The Big Day

I did it!!

As the day of my 10k run loomed ever closer, I started having doubts as to whether I'd be able to make it. I totally failed to do any running at all last week, and by Friday, I'd lost all enthusiasm for it. Worst case scenario, I'd have to walk it, I thought.

Sunday morning, 8am I had to get up. I had to be at Victoria Park for 10am, 30 minutes before my wave started. I felt fine as I had some cereal and some juice to keep my strength up. However, by the time I got to the bus the nervousness and apprehension kicked in. I didn't want to let myself down. I felt bad for not having done any training during the week, even though I had taken Wednesday off work for that very purpose. Having set myself my first physical challenge, was I going to fail? Sitting on the bus going to the park, I sat quietly thinking. It was too late to change my mind about the run. I'd dragged my boyfriend early out of bed to support me, I'd made him run with me on Sundays that could have been better spent relaxing, I'd paid the fee and put in the time training myself. It was all just a matter of forming a strategy. Mind over matter, girl. I was fairly certain I was fit enough to make it.

When I got to the park, the first wave was already on their way round, presumably on their second lap. I watched them, faces set in concentration, a small army of red Nike shirts and black shorts. Wow, these guys are taking it seriously I thought.
As I approached the starting point, I could suddenly see a gigantic crowd of people in red. This must be the rest of my wave, I thought. I had no more time to worry. A voice came on over the tannoy asking wave 2 runners to go to the starting pen. I had just about enough time for a power pee before joining the rest of the crowd. I felt a sudden rush of energy and excitement. This was it! I'd waited some six weeks for this. I stared out through the railings at the spectators as I did a few stretches and waited for the gun to fire. I've been there before, I thought. On the other side of the fence watching a crowd of psyched-up crazies sacrificing a sunday morning to run around a park. It's so different on this side of the fence. Each person here has their reason for running. We're all hoping to make it in good time, our very presence giving testament to our commitment. I was hoping that I wouldn't be stretchered off twitching.

The nervous energy threatened to spill over and I started bouncing up and down. There was a loud chatter amongst the runners. Then suddenly, a countdown and off we went. Too large a crowd, we all walked until we hit the starting post and each of us then broke into a jog. It was pretty easy to get to 5k. I'd found a comfortable pace and was barely sweating. I considered my options at this point. I really wanted to make the run without stopping. I also wanted to make the run within an hour and I wasn't sure if I could manage it at that pace. I decided to wait to decide, it was still too early. I continued but picked up the pace a tiny bit. At 7k my legs had started to notice the work I was putting them through. Slowing down wasn't an option now - it was painful to slow down so I kept going. By 9k I was seriously contemplating stopping, it was a mental struggle to ignore my aching leg muscles and I couldn't seem to get enough air into my lungs. I really wanted to stop. I told myself off. You can't stop now. You're doing this for yourself. No one else will care if you stop, they will understand, but you won't be able to forgive yourself for not trying harder. I reminded myself that I had conquered Oblivion. This was merely feeling tired. As I have been told, I am a pretty stubborn woman and was utterly determined to make it without walking. That last kilometre seemed like 100 miles. All around me people were giving up and walking. I started running faster. Getting there faster would mean less suffering I thought.

By the time I got to the final bend and the finishing line was in sight, I pushed myself to the limit and sprinted (as much as I can sprint, being a shortarse) towards to end. I can still remember the elation that I felt as I ran that those final metres, seeing my smiling boyfriend waiting with the camera, hearing the cheering and clapping around me. The minutes that followed were a bit of a blur. My body wanted to collapse, my legs stopped going on autopilot, I absently mindedly collected a medal and went to seek water. I looked at my watch. I'd made it in under an hour. It was the icing on the cake.