep up with the pack, and lost sight of them. At this time, I had a strong urge to just stop and end this. The speed was unmentionable and only the mind was at work. Such situations arise when it does not matter how much strength had you gained and how much training you had done for the body, but you can carry on only if the mind was trained for this.
I entered another long straight, which had a U-turn after 4 kms. If I had earlier thought that the struggle could not get worse, I was proven wrong. It was hell. I started to look for that u-turn for some hope, and it only brought me down. That stretch seemed never-ending. Yes, I learnt here that it is very important to have the correct motivation in short or long term. This looking out for the u-turn was a mistake.
A TIRED MIND IS ITS OWN MASTER
Anyways, going forward, the music and the crowds had increased from the last time I was here 2 hours ago. This was of tremendous help as I took my small dragging steps forward. Here, the mind was confused among 3 conflicting thoughts of ‘come on’, ‘relax’, and ‘carry on’. So what to do next? Let’s bring out those motivational quotes which once I used to laugh at, thinking who does this. So I recalled ‘run the mile you are in’. At least it brought a smile to my face that I was also one of those nerds who need such bookish inspirations. Thanks to the wise man who said this, it helped. After a while though, I had reached a point where every 100m was a distance in itself. And finally the U-turn arrived. Damn u-turn, will never forgive you. Here the milestone showed 38 kms. I did a rough calculation that I had 3 more kilometres more to go and if I could manage a pace of 6 minutes from then, I could end up with a finish time of around 4 hours.
How was that possible? It was too good to be true after that entire struggle. Around a kilometre later, I realised what mistake I had made. At the milestone of 38 kms, I should have calculated a remaining distance of 4.2km instead of 3 km. As I realised my folly, I started to wonder what could have led to the same, and I came to the conclusion that it was because I took the race distance as 41.1km rather than 42.2km, as I am used to half marathons and making calculations from 21.1 km when the end is near. It doesn’t make sense, I know, but a tired mind is its own master.
So finally it was 3 kms to go and life was hell, again. At this time, all half-marathoners were flying by. “Bastards have it easy” I thought. “Try running a f*cking marathon for a change” I wanted to yell. Maybe I did; I don’t recall for convenience sake. I was hardly able to overtake anybody in the last 5 kms which is very unlike my usual races where I gather pace as the end is near, but here I guess I broke off from the pack 10 kms too soon. No time for regrets anyways.
FINALE
Finally, I finished in 4:14:05, which made me happy; happy because I finished finally. To be honest, I would have taken any time at this stage of my mind and body. I almost fell on one of the volunteers who escorted me to a chair. God bless him. After some water and energy drinks, I made my way to the massage room and started to shiver. As the body heat started to go down after more than 4 hours, I soon realised that the weather was too cold to be in just a sweaty t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Three volunteers came up to me to check if I required medical help. It is embarrassing to think of it now, but at that time I gladly accepted. I was wrapped in one of those plastic thermal blankets till I could walk again. Then, I took a massage, collected my bag from the luggage van, ate a hotdog, bought a race t-shirt to remember that day and left the old centre, with a smile.
