It's still not sunk in...
It's a strange feeling, I ran my first Marathon on Sunday at the 39th Belgrade Marathon. I was very emotional the night before imagining how I'd feel at the finish line, all the work I'd put in, all the hours spent locking in, pounding the pavement, knowing that I'm a different person to the one I was 8 months ago when I agreed to this mad idea.
Looking back I'm extremely happy with how it all went, told myself I'd be happy to finish and get somewhere around the 4 hour mark. I did a 5:40 per km pace from 0-15km, then 5:30 per km from 15-30, had planned to lay off a bit after 30km but pushed on with the pace as I was feeling good.
At 38km the wheels fell off in a dramatic way, my right leg went completely stiff and I had to crawl to the side of the road to try stretch it out, que Garmin watch ending my activity and calling SoS, I managed to cancel that whilst on the floor, so my family didn't freak out too much. I'm on the floor for about 30 seconds and the 4 hour pacers fly by, one of them runs over to me, pours powdered magnesium down my throat and picks me up.
I spend the next few minutes running down the 4 hour paces, overtaking as they cheer me forward. The few kilometres were a blur, but managed to get back on pace finishing with a time of 03:58:36. Mission success.
After all is said and done, the waterworks never came at the finish line, the emotional outburst of knowing what I'd achieved never materialized. I think I was just too exhausted to even formulate thoughts.
I've already booked my next one, I'm so pleased, and I'm just so thankful to that friendly Serbian 4 hour pacer who saved me, you're an absolute hero.