My inaugural marathon remembered

In a strange set of circumstances, yesterday I received emails from two of my dearest friends, one living in Vancouver and the other in Bristol (to protect their self-image I’ll call them Lance and Malcolm). When I look back over the last 15 years, I can portion it into distinct eras based entirely on who I ran with. Lance and Malcolm were running partners #2 and #3 respectively, and boy did we learn a lot (the hard way). I signed up for my first marathon, the Royal Victoria Marathon based on Lance’s encouragement and if for no other reason because he had signed up the week earlier. Neither of us knew anything about running and built our training around the programs and advice found in Runners World. Last night I rummaged through my old diaries and training logs finding these two entries:

“Today is now two days after my first ever marathon. Lance and I ran the Royal Victoria Marathon and it was fantastic. 0k-21k was a slow paced 1:38:00, 21k-32k an incredibly fast 10k in 41’ and then 32k-42k painfully slow… as I hit a tremendous wall. To quote, I felt like a four-legged bug with my two right legs torn off. But, I finished with a time of 3:38:00. It was the most incredible feeling to cross the finish line. I loved it. Tomorrow I’m sending in my application for the Vancouver International Marathon.” - October 12, 1994

“It’s a fantastic day out. Overcast with thick fog. I love it. My legs have recovered completely from the marathon now. People are still asking me about it. I love it!” - October 13, 1994

Tonight it was dark, wet and stormy and my experience on the track was far from enjoyable and nothing but character building. It has been raining hard throughout the day, flooding most of the infield; when I arrived I found waterfowl in lanes one through three.

The workout was simple, 6x800 at 5k pace -15” (2’), unfortunately despite my body being present my motivation and fortitude was elsewhere. Not only that, some bugger, and there was only two of us out there, tried to steal my toque that I’d left at the side to help mark the finish. When I confronted him he said I’d run right passed it and assumed it wasn’t mine, (bastard didn’t stop to ask). Anyhow, the wind soared and I struggled. The last interval was a real effort and a little misleading; I rounded the last corner and was literally knocked two lanes over as a massive gust left me standing still.

2:36, 2:36, 2:37, 2:39, 2:38, 2:41

Training: 1:03:31 with 6x800 (2’)