Hi y'all,
The adventure has taken a turn to the darkside and yesterday, as I ran my first 30km race ever, I have met every deamon there is to meet. I went straight to the pits of hell and back and I have never ever felt all of what I felt before. At the same time you find yourself surrounded by people that, for just that time and place, are true angels. They drag you out of your dark thoughts and help you move forward, they are the ones believing in you when you have lost all faith, they literally help you push through when you thought you had nothing left to give. Running. It's horrible and beautiful at the same time. If you ever really want to know what you are made of, if you ever want to truely grasp the way your own body works, if you ever want to know what it really means to not give up... I suggest you take time, you take all your time and you train for that full marathon. It changes you in more ways then you could ever know.
So what happened yesterday? The love of my life went with me and the race took place in Amsterdam Noord. Before we had to take our places in one of the two corals that shaped the field for the 30km race we met up with another Dutch ALS fundraiser Tonny Kiburg. He will run the 100km ultra run for ALS next weekend. Now I said there two corals and that is correct. The entire field of participants for this event was 437 contenders, all of them trained, super skinny , a few I familiar social media faces and all of them fast, How does that make me feel? It's intimidating and I feel like l don't belong there and like I should just go home right away. And then there is this little tiny detail of it being my first 30km ever and me being scared shitless as is. The love of my life, bless his heart, walked me over to the coral and soon the gun fired off and we where on our way.
What you have to know about the course of this race is that it takes you straight to the very typical Dutch polders and villages. I for one can't understand why the contenders field is just about completely Dutch. The course is awesome. At half way point my cousin and her husband where volunteering as traffic handlers and as I raised my hand she snapped a few pictures. Up to the 20km point I was doing really good. I aimed to log a 3:30 on this race and crossed the 20km marker at 2:18. That felt good. One of the runners came up next to me and we started chatting. As I felt him speed up I tried to pick up the pace and that was something I shouldn't have done. Somewhere between km 24 and 26 it all went buggers. I had to pee badly and when I did stop to do so (I am not very shy in this regard because in the polder there are nu bushes so you have to squad along side the road) I couldn't. The nagging feeling lingered and my blatter was giving me all sorts of mixed signals. Not much later my bowels joined in.
Simultaneously my legs grew tired and that is when things got really dark. I got sidecramps and around km 26 I had to walk because the cramps wouldn't go away. Nothing is more devastating then having to walk when you're in your final 4km because it makes everything so hard. The selfdoubt kicks in and you are ready to give up. Somehow from the depths of my soul one thought took overhand and it made me run/ walk another kilometer and after that 500 meters and after that another 500. That thought was Sander. I thought of him waiting for me at the finish line with a towel and loads of hugs. I thought of him and literally from somewhere under my toes I found the strength to pick it up and wobble those last meters over to the tracks where the finish line would be. I turned a corner and there he was. Sander. My super amazing husband man. His face lit up as he saw me and I cried something like 'Am i there yet?' but I had to run another 100m. Sander told me RUN. You can do this and I kept going. My cousin had biked over to the finish line and she stood there waiting for me, snapping pictures. I crossed the line and cried. Oh my god did I cry. I believe the first thing I said was that it was awful. And then Sander was there. I slumped into his arms and cried. Just so happy I had done it. Not proud. Just so happy it was over.
Coming home my bowels clearly had something to tell me and I ended up running to and from the bathroom a lot. Felt like I had contracted a stomach flue or ate bad fish. This whole 30km adventure has taught me a few things:
1. I have to add another 12km in just 6 weeks time. That is a lot and it scares the living crap out of me.
2. Even when I think I can't take another step, even then I can find a place to pull energy from and wobble on. Even when everything hurts and all you want to do is stop. Even at that point I now know I can go on.
3. The reaction of my body to this distance scares me. I can run the miles, that I know but....well ....my bowels and blatter act up and that is something I'm not sure I can manage. That scares me. A lot. Those toilet breaks really slow you down and it gets harder and harder to pick the pace up again. Am I the only runner having this issue?
Am I proud yet? I don't know. I did it and that is something completely different. But it hurt. It was awful.Meeting my deep inner critic nearly gutted me. Being able to overcome all of it and go on was a surprise. Meeting the angels of the day lifted my spirit (thank you screaming bearded man right around the tracks who told me you had nothing but the utmost respect for me. Thank you!) Feeling the arms of the love of my life made me feel safe and secure. I'm glad I made it. I know now that running that full marathon will be one of the thoughest things I have ever done. I am not sure I can make it but I am not giving up now. I am scared but I will not let fear get the best of me.
That's it for now. Until we read again.
