When the Wheels Came Off
I’m not sure if you’re feeling this way too, but there is a lot of success around at the moment- on socials, on Strava, I can’t move for it, it’s everywhere I look. Success is wonderful, of course, and absolutely deserves to be celebrated. But in it’s shadow I imagine are a lot of other people feeling, and not sharing, a huge sense of failure and shame from a recent event.
It’s so rare that people, especially running coaches who stake their whole career on these things, share these stories, but after reading about another coach (Lazy Girl Running) sharing her Boston Marathon (Lincolnshire not Massachusetts) where she writes so openly about feeling like a failure and that she’d “let everyone down” for not hitting her time target, it inspired me to share a few of my own. First up, Paris Marathon, 2018.
Paris parkrun 2018 vs Paris Marathon 2022
I know I get a fair few comments about my “poised” Paris Marathon photo that I share each year (don’t worry, I’m not signed up for Paris 2026) so I thought I’d share my story again of where it all started.
In 2018 I had a place to run Paris marathon. Four members of my running club, RunVerity, had also got caught up in my excitement of running in this wonderful city and were also running it. But while this would be all of their first marathon, and completing it in one piece was their primary objective, mine was speed. The last time I’d run it in 2014 I’d got a great time of 4:01, but I’d missed out on the elusive, coveted sub-4 hour target and this time around I was absolutely determined I would get it.
Ironically, it was the weight and responsibility of building and running my running club, pouring all my time and energy into helping my members meet their own goals, that meant my own training fell slightly by the way side in the build up.
Look back now, it’s easy to see that I had completely lost light of the bigger picture. I still have my 16-week training diary from that time, and I can clearly see that I was literally cramming as many speed sessions into my already packed week that was humanly possible. I was running lots of miles, yes, but I was just too exhausted to include quality speed sessions. In fact, I was all about quantity and quality was a luxury I just did not have time for.
I was running all my training runs “fast”. I didn’t slow down on my long weekend runs. I ran tough speed sessions early in the mornings, the only time I could squeeze them in, and then spent my evenings running (literally and figuratively) two successive RunVerity groups.
On the days when I only had one RunVerity session to lead and teach, I made sure I also ran before with friend who pushed my “normal” pace. Add to this, I had a lot going on at home as well. Our youngest daughter moved back in with us, she very much needed our support. Stress was coming at me from all angles, physically and psychologically. And I’m sure you can guess what happened. The wheels fell off.
Reflecting now, it was a perfect storm.
In February 2018 I ran Portsmouth half marathon in new shoes and I remember being in excruciating pain for the second half of the run. The shoes were a different brand and didn’t have the usual support that I needed. But I soldiered on as most runners do and I just ignored the pain and got it done. But afterwards, as I overloaded more training onto my already weakened body, I gave no time for adaption and recovery, all the culmative stress found this weak spot in my foot.
The finish of Portsmouth Half Marathon Feb 2018, I still remember how much pain I was in.
With Paris rapidly approaching in April I sought advice from a physio, and was told that I probably would be able to hobble around the marathon but reaching for the sub 4 would more likely break me. It was gut-wrenchingly hard and deeply embarrassing, but I knew I really had no choice but to pull out.
Of course, I still had to go, it was my job to support the four other RunVerity runners, all basically doing it because I’d cheerleaded them in to it…
I had to remain professional and positive and said, to them and myself, “it’s ok, I’ll run Paris parkrun the day before the marathon,.I’ll get a t-shirt as well, it will be absolutely FINE”. I was FINE, ok?
In fact it wasn’t until I returned to try again in 2022, that I realised the full impact of not being able to run 4 years ago had had on me. It was extremely hard not being part of the marathon team, not being in the finishers photo with the celebratory medal. I experienced real unpalatable race envy, while having to plaster a smile on my face to support others. It was a really low moment in my running life, and my ‘real’ life. But I also learned some very, very important lessons.
Looking at these two pictures now, I see two entirely different runners. And I know that if I put alongside this a picture of me from Paris this April, 2024, I’d be looking at a different runner again. Because I never stop learning, and running never stops teaching me- about running, sure, but mostly about myself. Some of it is really ugly and confronting, and there is also joyous stuff too.
I often think and write of running as my best friend, but maybe that’s not quite the right description. Maybe it’s an older, wiser mentor who is showing me literally which path to take, how to challenge myself to grow.
I know that runners always want to know how many miles they should do and for how long and at what pace and that is so important as well, but learning these things takes time, though. There are no shortcuts. Learning what works for you and what doesn’t and how to listen to your body is all part of the process; and what I learned from 2018 is that sometimes we must go backwards to move forwards.
Next time you think you’ve failed, try and look at the big picture and see what you can learn from your running wise elder.