What I’d tell myself before running my first marathon
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I was forced to become a runner.
You know those families people joke about that go for a run together on Christmas morning? That’s my family. And usually it’s not just a run. The run is sometimes followed by many laps on the bikes at the local velodrome or a brisk walk with the dogs to ‘shake your legs out’.
Growing up, I didn’t have a choice. Becoming a runner was inevitable.
Fast forward to now, and I can proudly say I’ve run four full ‘official’ marathons, quite a few half marathons, and a bunch of fun runs. If I could go back and have a chinwag with ‘pre-marathon’ Sammy, these are the things I’d tell her.
1. “Nothing new on race day” Is not a suggestion…IT’S LAW
This isn’t a cute tip you can casually ignore. This is gospel. That adorable new running top you bought? Save it for literally any other day. Those gels your friend swears by? If you haven’t tested them in training, chances are you’ll be making multiple trips to the porta potty. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT try anything new on race day.
2. The first 10ks will feel suspiciously easy – it’s a trap
You’re going to feel AMAZING for the first few kilometres. The adrenaline will be pumping, the crowd will be cheering, and you’ll think “Why was I even nervous? I’ve got this!”
Let me be very clear: this is a lie your body is telling you. Do not race the guy who’s sprinting beside you through the first 5ks. You will see him again later, and he’ll most likely be walking because he went too fast too soon.
Pace yourself like your life depends on it, because your legs certainly do.
3. It’s mind over matter – Your mind will break before your body does
Here’s the truth nobody tells you: your body is capable of way more than your brain wants to believe. Around 35 kays in, your mind will start playing tricks on you. It’ll tell you to stop. It’ll say you can’t do this. It’ll catalogue every reason why stopping right there and then is the right choice.
But your body? Your body can keep going.
The wall is real, but it’s mostly mental. Half the battle is convincing yourself to keep moving. Pure, delusion-fueled determination will carry you further than you think possible.
4. Someone dressed in a three-piece suit, tutu, or Superman costume will pass you
At some point during your race, someone in a full costume will overtake you. This will be humbling, and all you can do is accept it with grace. You paid money for this experience, as did they.
You’ll also become weirdly emotional when strangers yell your name from your bib number. The crowd support from random people will restore your faith in humanity while simultaneously making you cry. And don’t forget to thank the volunteers handing out cups of Hydralyte and water, who are also taking the time to cheer us psychos on.
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5. Incorporate time into your pre-race morning for a nervous wee at the porta-potty
For some runners, the porta-potty line before the race will test your emotional resilience more than the marathon itself.
It is always long, and you always need more time than you thought you would to line up for a nervous wee. It goes without saying: be organised and set all your gear up the morning before, so you can get out the door on time and you’re feeling as calm (as possible) when you start your big run.
6. Plan your post-run feast
One of the great things about running a marathon is the meal you get to devour afterwards. For me, the ultimate post-marathon feed is a choccy thickshake, a cheeseburger and salty fries.
It’s the meal that gets me through those dark kilometres, when my quads are burning or my calves are cramping.
7. Enjoy it
If you’re reading this in the lead-up to your first big race, my final piece of advice would be to try and enjoy it. Remember that less than one per cent of the world’s population has ever completed a full marathon. Talk to your fellow runners, compliment them on that cute tutu they’re trotting in, or encourage them if they look like they’re struggling.
Running a marathon is an incredible achievement, and no matter the time on the clock when you cross the finish line – in my eyes you are elite.
Now if only that same rule applied to me amongst my family of fit psychos when we lace up for our morning run on Christmas Day.