As always, love Marlies
The adventure has taken a turn to the darkside and yesterday, as I ran my first 30km race ever, I have met every deamon there is to meet. I went straight to the pits of hell and back and I have never ever felt all of what I felt before. At the same time you find yourself surrounded by people that, for just that time and place, are true angels. They drag you out of your dark thoughts and help you move forward, they are the ones believing in you when you have lost all faith, they literally help you push through when you thought you had nothing left to give. Running. It's horrible and beautiful at the same time. If you ever really want to know what you are made of, if you ever want to truely grasp the way your own body works, if you ever want to know what it really means to not give up... I suggest you take time, you take all your time and you train for that full marathon. It changes you in more ways then you could ever know.
So what happened yesterday? The love of my life went with me and the race took place in Amsterdam Noord. Before we had to take our places in one of the two corals that shaped the field for the 30km race we met up with another Dutch ALS fundraiser Tonny Kiburg. He will run the 100km ultra run for ALS next weekend. Now I said there two corals and that is correct. The entire field of participants for this event was 437 contenders, all of them trained, super skinny , a few I familiar social media faces and all of them fast, How does that make me feel? It's intimidating and I feel like l don't belong there and like I should just go home right away. And then there is this little tiny detail of it being my first 30km ever and me being scared shitless as is. The love of my life, bless his heart, walked me over to the coral and soon the gun fired off and we where on our way.
What you have to know about the course of this race is that it takes you straight to the very typical Dutch polders and villages. I for one can't understand why the contenders field is just about completely Dutch. The course is awesome. At half way point my cousin and her husband where volunteering as traffic handlers and as I raised my hand she snapped a few pictures. Up to the 20km point I was doing really good. I aimed to log a 3:30 on this race and crossed the 20km marker at 2:18. That felt good. One of the runners came up next to me and we started chatting. As I felt him speed up I tried to pick up the pace and that was something I shouldn't have done. Somewhere between km 24 and 26 it all went buggers. I had to pee badly and when I did stop to do so (I am not very shy in this regard because in the polder there are nu bushes so you have to squad along side the road) I couldn't. The nagging feeling lingered and my blatter was giving me all sorts of mixed signals. Not much later my bowels joined in.
Simultaneously my legs grew tired and that is when things got really dark. I got sidecramps and around km 26 I had to walk because the cramps wouldn't go away. Nothing is more devastating then having to walk when you're in your final 4km because it makes everything so hard. The selfdoubt kicks in and you are ready to give up. Somehow from the depths of my soul one thought took overhand and it made me run/ walk another kilometer and after that 500 meters and after that another 500. That thought was Sander. I thought of him waiting for me at the finish line with a towel and loads of hugs. I thought of him and literally from somewhere under my toes I found the strength to pick it up and wobble those last meters over to the tracks where the finish line would be. I turned a corner and there he was. Sander. My super amazing husband man. His face lit up as he saw me and I cried something like 'Am i there yet?' but I had to run another 100m. Sander told me RUN. You can do this and I kept going. My cousin had biked over to the finish line and she stood there waiting for me, snapping pictures. I crossed the line and cried. Oh my god did I cry. I believe the first thing I said was that it was awful. And then Sander was there. I slumped into his arms and cried. Just so happy I had done it. Not proud. Just so happy it was over.
Coming home my bowels clearly had something to tell me and I ended up running to and from the bathroom a lot. Felt like I had contracted a stomach flue or ate bad fish. This whole 30km adventure has taught me a few things:
1. I have to add another 12km in just 6 weeks time. That is a lot and it scares the living crap out of me.
2. Even when I think I can't take another step, even then I can find a place to pull energy from and wobble on. Even when everything hurts and all you want to do is stop. Even at that point I now know I can go on.
3. The reaction of my body to this distance scares me. I can run the miles, that I know but....well ....my bowels and blatter act up and that is something I'm not sure I can manage. That scares me. A lot. Those toilet breaks really slow you down and it gets harder and harder to pick the pace up again. Am I the only runner having this issue?
Am I proud yet? I don't know. I did it and that is something completely different. But it hurt. It was awful.Meeting my deep inner critic nearly gutted me. Being able to overcome all of it and go on was a surprise. Meeting the angels of the day lifted my spirit (thank you screaming bearded man right around the tracks who told me you had nothing but the utmost respect for me. Thank you!) Feeling the arms of the love of my life made me feel safe and secure. I'm glad I made it. I know now that running that full marathon will be one of the thoughest things I have ever done. I am not sure I can make it but I am not giving up now. I am scared but I will not let fear get the best of me.
That's it for now. Until we read again.
As always, love Marlies
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