Saturday was beautiful. It was a cold, crisp autumnal morning, and I was in Devon. I awoke with the knowledge that I was going for a run, and I was going to push myself. I wanted to test myself. I wanted to see how far I could go.
I’m internally dissecting the idea of doing another marathon, this time in Barcelona, in March. I have paid up, and I have a place. But this time I feel I know what’s ahead. My first marathon was all new ground. There was a lot to learn, and a lot to discover about how far I could push this little body. Now, I know what lies ahead. I know the early mornings, the winter training, the loneliness of the long runs, and the aches and pains of pushing yourself out of your comfort zone.
After the completing the Paris marathon, I was determined to keep my fitness up. Whilst my timings improved, the distance covered quickly dropped off. Then the doubts set in. The most common one, “Can I still run that far?”
Saturday was about uncovering my current fitness level. About discovering how far could I go.
And I did it. I ran 13.1 miles because I could. Not only did I finish with energy left, I also beat my pb. I completed my first sub 2 hour half-marathon, (but only just) coming it at a cheeky 01:59:58.
Me and running, we’re back on!