Trampled Under Foot

On paper I should have got a good time in the Newport marathon on Sunday. I’ve had 18 months to prepare, however the training hadn’t gone well.

I’d been getting better times on my training runs before the Greenman festival, then thought that I’d just have a good time all of the time over the weekend, and that my pace would spring back when I dug in again. It didn’t spring back and a cough I’ve had for awhile with a gunky lung thing got worse. i just pushed through hoping that it would clear up, but so far it hasn’t. Added to this I think I got a bit complacent in terms of my diet. i have a sweet tooth and over indulged in sugary treats thinking ‘Well I’m training for a marathon I can afford the calories.’ as a result i think i was on the heavier scale of my running weight. So when I was at the start line on Sunday I was pretty nervous.

I wanted to get the train to Newport but infuriatingly there wasn’t one early enough so Sian - bless her - drove me. I got into Newport very early around 7:40 a.m for a 9 start. Newport ain’t a pretty city at the best of times, but as I walked down to the marathon start - my feet kicking empty nitrous oxide capsules - it had a distinct dystopian vibe. Newport was so deserted that I started to think ‘Shit, I have got the right location for the start line?’ but it wasn’t too long before I saw other runners. I got a coffee and hung out being twitchy in a university building close to the start line. I talked to a fellow runner called Howard who seemed to have had a pretty serious spine injury recently and I nearly said ‘Should you be doing this run?’ but that’s not what you want someone to say to you ahead of 26.2 miles.

I was very pensive on the start line, the gun went off, i jumped, then we were off. I had every reason to be pensive cause my gunky lungs nearly knocked me off my feet. I was in real trouble in the first two miles I was coughing up all sorts (not the sweets), my eyes were streaming and i could barely catch my breath. I was getting sideways glances from other runners and I did think that i might have to drop out of the marathon. Thankfully things settled down and I got into a groove but at no point did I hit the pace that i wanted,.

After the fourth mile i realised it wasn’t going to be my year and that i wasn’t going to get a great time, which wasn’t helped by the 3:15 pace setter passing me fairly early on. I then spent the next ten miles beating myself up over what went wrong. I suppose in those circumstances you know that you’re a marathon runner cause I knew that I had to get into a better frame of mind, and besides I had 10+ miles still to run. My mantra became ‘I’m going to run my race, this race’ and just chugged through the miles. The running conditions were good, mild but with a bit of drizzle, so I just settled in and tried to enjoy it.

The inevitable calcification of my legs - and especially my back which was in half - started to happen around the twentieth mile and then it was just a grind until the finish lean. I saw a male runner struggling at around mile twenty two and a femaie supporter offered to rub his legs for him, which he respectfully declined. The finish line couldn’t come into view soon enough and I did have enough in the bank for a sprint finish and then felt very wobbly,

Not great. I’ve rationalised it and know what I’m going to do differently for the Cardiff half in March. I’m getting my chest checked out to see what the problem is. I do regret posting on Facebook that I was disappointed by my time cause it was a prickish and seemed like a humble brag where i was fishing for validation, which i wasn’t, honest. Anyway as ever, I still think I’ve got a PB/sub three hour marathon in me, blah blah blah…