Berlin Marathon 2015: A Lesson in Believing

MANILA, Philippines –  What is a marathon? A marathon is a run that goes for 42.195 kilometers. All one has to do is keep putting one foot in front of the other, with arms swaying, for two to six hours. How boring is that? Plus it’s tiring. So, why run it?

October last year I decided to sign up for the Berlin marathon for two reasons. First, I was disappointed with my first marathon last year in Tokyo and I wanted to achieve a finish of sub-five hours. Berlin was practical because it has the flattest course and temperate weather. It’s considered the fastest marathon in the world.

Second, I didn’t think I would get in. I believe it’s even harder to get into this one than Tokyo, so I left it up to chance. In November, the results came in. The email said, “You made it!” Hmmm... Great!  

Great? It’s always exciting to win the lottery, but then came the reality…a feeling of dread came over me. Back to training. Back to early weekend mornings and many long runs. Back to stiff muscles and tired legs. I haven’t been running since Tokyo in February, I’m out of shape, will I be able to get back? 

My New Year’s resolution was to start my training early. I started running again in December; short distances. I wanted to have a good base by March, six months before the run in September so that the long runs wouldn’t feel so difficult. That was the plan.

But how often does a plan get followed and how often does it stay on schedule? 

I expected this year to be a challenge, but despite how challenging and confusing life can get, I always had my sports that I had 100 percent control over... or so I thought.

One day in March, I played badminton with a friend. I remember being so angry that day which made me feel so gigil and I played hard. I didn’t play with strategy or touch, I just hit hard and ran hard. On my last game, I jumped sideways for a shot, landed on the side of my foot and rolled my ankle before falling to the ground. It was a very graceful fall, but before I landed, I heard “crack crack” and felt nothing but pain. I’ve sprained ankles before, but I’ve always been able to get up and walk away. This time, I couldn’t, I just lay there and fought back tears as the trainers brought a chair to elevate and ice my foot. 

I eventually managed to hop on one foot to dinner, drive myself home and hopped my way up the stairs to my room. At one point I lost balance and put my injured foot down. The pain was unbearable and that’s when I realized this was serious. I held back the urge to scream and managed to quietly get to my room. I closed the door, fell to the floor, lay there and cried my eyes out.

I managed to shower and get myself to bed, but I could barely sleep. My ankle was swollen, painful and heavy. All I could think of was how to get out of the house the next day without anyone noticing. The next day came and I was stuck in my room. I couldn’t put my foot down or walk. I was so frustrated and angry thinking why it happened, why it had to happen and, at some level, I thought probably deserved it. But what bad timing it was. I was to be a bridesmaid in the coming week and I had a trip to Iceland the week after. That first day, I was the ultimate negatron and I had no choice but to rest.

The second day, the stubborn girl I am refused to be stuck in my room. I will not be immobilised! By late afternoon, I managed to take steps while holding on to the banister. I was ecstatic! I was out of the house by dinner time and got myself to a party taking slow, small steps. I got funny looks and at one point someone offered to get me a wheelchair, which was touching and also cracked me up. But I was out and I hoped it wasn’t as bad as I thought.

I got myself to PT so that I could heal faster and walk down the aisle in my bridesmaid dress and enjoy Iceland. I got clearance from the doctor and I was on my way. About three weeks after the injury and back from my trip, my ankle was still somewhat painful and swollen, so during Easter weekend, I decided to get an x-ray. The result came out...fracture. FRACTURE!!! I was angry and jogged my first 3 kms since the whole fiasco happened. Then I emailed my doctor to tell him the result and that I was able to run on it. He wasn’t at all concerned. He said it didn’t look like a new fracture and I could still do whatever I want as long as I could handle the pain. I liked that answer. I normally hate doctors, but I’m liking this one so far.

My main physical goal this year was the marathon and boy, did I have one rocky steep road ahead. I started running again from scratch. The 3-km runs were a challenge and also very slow. This was summer time and I always have a hard time with the heat; building up was a challenge. I joined the Nike run for May which gave me only a month to build up to 10 km. I didn’t feel strong enough and had to walk parts of the run.

When I run, I try to find a pace that I can keep steady; not one where I run/walk.  It didn’t matter to me if my pace was slow, as long as I was steady. The Nike run was hard on me mentally and physically.  Prior to this year I could run 10 km in whatever shape I was in, without walking.

I’m a natural pessimist, a negatron, and thinking positive thoughts is a constant conscious effort. This year when I ran, it was hard to be positive. My past positive thoughts vs my present thoughts were opposites. “I’m already halfway” vs “I’m only half way”…“one last stretch to go, almost there” vs “this stretch is so damn long”…“this pace is just right, I can sustain it, just keep breathing and stay steady” vs “I’m too slow, I’m too slow, I’m never going to make it”… and on and on.

In early July, there was one week where my ankle was hurting more than usual so I decided to get another x-ray. Bad news. It showed a bigger and darker space which meant the fracture got bigger and the little bone that was previously there in between the break was gone. That’s why it wasn’t feeling better. 

I changed doctors. The good news is, he cleared me to run the marathon, though I heard some doubt in his voice that I could finish. The bad news is – surgery afterwards.

