Sunshine Coast Marathon
It was 5am, and I was stood under a tree with Jack in the pouring rain. The start area and road for the race was empty, there was no queue for the toilets; it seemed everyone was taking shelter. Occasionally we would see someone make a run for it to bag drop, sacrificing their trainers that they were trying to keep dry. By 5:35am I decided I should probably do some jogging pre-race, the rain had eased slightly. The starting areas were still deserted, so I was able to run briefly up and down the starting pens A and B, do a couple of dynamics and strides then make it back to Jack to leave my (his) waterproof with him. I told myself the first 5km would be my warm-up then!
The gun was bang on time, and I was only a few rows back from the front. Swept along with the masses I thought “Aussies like a sprint start!” By the first 1km I could hear a stampede coming up behind and realised it was the 3:00 hour pacer and bus. There must have been 60-70 runners in there. I involuntary got wedged in the middle somehow. I checked my watch at 5km and knew were coming in a bit fast, but I made the conscious decision to stay with this group as opposed to running solo.
It was busy, there was accidental clipping and tripping. There was no way to avoid the large puddles or sometimes rivers that seemed to appear on the open roads, the occasional u-turns were tight, to say the least. It stayed like this for 25km. I really don’t have much to reflect on here, we were just running and clicking through the miles. The group would get disjointed at water stations and reform again. I felt like I was running backwards. My effort was so incredibly easy. I found myself at the front of the pack at 25km and noticed there was a smaller pack of about 4-5 runners slightly up ahead, I jumped on their bus and looking back now, I was in flow state. We were rolling. My breathing was under control. My legs and lungs working in harmony.
Then 30km happened. I didn’t see the distance marker, but Jack was standing on the side of the road with water, which we had agreed would happen every 5km. I took the water and gave him a half eaten gel that I no longer wanted to carry. I felt sick.
Gradually at first then all of a sudden the nauseous feeling set in. I dropped off my bus, and then got caught and overtaken by the larger sub 3 bus. I tried to drink water, but it came straight back out. Both the pacer and Marcus told me to just hang onto the back, but I faded. My shoulders rounded and my bounce stopped, I was in survival mode. I saw both Marcus and Jack individually across the next 5km, I said nothing. I didn’t want to say out loud that I felt horrendous. Instead my narrative, as cliche as it sounds, to myself was “this too shall pass”.
I had been lapping my watch every time that I fuelled, so that I could keep track of time between gels. I could see that my current lap time was slower than the ones previously. The course merged with the HM and my sub 3 bus totally disappeared in the distance. At 35km I flipped my data screen on my watch to see total distance and total average pace, as opposed to lap. It read 35km, Ave Pace 4:13.
This was the furthest I had ever come in a marathon holding that pace. There was 7km to go, and I asked myself what story I wanted write today. That I was on “track until 30-35km”, that I “got a PB”, or that I “ran a sub 3"? I knew it was going to hurt no matter which option, but I also knew this was the part of the marathon where you have to get to work. I had not lost hope. It was right there before me, I had to try. I scanned myself, and where possible corrected my form.
The HM runners that lined the course were a blessing. I gradually picked them off, until I could see the white balloons of the pacer up in the distance again. They were a long way off still, but I also had plenty of people to navigate running through, which kept me focussed. My fuelling was a no, but Jack had a gatorade for me, which tasted like magic.
I kept my watch on total distance and ave pace, and pushed to not let it get slower than 4:15. It didn’t. I felt like I was now running a 10km race, I was working, and weirdly someone in the HM field recognised me from Dubai. Sorry I didn’t stay to chat mate, I knew this was going to be down to seconds not minutes.
At 40km I had 2:51 showing on my watch, I was still in the game. My own game that I was creating. No one would have been mad, disappointed, or upset at me if I had run a 3:01. My life was not going to change by running a 2:59, I knew that. But I was in such belief that I could do it; I just had to keep on trying. I knew I was not going to slow down, what I didn’t know was where the finish line was in relation to me, and if I was running the course long. By this point I was at 4:00 pace and not letting up. I was absolutely not thinking about my form anymore, I was hustling.
I knew the finishing chute was going to be a left hand slip road past the start line, but I didn’t know how far down the slip road I would need to run. My watch clicked over to 42.2km and I could still not see the finish. I was on 2:58 on my watch and then I saw the sub 3 pacer. He was standing in the middle of the road trying to cheer in any last sub 3 potentials. He told me I was there and I just had to get into the chute and finish it off.
I turned the corner, saw the finish, and the clock. The relief…it was only 100m away, and it was in that moment I knew I was going to do it. The man on the mic was geeing the crowd up about the final few marathon runners coming in attempting to slip in under 3 hours. They were looking at the runners and back up at the clock on repeat. I think there was 3 or 4 of us in that moment. He caught my eye and said “we have a female coming through, she’s gonnnnnnaaaaa do itttttt!!!”
2:59:34. Pure elation.
I walked through the funnel, turned back to thank the pacer, then went and got some water and to find Jack. Like any race finish, it was swamped with people in every direction. I didn’t mind, I felt great. This goal was incredibly intrinsically driven. I have been working towards it since 2021, it has given me drive, focus, and purpose in my training and life. And I am very proud that I achieved it.
I located Jack on the beach, as planned, then we located Marcus and went and sat in the sun, that had decided to finally appear, to eat croissants. It was all very ordinary in such a wholesome way. I have immense gratitude for both of them being in my life and helping me.
The messages and support post race have been insane. And I am truly grateful at just how many people reached out. For me, nothing has changed; in a good way. My life, running, coaching, friends, family…everything is the same. I didn’t need this time to prove anything to anyone or to myself, I just had belief that I could do it. I am not on cloud 9 nor am I in a slump. I am not retiring from running or done with setting goals. I love running, and for as long as I love it, I will continue.
Yes, this goal took us the best part of 5 years. I remember very vividly asking Marcus in 2021 what sort of time frame we were looking at. He didn’t sugar coat it, or tell me something I might prefer to hear. He told me the truth “it might take 5 years”. At the time I was deep in my post marathon blues having run a 3:19 in Abu Dhabi. I could not even vision as far as the next week, and this guy could see the next 5 years! It gave me hope. I had trust and I just went “ok!”. What happened over those 5 years is nothing shy of incredible and to be honest I need more time to reflect fully. But I had the space and the time to work on the areas that I needed to most. There have been just as many hours walking, talking, and writing as there have been running. Of course there were setbacks, injuries, sickness and falls, they all had their place, and will continue to.
As time went on I learnt to see the bigger picture. This was not about running a sub 3 at all. This was about everything I could learn along the way. Occasionally I wondered if it was not coming to me because I had more to learn. Much like a degree; you don’t get through it all in year 1, but eventually you chip away and walk across the stage with a sheet of paper. One tiny moment in time, a 100m walk… if that, that signifies the 4 years prior.
On the 15th June, Jack and I flipped our lives upside down and moved from Dubai to Australia. Leaving behind security, comfort, familiarity, and the life that we had spent the last 7 years building in search of a different way of life. I went from having a daily coaching and training structure (that I had in place for 6 years) to having nowhere to be and no one to meet. Far from the “ideal” marathon training conditions. I did not smash out massive track sessions or building long runs. For sure, I ran with intent and there was purpose, but I also ran to explore, to meet people and for joy. My longest run was 32km in 40kph winds, but I smiled and embraced the chaos. I stopped waiting for perfection and realised perfection was all down to my interpretation.
