Okay, so that is a bit tongue in cheek.
It’s an arbitrary number. It doesn’t mean anything.
It does. a marathon with a 3:xx means you’re a proper runner. It means you’re in the same league as the athletes, the ones who run 3:02. In the same hour!
It’s a thumb to the fat you, the unfit you, the one who cringed away from photos and friends and who desperately wished to not be known as ‘the fat one’.
It’s a reward for the hours and hours and miles and miles spent pounding away. In good times and bad.
Running is its own reward, I know that.
I still want that time, that one with a 3:xx.
I thought Loch Ness would be The One. I cried when I finished at 4:18. In fact, I cried through the race, once I realised that I’d missed the target. Gone off too fast, too slow, too something. I’d missed the training cues which told me that my pace wasn’t right. Missed them, or ignored them.
My pace steadily declined from March 2014, where I could easily maintain an 8:30min/mil pace, getting a half marathon PB where my pace was 8:17min/mil. Boy, did that hurt. But it felt good. I did 5 miles in under 40 minutes – sub 8min/mil. I got a marathon PB by ten minutes in Paris – 4:12.
Not there though.
So I tried again with Loch Ness. I followed a Plan. I missed the paces. Tried again. Tried harder – longer, faster, earlier sessions. Less food. More food. Different shoes. More bad training runs than good.
Still I got slower.
In the race, something happened. Or rather, nothing happened. I was clipping along quite nicely when I got a stitch. Then my brain whispered (you can’t do this, you’re too slow)
So I started 2015 afresh, with a Coach who’s helped lots of people tumble their PBs and shed pounds. Hooray.
Except. I put on weight. Frustration. Sessions weren’t under my control and sometimes there were inconsistencies – human error or should I be cycling to work on a Sunday?
Did get a parkrun PB though – yay!
Now moving in the right direction but have my own plan. PBs galore have not come my way and I’m heavier than ever. But I have just under eight weeks before Stockholm and I am confident I can do it.
C’mon inner me, let’s do this.