This weekend I ran my second half-marathon. And survived. Obviously... Why did I decide to do it? Honestly, I don't even know. Temporary madness, I guess. Okay, so I'd done it before - more than a year ago - so I was pretty sure I'd be able to handle it but after registering for the distance I realized that I was probably overestimating myself. I wasn't in as good a shape as last year and even though I still went running 2-3 times a week, I wasn't as into it as a year before. See, the first time I decided to run the half marathon I had a lot of free time on my hands and I used that time to train. At least twice a week I would run 10-14 km and my regular running path was at least 8 km long. I was feeling pretty confident that I'd be able to handle 21 km.
This year was different however. I managed to injure myself sometime in March and couldn't run for weeks. Even after I started again it wasn't the same. I would get out of breath after 30 minutes, I would stop every time my legs started to feel sore and after getting a job I didn't really have that much time to go out and run. I was not the same person that I had been a year ago. I was slower, had less stamina and gave up way too easily. I knew for a fact that I was in a much worse shape because a month before the half marathon I decided do go on a 10 k run... and it was hell. It was excruciating and I felt like quitting every minute and after it was over I was ready to sleep for a week. So why in the world did I choose to run the half marathon again? I guess I just wanted to prove to myself that I still had it...
A few days before the run I started to get nervous. I hadn't run more than 10 km for over a year and now I was going to run twice that? It seemed insane... but I had no other choice. There was no backing out anymore - I needed to do this. Whether I managed to do it without stopping halfway through was another matter completely.
The day arrived, I gathered my stuff and headed to Tallinn. I was still pretty sure I wouldn't be able to run the whole thing - I would probably have to walk a little bit, maybe stop for water - but I would get over the finish line eventually. And hey, there were a few good things about the whole ordeal: the weather was nice and warm (maybe even too warm), I would get a medal for finishing (and I do love getting medals) and at least this got me out of the house. Otherwise I would have spent the entire Sunday on my couch, watching TV... which actually sounded wonderful...
In the starting corridor I felt like everybody around me looked so much more prepared for this. 'I can do this,' I mentally told myself, 'The weather is nice, I have enough energy and I'm totally... not ready for this... but I can do it!' Then came the loud bang that announced the start of the run and I... slowly shuffled forward. We all did. At least those of us that were somewhere in the middle. The guys in the front probably tore off running but me and the rest of us 'middle class runners' just slowly walked for the first few minutes of the run. Well, whatever. At least it gave me a few more moments to mentally prepare myself.
A few moments later the crowd started moving faster and the run started for real. And it was great! Just as I started running the perfect song came on in my playlist and I felt full of energy as I watched all the people around me cheering us on, waving and jumping around. There were so many colors around me, the city was full of life, the scenery was amazing and after the first kilometer or so the road went downhill, making the run so much easier than I had expected. I honestly felt like a million bucks and I was certain that I could do this now. We ran through the city, passed the old town and its medieval buildings, turned toward the sea and ran through a beautiful park. Everything seemed perfect! It wasn't too hot or too cold and looking at the sea made me feel calm and energized.
I took this time to observe my surroundings and people around me. On runs like this I usually try to find one person that is just a tiny bit faster than me and 'follow them' - not like a stalker or anything but I find that it's easier to keep going and push yourself if you act like you're trying to keep up with someone. I started looking for that person. There was a girl in front of me with a shirt saying 'Pain is temporary, glory is forever'. I liked that motto and thought it would give me enough motivation for the entire run. As it turned out, however, I was a bit too fast and before I knew it I'd already passed the girl. Oh well, time to find another victim.
And then I saw it: purple latex-pandas. There was some guy in front of me wearing a purple T-shirt with 'Purple Latex-Pandas' written on it and a picture of a pirate-y looking panda underneath the writing. Well... that was... something... I was confused, to say the least, and a bit curious. Was it some sort of sports team? A club? Some kind of... company? I had no idea. But it had caught my attention and I couldn't take my eyes off it. So Mr. 'Purple Latex-Pandas' became my new target. And it worked out pretty well, for most of the time. The guy was slightly faster than me and I had to push myself to keep up with him. I had some sort of motivation to keep going. Every time I thought about slowing down I kept repeating 'Hey, but Purple Latex-Pandas aren't slowing down' and just kept on trucking.
Now, the track was completely new for me - I hadn't run there before but looking at the map beforehand I had a rough idea where we were going and when we had to turn back. That being said, I discovered that I had slightly underestimated how long 21 km really was. At one point I felt like it was already time for the track to turn and start looping back but it just kept going and going and going and going... By that time my initial euphoria and optimism had started to fade and I began feeling the pain in my legs, the sweat on my skin and the burning sun on my back. Still, the first half of the run was relatively pain-free. It wasn't after I started running back that things got a lot harder. The sun was in my face now, there was no shade and I was getting hotter and thirstier every second. I tried to ignore everything and keep going but the longer I ran the more people started to annoy me.
See, it's nice and all that there were people cheering us on, coming to support their loved ones and all that jazz but honestly, after a while you start hating it. Why? Imagine running for over an hour and still having a long way ahead of you - you're dehydrated, tired, sweaty and in pain. And then there's a group of people standing on the sidelines going 'Come on! Faster! You can do it! Just push through it! Go, go, go!'
'Faster'?! 'Push through it'? YOU WANNA COME DOWN HERE AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE?! I physically can't go faster!!! Do you even know what I've been through?! If you want me to go faster then come down here and carry me! I'm half dead here! You think I can do it? You know nothing, Jon Snow! Really, though, in the beginning it's pretty nice to have people cheering you on but after a while, when you're slowly dying from fatigue and you're whole body feels like a ton of bricks, you don't want people screaming at you to go faster. At least I don't. It was exceptionally bad at the finish line when people were yelling for me to go faster. 'Just one last push!', 'Go for it!', 'You're almost there - give it your all now!'. Yeah, thing is, I'd already given it my all. I had no energy to go faster. And the last few hundred meters was an uphill run so I felt that if I were to push myself even a tiny bit more I would probably just end up on the ground before even reaching the finish line. So I kept on trucking at my usual pace and survived the run... without having to walk or stop once. I was pretty happy with myself. Sure, my legs felt like I had concrete shoes on and I'd basically forgotten how to flex my knees (walking downstairs was almost impossible) but I had set a personal record and gotten a huge medal... for participation... but whatever, a medal is a medal, even when it's only for participation.
So, am I going to do it again? Probably. I will probably hate every second of it but I'll still do it. Just to show myself that I can. Besides, if I keep on training I might eventually realize my dream of running the half marathon in under two hours. Wouldn't that be neat...
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