Written by Bronwyn Preece
Yes, you are reading this correctly. I ran my second marathon, and the experience couldn’t have been any more different when compared to my first. And, that’s not necessarily in a good way. Or is it?
I was heading back to Manchester, where last year it all fell to pieces before I even made the start line. This time, however, it felt different. Initially a good different. I was… excited! I was aware that I could have trained harder and more consistently for this one but my impulsive thought of “just wing it” won over, like it does in most circumstances.
I headed up to Manchester with Dad (Roland the Rat Runner for all you Crofties), on Saturday 26th April. He would also be taking part and was in the same situation as me. Signed up for last year, didn’t do it and owed it to himself to complete the 26.2 mile distance in 2025. Again, like me, he was also going for the “just wing it” mantra. Something that I now realise isn’t the best method when preparing for a marathon. Our choice of dinner that night; McDonalds, probably also isn’t the ideal meal before a challenge like this. Our pre-marathon preparation was looking pretty dire, come this point. However, after a decent night’s sleep, a long and relaxing morning shower, some food (the Premier Inn brekkie wasn’t the best) and a good luck message from my #1 supporter – Eric, I was ready to take on Manchester!
On the start line on Sunday I felt pretty emotional. It was finally my time to shine. Manchester was no longer going to be the “Marathon I Didn’t Start.” I was aiming for a sub-4 hour, something I believe, and still believe, that I am capable of. The 4 hour pacers were heading the front of my wave; they were the targets I found myself eyeing up very early on. I was raring to go but completely oblivious as to what lay ahead. Hmm, maybe oblivious isn’t the right word, more like “underestimated” what lay ahead.
The start felt great. I kept a nice steady pace, just behind the pacers, while people raced past me left, right and centre. I was going nice and comfortably, even taking my turn to pass the 4 hour pacers a few miles in. It was all so far, so good; maybe too so far, so good at this point in the game. But, I kept going, enjoying the experience while pacing myself alongside another group of like-minded runners, with the crowds screaming and shouting my name and words of encouragement as I passed by.
Things started to go downhill from around Mile 10-13 where I hit the dreaded wall. The wall at Mile 10, I couldn’t believe it. I was feeling hot and bothered by this point, my pace was slowing and I was starting to question whether I could complete this. To make things worse, just after half way, the 4 hour pacers came tootling past me like they were on a Sunday stroll, alongside them, my hopes and dreams of a sub-4 ran off into the distance. I was frustrated. 10 miles, even 13 miles, is a distance I’ve comfortably ran hundreds of times before. Forget the physical side, this is where I figured just how much of a mental game long distance running is.
At one point, Mile 14, maybe(?), I got desperate. I needed help before I called it quits. So, I rang my mum who very bluntly told me to “get the f**k on with it.” She would also update me on Eric’s finishing time at London Marathon (incredible time, by the way, if you didn’t know, I’m very proud of him) and it seemed to be that extra motivation that I desperately needed. I had accepted that this wasn’t going to be the marathon time of my dreams and instead made the decision to put all my focus and strength on making it to the finish.
After that, it became easier, mentally. Time was no longer an issue and the pressure I was putting on myself evaporated into the hot and humid air. However, physically, it got harder. Of course it would. I was hot and found myself walking, a lot. Although it didn’t stop me overtaking Lord Voldemort. I’m being serious. At Mile 16, I managed to roll my ankle. Luckily, no lasting damage, just a little toe that hurt for a bit. I soldiered on before the smell of garlic hit me at Mile 18. Now usually I love garlic, but not on that day. It was straight to the nearest hedge. And then, there was the final 10k. I tried my hardest not to look at my watch, but every time I did, my mileage had barely moved. It was like time had grounded to a halt. Apart from this, I was feeling surprisingly ok. A lot better than some of my fellow runners who were passing out and cramping up. Honestly, at one stage there were bodies everywhere. Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Regardless, the end was soon in sight, and had an all new location for 2025; smack bang in Manchester City Centre. I remember turning onto the finish straight and thinking how far away the finish looked. Do I sprint it, or do I just get there without any issue? Of course, I chose the former and gave it as much energy as I could. It definitely wasn’t my fastest sprint, far from it, but it felt good. However, crossing that finish line felt even better. My torture was over. I am aware that if you saw me on the livestream, I had absolutely zero emotion crossing that line. I even gave the camera a death stare, although in reality, I was just debating about waving to it or not! Sadly, I was not proud of my achievement when crossing that line. I finished in 04:17:34. Nearly 20 minutes behind my target. I felt disappointed because I know I can do better. I was relieved, however, that I could now say that I finished Manchester Marathon and was NEVER going to do that distance ever again.
As the post-marathon hours passed by, I realised just how well I did. I not only finished my second marathon, but I finished a marathon in ridiculously hot weather, while battling many mental and physical demons along the way. I finished in the top 11,000 people out of the nearly 36,000 who took part. For me, that’s pretty impressive. Old me would have simply “lost it.”
I am very lucky to have the support of loved ones and Croft Ambrey Running Club, all of whom seem to believe in me much more than I seem to believe in myself. And, I’m working on that, I promise. But I am truly grateful for all the support I constantly get. As for my Dad, he crossed that finish line too, even with his dodgy knee that has been plaguing him in recent months. He did an awesome job and I’m thankful that I got to experience Manchester with him.
You’ll be pleased to know, I doubt this will be my last marathon, no matter what I say. Sub-4, I’m coming for ya.
