Our third buggy marathon together and our best time by over six minutes! 3 hours 17 minutes and 20 seconds to be precise, which gave us 5th overall female and first in my age category.
I was terribly nervous in the build-up to this race. I barely slept the night before, knowing the clocks were going forward an hour in the night and worrying my alarm wouldn’t go off. So instead I woke at a quarter past three (which, of course, felt like a quarter past two!) and lay there fretting until it was finally time to get up at 5:25am.
I only woke DD at the last minute, helped her dress and popped her in the car with her breakfast. Then we had a very dark 45 minute drive up to Montauban, arriving in pouring rain. It continued to rain while we collected our race number and I built the buggy, but then thankfully started to ease off a bit and there were a few dry patches before the start. I wasn’t sure whether to start with the raincover or not, but in the end opted to leave it on (a good decision as it rained on-and-off throughout and I didn’t need to worry about DD being uncomfortable).
Having been most anxious about the drive, finding parking and getting the stroller set up, my nerves dissipated before the start and I felt relaxed and happy and, above all, GRATEFUL for being able to race a marathon with my little buddy in tow and in such friendly surroundings.
The gun went off at 8:30am and we quickly settled into a rhythm of 4:25-4:30/km. I had planned to run with a friend, but in the end we only managed about 7km together before I found myself slipping behind. This was mostly due to the difficulties of taking the “racing line” with the buggy. I always have to go the long way round, finding the lowest piece of curb, or the smoothest bit of road, which unfortunately adds to the distance.
The marathon was two almost identical laps, the first of which seemed to fly by. I kept making myself sip my sports drink (handy to have a bottle on the buggy!) and chew my energy sweets and succeeded in keeping my strength up. The toughest part was a horrible loopity-loo around some rugby fields – rough and muddy underfoot – but otherwise the course lived up to its description as fairly flat and mostly tarmac… until the halfway point that is. We had to traverse the park (that housed the marathon village) on about 1000m of deep gravel! That would have been hard enough for anyone to run in, but with the buggy it was torture.
The second lap started well, I picked up some speed after the gravel nightmare and I was still maintaining a 4:30/km average until about 28km (two thirds of the way). At this point we turned onto a long highway that dragged slightly uphill for about 2km and were met with stroller running’s worst enemy: a headwind. It wasn’t the worst wind I’ve ever run in, but at that stage of the race it was enough to sap me quickly of my energy. The buggy with my little one in now weighs about 31kg (68lbs) and this was where I really felt it.
So I began to slow down. Looking back, I am cross with myself as I feel I sort of “gave up” mentally, rather than trying to push on. I think I was rather afraid of the 14km still remaining and not wanting to suffer horrendously during the later stages (as I have done in many previous marathons!). Cowardly of me.
In any event, we kept moving forwards, albeit at an average pace creeping nearer to 5:00/km and, most importantly, I continued to enjoy myself. We kept passing other runners (and actually moved from 54th overall at the 5km checkpoint to 48th at the finish) and I felt strong.
My husband and older two children (who had come from Toulouse by train) were there at the 41km point to cheer us on as arranged and it gave me such a huge boost to see them. My son sprinted alongside us for a while too, which was awesome.
And suddenly we were coming in to the finish! The 200m back in the deep gravel felt like a cruel joke (surely this is something the organisers can improve for next year?) but crossing the finish line with DD was incredibly special. Not the 3hr10 our early pacing would have earned us, but a strong run nonetheless and, as I always say, finishing any marathon is a big achievement.
Writing this the day after, I have to confess feeling a mixture of pride and disappointment. I am proud of running a 3hr17 marathon pushing a five-year-old (and VERY proud of my daughter for her incredible patience, tenacity and good humour) and pleased with my finisher’s medal and category prize. However, my legs feel remarkably good (I can even walk downstairs no problem!) and I’m wondering whether I shouldn’t have just pushed that little bit more. Even 3hr12 would have got us second place. And why didn’t I try harder to stick with my friend, as we had discussed?
On the other hand, I’m glad I enjoyed every kilometer and I’m glad I felt perfectly fine at the end and afterwards. I wasn’t sick and got my appetite back in time for a slap-up restaurant lunch! Plus, I am grateful we had such a smooth race – no mechanical issues, no pee-pee stops and a happy daughter.
It’s just that now I’m left wanting more…