Three months to the marathon and I’m back at square one, cramming the training. I had the Milo half marathon at the end of July. I went into it without any expectations and tried to have a clear, positive mind. I was so relieved when I finished it! It was a minor triumph and was the point where I saw some light. Finishing the marathon is still far down the road, but a little closer to a reality.

I applied the same attitude with the runs that followed. I started each run without expectations. I was able to reach 25 kms a few weeks after. It felt endless and torturous, but I survived. The key word here is survived. Each run I survived because there wasn’t much juice left after and my pace was still slow. I was really worried that I wouldn’t finish within the cut-off time of 6:15.  The next hill was three weeks before the marathon, the longest training run, 32 km. I wasn’t looking forward to that run. 

The day of the 32-km run, I got to run with a friend, which was awesome. Having a running buddy is always nice, makes the runs easier. This run didn’t go well though. It was a total let down because I wasn’t able to finish it and I woke up at 3 or 4 a.m. for it. On the last round I almost passed out, threw up on the street and just walked my way back. I made it to only 28 km. At this point, doubt crept in. My pace has been between 7-9 min/km, which is slow. Will I be able to finish within the cut off time?

As the marathon date got closer, the more anxious I became, but there was another bump on the road. I was unsure if I’d even be able to fly out. Someone dear to my heart was unwell and I didn’t want to leave and I wasn’t able to fly out for my trip. I missed my tour of Central Europe and I moved my ticket to Tuesday, the last possible date before the marathon, hoping I’d still be able to go. 

I ran one more half marathon while waiting and on Monday, the day before my departure date, that special person got clearance to go back home! Talk about timing and luck.

Throughout the months, I kept going because I wanted to run the marathon. I wanted to have the chance to try it and not finish, rather than not try it at all. I had all the excuses to cop out, but I refused to. 

As I flew out, I was very anxious. The tour part of my trip was gone, so essentially, I was just going for the marathon. I didn’t want to not finish.

Sept. 27, marathon day. The weather had been chilly, so I decided not to wear my cute outfit and wear long sleeves instead. I walked to the start over an hour early.

It was a chilly morning and I waited in my fleece jacket and a plastic jacket. I tried to stay relaxed and warm. After the start guns were fired for the two blocks ahead of us, we slowly walked towards the start line. We had a couple minutes to wait at the start and as I stood there, something came over me and tears filled my eyes. It finally hit me: I was there and it was real.

The gun was fired and off we went. From the start, everyone kept passing me. Everyone was running so fast that I wanted to keep up. My watch was showing a faster pace than usual, which I didn’t mind. Just past the 5-km mark, my watch lost GPS signal. I had no idea what my pace was and I needed to wait for each kilometer mark to manually calculate it in my head. My only concern was not to go below 8 min/km so I can cross the finish line.

Eventually, the 4:15 and 4:30 pacers passed me, but the first half went pretty well. The faster pace got me to the half mark at the fastest time so far this year. I knew I had to be careful though – if I went too fast, I’d tire myself out too quickly. I did get tired and my pace slowed down a little each kilometer. The fatigue started to set in the ankle, the feet, the legs, then in the mind.

Getting from 21 km to 30 km was the toughest part. I had to stay positive. But I found energy everywhere, from the runners around me, from the spectators, and myself. I’d tell myself that whatever pain I felt was not real. I’d see other runners older than me going strong. I’d hear runners motivating each other, “We’re not here to quit.” Some random stranger would yell, “Go Joyce!” There were bands throughout the course. The energy was amazing. 

I just kept going and felt somewhat “comfortable” at around the 25-km mark. With 12-15 km left in the race, it suddenly hit me. Sub-five hours, my initial goal, was a possibility!

At first I thought I did the math wrong or I read my watch incorrectly, but I calculated, re-calculated, then re-calculated again. 

I had a chance at my goal and I had to go for it. It’s what kept me running and kept me pushing no matter how tired my feet were or how tight my legs were getting. I had a chance at my goal and I had to go for it.

I skipped and ran through the last three water breaks and the massage area that really tempted me. I crossed the finish line at 5:01. At the finish, there were no signs of waddling and I was still smiling. Coming in to the race that day and just hoping to finish, but instead finishing one minute shy of my initial goal, I couldn’t believe it. I will definitely take that time and be damn proud of it! It was the first run this year that I never gave up; aside from the water breaks, I never walked. It was also the first run ever where I never thought, “Why am I doing this?” That day, I was strong and I was steady physically and mentally. I’d say it’s my strongest run yet.

I am not built like a runner nor am I built to be an athlete. A doctor once told me my body is not meant to finish a marathon. That may be true, but finishing a marathon is not just about how you’re built physically. It’s not just about whether or not you can keep putting one foot in front of the other for 42.195 km. It’s a test of will and heart.

Some things come naturally and easily, but it’s the tough journeys that change us and make us stronger. It’s journeys like these that make the end rewarding and stay with us during our lifetime.  

In this journey I learned to trust, have faith and believe – in myself, in others and in the Universe. Things will never be perfect, will never go according to plan, but in the end, anything is possible.