Marathon - Part i
The Last 1st Marathon at Sherwood Pines
Last week I ran the 1st and last ‘1st’ marathon I’ll ever compete in. Time will tell if the 2nd is a self fulfilling inevitability.
There was a reason for the first, beyond my own ego and the question ‘can I run a marathon??’ It’s Here.
There needs to be a reason to take the torch to your body and let it burn. Follow me, hopefully I can show you why.
It’s the 8th weekend, or more specifically 56 days since I began training. Today is Sunday 16th March, Race day, and sleep or not, I’m in a focused race state of mind, I remember this state from athletics meets as a child.
It’s 8am, I remember closing my eyes at 3am and at the moment the 8 looks like a 3. Directly above the bed are antlers, this hotel is keen on antlers; the hunt, the kill and noble breakfasts. I brought my own breakfast so I could skip the pleasantries of breakfasting with other guests, I heard other runners were here but I’d prefer to see them on the start line.
My pre long run meal is always a bagel with peanut butter, honey and a banana, but I don’t have a knife or a banana, so against protocol I stepped out of the room into The Dukeries Lodge stairwell. Muffled sounds rose as I paced down the curved steps. Above my head, in the centre, below a glass dome, hung larger antlers and my first thought wasn’t of animal cruelty but of royalty, nobility and those pour souls that I’d be hunting on the course today. My mind was on the race only.
I collected my banana, forgot the knife; so back in the room I chopped it with a teaspoon. I ate on the floor while stretching and rewatching a video I’d spent most of the 8 week period watching over and over. You can call it personal development, mental fortification, motivation, I call it a meditation - the title Do It Alone - echoed my entire training saga. Multiple voices threaded through the video, from film scenes, podcast clips, keynotes or interviews. The first scene was of Bane confronting Batman, “…You merely adopted the dark, I was born in it!” For some reason I always smiled at this. I won’t force you to drag your eyes over the many others, but I’ll end this preamble with one of Dave Goggins’ entries ‘I trained 99% of the time alone!”
I closed my iPad and put my number 29 in it and packed my bags. I was dressed, as usual in Under Armour. I’m certain this isn’t the right attire but its the suit I’m wearing no matter the weather.
The taxi was a few minutes away while I did the last of my warm up routine; rolling out my legs. I wasn’t nervous, just alert to how my body was feeling after running 5 times a week for the past 8 weeks. I’d ran in Sheffield and London, and maintained weights training with loose dumbbells in my family home garage, used the EIS facility in Sheffield and a gym in London. This race day warm up was familiar despite the location.
In the taxi I looked at the isotonic gels I’d failed to test on my last long run but my sports science educated brother assured me “The body will know what to do”, when I take them. I took this as factual information. I’d take one every 5 miles and one at the 23rd mile.
Nature unravelled while the driver spoke about something, I was too curious about the 26.2 miles to listen, but he did remind me I left my number inside my iPad case inside the hotel! So much for lucky number 29. I closed my eyes and let the car roll, I felt the pace of the car and the stream of wind, I was running in my head. “You’re here sir’’, I opened my eyes and as the name Sherwood Pines suggests, long vertical Rivendell-esque pines flooded my vision. I guess this isn’t a road race, I shrugged into the foray as I left the car, (I wrongly assumed it was a route around the forest. It didn’t matter.)
People stretched, pinned bibs, used the rest rooms; others were saying farewell to their loved ones as though it was the last race on earth. I wandered through them in my alone-state and stared into the faces of competitors, they were excited. An announcer was speaking, but I ignore him and head to a portable and find the check-in to collect a new number; I’m handed 44, “Ham’s number…”, “Sorry?” I don’t explain its Lewis Hamilton’s number, I don’t have time. Either way its a good omen, if I place 44th amongst this multitude I’ll be stunned. I pin it over my gilet.
Everyone… man, woman or child - looked like an athlete, I could hear there dialects and accents which made it feel more like an international meet as I threaded my way toward the inflated green marshmallow START line arch. It didn’t quite fit the prehistoric majesty of the pines.
The announcer continued to speak, I was stood a few rows from the front, and realised I’d forgotten to do a couple of key mobility stretches - so in the 30 seconds before the 10am race time, I did them whilst leaning on a cold pine. Something about that few seconds assured me I’d finish this race well. The pine almost spoke to me and I had a sensation of being watched, this feeling had trailed me for weeks.
