2014

I had my breakfast early on.  Now all I had was time.  I fetched an old newspaper and looked for a Sudoku.  And I placed one number after another.  I got reminded of logic.  After being inundated with a hubris of thoughts, my mind straightened and I started reasoning things out. 

I reminded myself: the training went extremely well, I got three pb’s in my last four 10k races, I want this badly enough, the target time set by our coach is scientific.  It is now all about placing one step after another rather than numbers.  I owe myself a good time in a half marathon to be happy with.

As I got in the car on the way to Mdina, the stereo went on.  David Bowie blared on, but after a few seconds it annoyed me.  I needed silence and this time I preferred the even sound of the engine instead.

I arrived in time to cheer the Mellieha AC marathoners on the starting line-up with 42 kilometres ahead of them.  I now had over an hour before my start.

A little warm-up, a rendezvous of blue vested friends, and soon enough I found myself on the starting line, with two team-mates closer than others targeting a similar time.  The gun went off.  It was time to just run.

The first kilometre went as planned.  The second the same, the third also.  The fourth slightly faster.  I was getting happy with my average pace showing on my watch.  I was banking from the downhills, but not too much, fearing I would burn myself inside the first half, which basically is the overriding memory of last year.

Soon enough, I passed the Km10 mark, if I remember right on the flat road of Mrieħel.  I was getting close to the half way mark, and as I kept my pace, I could feel my heart beating faster.  In some way, I felt less at ease, in another way, happy that I could maintain it.  A bit like in a speeding vehicle, you get the fear, but you also get the thrill.

Then came the 16th kilometre, the kilometre of the steady hill in depressive surroundings.  It took me longer, a full 20 seconds beyond my target.  I was afraid this could be it, but as I dug in my reserves, I found a positive answer in the timing of the kilometre that followed.  I was now getting closer and closer, but looking back I don’t think I was thinking of the finishing line as yet.  It’s when I finished the 19th kilometre that I remember shouting to my fellow mates ‘it’s just 2 to go’.  The 20th did feel hard, but then it got better on the 21^st.  It was now time for the last stretch, supposed to be 100 metres but always is more on the Garmin.

Then, the finishing line, stopping of the watch, confirmation of hitting the target time.

The watch showed 1:33:56. 

I bettered last year’s personal best by over 7 minutes.

The coach was there waiting, a bit dazed, but planting his feet on the ground out of loyalty towards us.  (I later learned our top runner had a very difficult last 2 kilometres in the marathon, but eventually strove on.)  And it was then a celebration of high-fives, hugs, photos together, congratulations to each other.

During the week, we said we’ll drink this, we’ll drink that amount in the evening.  We met in a pub, but we just had a couple.  The celebration was done all hours before.  And like after a war, I and probably most of us didn’t want fireworks, as they’re too similar of bombs.

Now rested, tomorrow I am back on the road.