Limassol Marathon
5:00am and the alarm went off. In that moment I was not awake enough to remember I had a marathon to take care of. As I turned off the alarm, “ouch”. My neck! The tightness I had endured about a month ago was back. Not ideal, I thought, as I figured my bearings and remembered it was race day. Aside from that irritation, my morning was chilled. I ate my breakfast, drank my coffee, and did some yoga dance moves that I know my body likes before a run. Dare I say, I was relaxed.
That changed the second I put my race top on, which already had my bib pre-pinned on. I felt nauseous. I told Jack and he replied “yeah, you’re alright!” The nauseous feeling continued as we meandered down to the start, approx 1km from our hotel. Jack prompted me from his bike. “Have you run a marathon before?” “Are you able to do this?” “Do you believe in yourself?” “Are you a good runner?” I said “yes” on repeat. “Do you want me to stop talking?” “Yes”. “Do you want me to leave you alone?” “No!”. Silence it was.
I knew I would start feeling better once I had some familiarity. I like the known. I went through my run warm-up and sipped on some carbs as opposed to eating any more; due to fear of being sick before starting. Gradually things started to feel steady. I was ok. It was cold, but I was gradually warming and dumping layers of clothes with Jack. Thanks mate!!
Once I was good to go, he handed me back 1x T-shirt, and requested I keep it on until right before the gun, because he was concerned I would get too cold waiting. I took the T-shirt and popped it over my shoulders, said goodbye, and made my way to the start.
There were no starting pens, it was a free for all, but I found a good spot a few rows back from the front runners. I decided to wait until the clock said 7:10am, then I would remove the spare T-shirt and be ready for the gun at 7:15am. I was meant to be hammering down with rain. The forecast all week had predicted thunderstorms. It was far from that though. The sky was blue and there were soft white clouds over the ocean to my right. The sun beamed through a fluffy cloud. It was bright, almost white in colour instead of yellow. I reached to get my phone from my pocket to take a photo, only to remember I didn’t have it on me. Shame. My eyes welled with tears as I thought of my friend who left this world earlier this month. Yikes, crying on a start line, that was a new one!
I took off my spare pink T-Shirt and hung it on the railing next to me, as I continued to admire the sunrise. Perhaps distracting myself from the marathon I was about to run, or perhaps grounding myself in the moment. I found GPS and moments later we were off. We ran along the promenade and then took a u-turn onto the road, where we were en route to run out of the city. I reminded myself to be patient.
At 3km a man next to me turned and said “there we go, closing in on 3rd”. I momentarily worried that I was going to be next to a guy counting every KM to me. I looked at my watch and saw it was 3.3km. He wasn’t counting KMs he was counting females. Slightly up ahead there was a pony tail that we were gradually closing in on. He pointed at the cyclist riding next to her, and said “that is how you can tell”. By 4km I overtook her and I heard the man ask the cyclist to confirm if this was third. He corrected “second”. I tried to not pay attention and just run. I was there to just run. But of course the information was already in my head.
From that point on, the course gradually became quiet. Those that had gone out too fast faded. Fast. We chewed through 10km of open quiet roads. Roads that had no spectators or buildings. Just empty roads and the most vivid rainbow overhead. Also would have made a nice photo! But with no phone still, I took a moment to appreciate mother nature.
The cyclist “2nd female” I had picked up at 4km was still in my shadow. I started to see the hilarity in the situation. Was he really going to cruise the entire race with me? Surely not…! I continued to look ahead, to see if there were guys that I might be able to focus on. A dog! What…?! Is that a dog? Yep, a huge stray Alsatian was on the course. Not being a huge dog fan this was an issue. The dog appeared to be tiring but it wasn’t stopping. Which meant I was closing in on it. And sure enough, for about 2km my company was a dog on my left and a bike on my right. Marathons are weird.