Then… we began. We were cheered off by supporters and ran as one. I was feeling myself, this is what I’d trained for since the beginning of the year, well since mid January, each training session completed perfectly, all but one, but that one session wasn’t relevant now, whether I’d lost the use of my right leg at the time or not, whether it was 2 weeks ago or not, I was ready to GO!
I looked at my watch to make sure it was synced to my pace. I had a voice in my head despite the cacophony of noise, ‘keep the first 18 miles BORING!’, it was the voice of Jeff Cunningham. I said I trained alone but the truth is, I consumed all Nick Bare’s marathon prep and began to see him as a distant Texan training partner and his coach, Jeff, became mine.
There were more runners congregated here than I’d ever seen. I watched them and imagined their names, I was calm, heart rate low, I listened to their steps and chatter, I could hear them breathing beside me and I wondered why some were breathing so loud, I noticed I wasn’t breathing at all. The course was majestic, sky clear, the pines guided much of the winding or elongated paths, it was shapeless at times but I followed the pack around; down, up hill, along stretches, over clay, sand, mud, mud dusted with sand and dirt packed pavements. My pace was within my parameters, which I’d set based on my 5k time… is that the right thing to do on a first marathon… I don’t know. I was running 8min per mile or 5min per km pace regardless of the inclement terrain.
I shuffled on, that is how it felt, I was fresh, running slowly, breathing through my nose, focused only on a level pace. The rolling captivating landscape was BORING, I decided to bank my wonder until the end. On previous long runs my neck became stiff from looking left and right to cross roads, so today I kept my eyes forward despite the enduring beauty.
I don’t know what they call this type of marathon but its clear I don’t know what I’m getting in to.
Luke, a guy with wired headphones and blue T, is checking his watch, his pace, I check mine. In front of him are a pair; Carrie, a young woman and her greying uncle, Paul - no - Odin. We 4 are running together. We pass a couple casual runners chatting along at a saunter, “Has he got enough clothes on?” one comments on my attire. I’m the only person with a woollen hat, gilet, leggings, sports socks and two long sleeve layers on. There isn’t another soul wearing more than a thin jacket, T or vest, and few are wearing leggings. I’m dressed for winter, it isn’t cold, but I’m not warm either. The pace doesn’t feel quick, I’m not overheating and used to running in this gear you tool! BORING.
The 5th then 10th mile came swiftly. People seem to be getting faster. Quicker runners go by while I have a second gel since there were no ill effects after the first.
There’s a photographer on the course. My all Under Armour attire suggests I’m a sponsored athlete, sadly not, sadly they never asked, or am I meant to ask them? My group is familiar now, adding and dropping people, the latest is Dave with the leg tattoo, he led us, Luke in blue and Carrie and her uncle led me. We began to pass a few people, this felt good, we moved as a cohort of athletes. Note the word ‘as’.
BORING. KEEP IT— I get it Jeff! My pace for some reason was 4:45min per km pace, and I didn’t know for how long. I slowed and let my group leave me. It wasn’t long before Dumb and Dumber, no, sorry, Charles and Erik, the one that commented on my attire - retook their position ahead of me. They were talking about a stag do that transpired the day before. I guess they had an evening more intense than mine - I’d attended a virtual event.
The stewards - at the water stations - were cheerful and supportive but I stopped acknowledging them, I knew I was getting closer to the furthest I’d ever ran - 18 miles. I checked my watch to see if I was slowing down as people began passing me again, nope, I was running 4’45 pace again KEEP IT BORING! What the hell am I doing? I slowed, you can catch them in the championship rounds, I thought and let them go. THE RACE STARTS AT 18 MILES - Jeff said.
It wasn’t long before I caught Odin and Carrie and passed them, it was the 12th mile. But something strange was occurring, many runners, too many to give individual names to, were winding their pace up and getting faster. I was running the same pace, I saw a teenager, and a woman (his mother & coach) cycling beside him and I heard her say something about being under 2 hours… I couldn’t figure what she meant. If I knew one thing, it was that the world record was under two hours and I nor this kid were in that sort of shape. We came upon a fork in the road eventually where the course led directly forward and to the right, I hadn’t seen anyone go right, but people were being directed that way. The boy went that way, I was told to continue straight.
Its beyond cliché but S U D D E N L Y I was alone, the way Goggins’ prefers it, I couldn’t hear any steps behind me or see any in front, wait… two legs were moving over the vast canvas ahead. They must have been a mile away. It took me some time to realise that the vast majority of runners were running shorter races.
So I’m dead last, I knew it, I could feel it. I focused on catching those legs, I named them Hermes (after the god, not the bag).
I wasn’t catching…
Part ii continues Here…