New Years Day Marathon: Breaking the sub 4 hour Marathon

For the past 3 years now I have had a tradition that on the morning of New Year's Day I run a full 26.2 mile (42 km) Marathon starting from my front door and finishing at my front door. By that I mean alone, mostly unsupported on my own route.
I started this tradition because I figured it would be a good idea to start the new year on a good note. But one may think how could putting yourself through cold, pain and misery on the first day of the year possibly be a good way of starting the new year? To me its all about starting the new year doing something I love, and that is running. Whilst at the same time overcoming physical and mental pain and exercising a huge amount of discipline. In a way it stems from the idea that if you can run 26.2 miles alone deal with the pain, you should be able to deal (on principle) with whatever negativity the year will at some point inevitably throw at you.

The previous year the 1st of January 2017 was a complete disaster, everything about it went wrong. I was wearing running shoes I had never used before, eating food I'd never tried while running before, carrying heavy equipment I didn't need. I was set up for failure. In addition the route I picked was a poor choice, a lot of off road running on uneven surfaces not really suited to my style. Plus the weather on the day resulted in me running into a freezing cold headwind for over half the route. The ultimate result from the experience that day was a BIG FAT DNF (did not finish). I cracked mentally after about 32 km, at which point I started to freeze and hypothermia was on the verge of setting in, so I called it a day. Utterly demoralised and disappointed in myself, I was determined for this to never happen again.

The equipment for my first year years day marathon, completed in 5 hours and 25 minutes. Slow, but made it to the finish.

I'm grateful to say that this New Years Marathon was a very different story. I woke up in bed at 5:55 AM with the intention of being out the door by 7AM giving myself an hour to get ready, and 5 minutes to sit on the edge of my bed to shut up the negative voices in my head. Will all have them, when the alarm goes off and we've got to get up to do something that in that moment we don't want to do. I'm sure the reader can relate.
I threw on my running clothes with aggression, put my headphones on, hit play to help guide my attitude in that very moment out of the early morning mindset and into one ready to attack the day (or in this case the year) with mighty and furiousious aggression. I headed downstairs to the kitchen where I drank two pints of water, and made a bowl of porridge. While I waited for the porridge to heat in the microwave I taped up my feet to deal with any potential blister issues out on the route and put plasters on my nipples (chafing prevention...Not something you want to forget). I was fed, hydrated, fired up put my pack on with the ABSOLUTE necessities, sat down calmly to bow my head and pray. To give thanks to God for our existence, his grace and the guidance he has given to me. As well as to ask for further guidance and to bless a long list of people I wont bore you with. After I had finished my conversation, I got up onto my feet and headed out.

The plan was to run two 11 km loops and then two 10 km loops. Each passing my house where I had left a bottle of flat coke by the front door. Flat coke is the endurance athlete's best friend because all it is is water, sugar and caffeine (plus a little sodium to help ward off cramping).

There are good days and bad days with running...

A few days before on Christmas day I had run a half marathon at a faster pace than usual, on less food I had eaten than on this occasion and I felt great. I felt well fuelled, relaxed, legs felt really good even at the end. However this was not the case on New Year's day. I had only had an hour and a half of sleep, and had woken up with a cold. After 5 km I was questioning whether or not I had fuelled enough, but I tried to stay relaxed and just told myself I'd have coke to drink in 6 km from that point. After the first 11 km lap my legs started to deteriorate. Which I thought was ridiculous because I can run 10ks standing on my head at this point in my current state of fitness. But again I applied the golden rule of just staying relaxed and plodded on. I was setting a good pace and running to my heart rate, keeping it between 150 and 160 BPM whilst cruising at 5:15 per KM. So all was going well despite the set backs of feeling hungry very soon into the run, and my legs starting to hurt alarmingly early on into the course.

I fought on, as I approached the end of the second 11 km lap, with my stomach starting to become distressed, I had to pause a few times, to hunch over to dry heave a few times. But thankfully this only eat into my overall time for just a few seconds, so no harm done. And I expected that I'd feel the need to vomit at some point on this course. But at the same time I was partially concerned by how early on this was occurring after my alright performance on Christmas day before church.

I began to go through a whirlwind of emotions mid way through the first 10 km loop where I had about 14 more KM to go. at around 32 KM I felt like an absolute beast, I didn't care I felt I needed to puke here and there, I didn't care that my legs were in agony. The fact of the matter was, I was setting a solid pace and was well on track to a personal best in the marathon. But literally a few moments later I was knocking on deaths door, I felt like I just wanted to die. But again, I stayed relaxed, they're just feelings. At the end of your feelings is nothing, but at the end of every principle is a promise. After the third lap past my house, my mum came out in the car to meet me in places with more flat coke and water to replenish sugars and fluid. At this point things really became a battle in the mind. I found myself yelling at me at points as if I was another person looking at inward in third person, shouting to not give up. I can't really recall all the mad outbursts I had in order to just keep moving forward, again still at a good pace floating around the 5:20 per KM mark. So again, all was going relatively well despite the war now raging in my head. I was astonished at the amount of bull crap my brain would come up with to try an persuade me to give up, finish early, turn around to head back or JUST PLAIN QUIT. But I was driven. Driven by the pure fear of being a quitter. I remembered the words of Lance Armstrong, "My mom didn't raise a quitter". And nor did mine. At this point my mum was seeing me every few KM to hand me fluid or to give me and extra layer, it being a cold January with the temperature floating around 4 degrees C with a horrific wind chill.

Blowing up...

At 39 km in, my legs were shot, my heart and lungs were completely done. I couldn't physically hold the pace anymore without hyperventilating and feeling faint. But Thankfully I had banked enough speed and time to still clock a sub 4 hour marathon. I slowed the for the last few KM to just under 10 minutes per KM, a snails pace, but still moving forward. I finished in a time of 3 hours and 54 minutes. Knocking over an hour of my previous personal best. I was glad it was over, and glad to be humbled in the way I was. I had walked away with accomplishing the best marathon I have ever ran, despite the lack of sleep and fuel. But at the same time I had been humbled. It was a fine way for some of my arguably high levels of arrogance to be put in its place, and an undoubtably good start to the year.

The proof is in the pudding, or in this case in the Garmin.

Victory

I got inside, drank some tea and had a shower. Afterwards I headed upstairs to see if my girlfriend had woken up yet, so we could make some pancakes. Any notion of sorrow or negativity that I gained out on the course was immediately swept away just by the sight of her face. Holding the fast pace earlier was made easier by the notion of the faster I cracked this 26.2 miles, the faster I would be back inside, in the warm indoors with her.

But I like to think I would have held a good pace anyway 0:) Who knows.