Balls to the wall. How to run a marathon alone?
The story of a lonely marathon runner.
“Balls to the wall” is what my running partner George called my idea to run a marathon alone. Fair and accurate, purely in British style. He was supposed to accompany me all the way on a bike. But it was cold (December outside) and we canceled the bike right before the start. My wife was deeply involved as usual — she was responsible for the aid and food stations. So I had to run back and forth not to miss food stations.
The solo marathon is a pure mental run. From the very beginning, you are left alone with yourself and your thoughts. There are not so many of them, but they insistently and treacherously whisper the same thing: “Don’t suffer, no one will appreciate this! Just stop and have some rest. No one will even notice.”
At competitions, we are surrounded by rivals with whom we compete, spectators who cheer, volunteers who care, and so on. The finish line in the end gives strength and everyone around runs without a single thought to give up. While running alone you have nothing of it. Just your body, your thoughts, and Garmin, which counts kilometers too slowly.
George paced me for the first 10 km. After that, I had to only rely on myself. Having run 21.1 km, I realized that there is still a half marathon left. This thought immediately hits the legs. But George, who appears just in time, and once again decided to pull me for 5 km, finds important words: “Stay relaxed, stay focused”. And that works. At least for a while.
By the 27th km, these words disappear and it slows me down. After the 27th km Eliud Kipchoge just started to push and run away from his rivals at the Olympic Marathon in Tokyo. Why am I worse than Kipchoge? My ego feeds on this sweet thought and I run to 36th km in this fantasy.
After the 36th, there are no more positive thoughts, only pain in the legs and looking at the Garmin every 500m. What if a miracle happens and I only have a couple of kilometers left? But no! Everything changes very slowly.
Where are you, rivals? Hey! Spectators! Where to get external energy and support?
Only my wife helps. She is patiently waiting for me with a bottle of cola at the “aid station”. Running past her, I catch her caring look, grab a bottle, and take two sips — this is enough to keep rolling for the next 500 m. At least I have my personal bottle — that’s what came to my mind! 38th km.
My suffering score breaks through the roof. My right leg starts to cramp. I switch to running like a wounded moose. The same way as Lionel Sanders is usually running. 39th km.
Now the calf on the left leg joins the cramping party. I have to adapt — just not to slow down. A loop through the forest helps a little, running on the ground, although slower, but more reliable — fewer hits. On the 40th km, changing the surface is something that matters.
I look at my watch again — 40 km 200 m. I might have experienced a surge of energy because the finish line is very soon. But there is none. There is only forest, unmelted snow around and no finish line.
Here comes George on the bike, wrapped in strange clothes. He begins to say some very right words. I cannot hear them, but I feel his support in the vacuum of sensations. Plus, his funny look involuntarily causes me to smile. He turns to me and says: “You are like Kipchoge, he also smiles when he runs to the finish line” Again this Kipchoge … But how well it works! 41st km.
Further 600 m forward, turn 180 degrees, and another 600 m. I’d better swim through them! Finish only in Garmin. Instead of spectators, there are dogs around (where did they come from). Another 200 meters. Dogs again. At 42.22 km I stop the clock and that’s it. Full stop.
After the finish, I’m quite alive. My big Respect and Thanks to my wife Nastya and George. For the care, moments of support, the right words, and positive emotions, without them I definitely would not have run.
Oh yes. Garmin shows 2 hours 42 minutes. Not bad.
Oleg Mazurov, OMY! Sports