It’s a Marathon, not a Sprint.
As someone who is more naturally prone towards (fast) action, I may have heard this advice once or twice over the course of my career. But I’ve never really “gotten” it — why would you not do something as fast as you can?
This weekend, though, I ran my first half-marathon (!!) and realized for the first time the truth of the saying.
I hadn’t really been training — I mean, I had been running a good bit, and even logged a pretty solid long run the weekend prior, but signing up itself was a last minute decision when one of my best friends told me she was running, and I said, “why not?”
But truth be told, I was anxious. I’d NEVER run 13.1 miles before, and even my longer run the weekend prior had a pitstop at Swamp Rabbit for an egg and cheese sandwich (I know…).
I hate failing at anything, and the thought that I might have to stop // walk // DNF was incredibly daunting. Not that there’s anything wrong with any of those things, but I just didn’t want that to be my story for that day.
All my experienced runner friends told me: do not push it. Be smart. Pace yourself. Run the first three miles with humility; run the last three with courage.
So I (begrudgingly) took their advice. I started slow, at a pace that felt glacial.
But shockingly, the advice worked. I was able to pick up my pace and more importantly, sustain running for the whole two-ish hours. Yes, I was mildly shocked!
Here was the other thing I learned on the (long) run.
It would not have been possible without the non-runners who made the race happen. The volunteers who patiently handed out Gatorade in small paper cups, and those who must have been there to clean up the mess of cups afterwards.
What makes this happen is the friends who tell you to put yourself on the waitlist,
to go slow,
who babysit your kids at ungodly hours,
and the ones who give you energy gels and salt tablets (still haven’t tried those, Gracen, so sorry!).
In other words, a race is so much like life.
Slow is hard. Pacing yourself is hard. Being patient, especially in our American culture, is hard.
We want the end results now. Bigger, faster, better. Pacing yourself when you know you can go faster is hard.
Going slow at the beginning requires a humility that you may not be as fast as you think you are. It requires acknowledging there are a lot of people who are a lot faster than you are, and that’s okay. That you’re running the race for the entirety and not just the first 5 miles.
And really, it’s ultimately about the other people who make it happen.
My friend, marathoner, and colleague Gracen texted me at about mile 8 when I started to hurt (I may have been complaining). She said, “just put one foot in front of another.” And again, that’s just like life.
Do the next right thing. Surround yourself with the people who push you in the right direction. Always forward, never backwards.
