I did it and I paid dearly for it, I’m still paying for it.
I wasn’t anywhere close to beating my last year’s time; it was rather silly of me to think that I could.
This was the longest 2hrs 20mins 39secs of my life! The first 10kms was bearable, I made good time and I even got a little cocky… I imagined I’d call up friends and inform them I was right in a middle of a half marathon.
It got hellish during the next 11kms, I got tired and started lagging – I didn’t push too hard because I knew my breathing would suffer and then I wouldn’t be able to run at all. Instead, I dragged myself and tried to breathe steadily and think happy thoughts.
The inclines almost killed me, I almost stopped at one pointÂ – the only reason I kept going was because I didn’t want to fail. I didn’t even realize this until after I’d finished.
I was in the crowd watching the finishers – a woman was visibly upset, crying and struggling to get to the finish line, almost as if she was being forced. This very excruciating scene led me to ask, “Why doesn’t she just stop?”
“Because she doesn’t want to be known as the quitter” was what someone said.
That was it!
It was the fear of being labeled a quitter that goaded me into finishing the race.
I finished, I could barely stand afterwards and everything hurts now.