Every 5km Jack was right there, as we had arranged. He too was cycling the course, just not with me. He would pop up every 5km and offer water or gels. We absolutely nailed bottle exchanges, gel catches, and arm sleeve drops. (He even managed to squeeze in a quick bike service mid race!!) Aside from Jack’s prompts “see you at 10km…15km….20km”, I didn’t know the distance I had covered in this race until 35km. I was clicking my watch every 30-35 mins in line with when I fuelled, meaning I was not seeing total distance or time on my watch. A method I prefer to help keep me present in a race. (I also didn’t notice the KM markers; apparently they were every km, I was none the wiser!!)
The course was a figure of 8, and at 21km we passed back through near where we started. I was feeling good, and felt like I was holding back. Perfect. I still have no clue what time I went through half way in, but I found Jack as planned at 25km. Then the hills came. Nothing crazy, but enough to know about it in my legs. From 25-35km I knew my pace was slipping for the same RPE. The gradual ups were slowing me, and I tried to make it back a touch on the downs, all while trying to not push too hard and risk popping.
At 35km it was the first time I flicked my watch to total distance and time. I am not entirely sure why I did that; perhaps to double check I was at 35km and not 30km. I was definitely tired by this point. More exhausted than tired. I was not having negative self talk, I didn’t want to stop, but wow I was shattered. My legs were like lead. I had previously told myself now was the time to start kicking. I tried, I really tried. It would work for a few strides at most, then I would fall back again. My pace was slipping, not off a cliff, but just enough seconds for me to know this was not going to be a sub 3:00 day. My ave pace was hovering at 4:20, but my legs were stuck and could not shift gears no matter how much I willed them. I knew my form was deteriorating, at least I had the awareness! But fixing it was a struggle. I had to forget the watch and run with my heart, if I wanted to finish this in a way I felt proud.
At 40km I still had my bike chaperone and also picked up Jack. The two of them cycling on my right shoulder. The chaperone got to make use of his whistle, as I caught some of the back end of the Half Marathon. And Jack used his voice to shout encouragement; until he got kicked off the course, when I took a left back onto the promenade where we had started. He cycled down the road to get to the finish and I ran the 700m home straight. The crowds cheered me in and of course I kicked too soon. 700m is a long way to hold finishing pace. Longest stretch ever!! I looked down and saw 3:03, but still a few hundred metres to go. This was not going to be a PB for my efforts, but I was determined to not let it derail me and I strived to finish as strong as I could.
I crossed the line and wanted more than anything to flop on the floor and lie down. I was done. But I was suddenly surrounded. Cameras, mics, and people talking to me. I wanted to lie down, surely they could see I needed to lie down. I decided to not be too dramatic and instead grabbed a railing to my left, and I propped myself up on it. Weird, my T-shirt from earlier! What are the chances. I took a moment to realise how bizarre running it. Running all that way to just end up exactly where I started. I heard my name by the man on the mic. Followed by him reading my race top. “She’s from Ladies Run Club”. I laughed, and started to walk off. I had a new shadow though. A lovely lady who had been put in charge of me, to ensure that I didn’t wander too far. She put a lanyard over my neck saying “2nd Place Female” and the time of the ceremony on it. Ironically I had no idea what time it currently was though.
She started walking me away from the finishing funnel towards the podium, in the opposite direction to where I knew Jack would meet me. She had a concerned looking in her eye when I told her that he would find us, but she entertained me and waited. And then like magic, an arm over my shoulder. Jack!
Together we then proceeded to the podium for what can only be described as VIP service and hospitality. Well done Limassol for pulling off an incredibly well organised race. A trophy, medal, return flights, and a beer larger than me for my efforts made for some excellent laughs and podium photos.
I can tell you for free that marathons are exhausting. They take a lot. But if you allow, they give a lot too. I periodise my training, my commitments, and lifestyle around them. For me, that works. I am yet to run the “perfect” race, I am not sure that it exists. There are things that have clicked in training that are yet to click in racing. I believe I have more to give to marathons. And as long as I have that feeling, I will keep run marathons.
