Prague International Marathon 2023

~~dedicated to the memory of Nick~~

The 27th edition of Prague International Marathon was officially flagged off at 9:00 am on a cool gloomy 7 May 2023 at Wenceslas Square, Mùstek. The ‘Moldou’ by Bedrïch Smetana filled the atmosphere amidst the cheering crowd; One could not but resonate with the solemnity and pain that the arduous journey awaits. Yet the euphonious tune carried you on its wings with such tranquility. Igniting and invigorating the heart. This is the first time a tune has such an impact on me in a marathon event.

Backtrack to just 8 weeks ago. To contemplate participating in marathon races would have been just wishful thinking. The MCL and meniscus tear had been plaguing me for most of the past 3 years. Every attempt to restart training were forced to a halt for weeks/months on end. It was hopeless. I reached a point of utter resignation - perhaps this was the end of the road for marathon running. Yet only by the Mercy of God, as would the miraculous often begin with a baby step of faith, I took a plunge and answered a prompting to sign on for Prague Marathon. The rest, like they say, was history. Like clock work, the training took the form of gradual increase in weekly mileage from 60 to the peak of 120 km, mixed in with some LT and trial runs of 21 and 15km a couple of weeks prior the race. 8 weeks was all I had to work with, nevertheless the training went as well as I had hoped, except the odd niggles that forced a couple of days of rest just a week coming into race day. My highest in a single long run was 35km but even then I couldn’t be sure if the knee would suddenly decide to act up. So it was with some trepidation that I approached race day. The concerns were the overall lack of mileage for one, but the knees buckling would be disastrous to say the least.

If a picture could speak, the Hanging Man would fittingly enunciate this, but tragic nonetheless. Yet, I do have to remind myself lest I get carried away. “Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You.” Ps 56:3.

Prague Marathon starts and finishes at the same Wenceslas Square. The route consisted largely of segments of repeat loops to accommodate the 2Run half marathoners as well as relays. Inadvertently this meant more repeats of the dreaded cobblestones segments along the way. Coupled with uneven road and tram lines coursing through the route, it’s a major maneuver nightmare given my knees issue. I am not one to complain but running on cobblestones has to be considered a “marathon-hazard” - after all, this is a road race and not a trail run. Nevertheless, at gun off, I had to quickly put the matter aside. There was enough challenge ahead as in any big races - how to outmaneuver the crowd in order to achieve my desired pace. It took me a good 1km to get in the clear. Beyond that, I suddenly found myself running on the verge of reckless abandonment. That was not the plan. It was supposed to be a conservative 4:12 for the first half. Perhaps the adrenaline got to my head, or perhaps the race memories from 2019 were rekindled; and I was just swept away by the moments and ended up with 4:03-4:05. Whatever it was, the hidden issues of the heart was unveiled. Like a bow and arrow in an archer’s hand - stretched till its final moment - and released to fly! And I did feel as though I was flying - all the way to half way point…

Then I did an odd thing. Something I had never ever done. I stopped for the portaloo right after the half way point! Almost a subconscious diversion, I decided it was not very dignifying to pee as I ran. On hindsight, that was to be a costly decision. You have to be in my shoes. Runners aren’t always clear-headed; meticulous as we may be. I genuinely thought I was doing well. The energy, effort and breathing was spot on. I was beginning to believe that the second half would not be so bad after all. The disparity between perception vs reality can be deceptively sweet, but it eventually deserts and betrays you - leaving you high and dry in the end. Same goes for my GPS as well. It’s frustrating to be let down at this crucial moments. The overcast weather and the buildings must have affected the GPS signal. I crossed into 35km still feeling good with the timer showing 2:26-ish; that would leave a comfortable cushion for the final few km. So I thought.

Fuel wise, I had always used Maurten gels but unfortunately I wasn’t able to get hold of it from Dubai or even at the EXPO. Therefore I had to make do with GU instead. This perhaps was another rookie’s mistake. However there wasn’t anything I could do about it. The wall eventually came. It’s presence, like a tyrant, sucker punches you with such intensity that any attempt to redeem yourself would be futile. The harder you resist the more it drains you. Yet if you resign to your fate, it will further weaken you - pummel and reduce you to a worthless guilt ridden zombie. It’s a scary thing. Any marathoner who ever trains - trains well to avoid this precise moments.

It would seem the euphoria was over. The last 7km was a disappointment. To reach, almost grasping - yet seeing it slip from your hand. It’s every bit a battle of the mind as it was physical. The mental fatigue had more to do with it rather than just an issue of accumulated lactic acid. My heart rate never went beyond the threshold zone so I knew where I was at. If I were to finish this, it would have to be sheer stubbornness at this point. Stubbornness and stupor, mixed in a large dose of reckless abandonment. I didn’t come here to lose. Or to give up. No matter how it looked, the silver lining is that thought of crossing the line. I would have done more than what I could ever do in the past 3 years! My pace dwindled from 4:35 to 4:50, then 5:10 at some point. Stronger runners were passing me left right and center. I only have high regards for these who knew the game, trained well and had the patience, tenacity and discipline to tough it out till the end. This is what finishing strong is all about. It’s never how well you start. It is how you finish. If there is one lesson that would be seared into my memory, it’s this: I never ever want to finish like this again. Somehow these fellas’ drive rubbed off a bit on me. Gathering my final effort, I picked up the pace to 4:45-4:50 in the last couple of km and crossed the finish line in 3:01:12.

My Garmin recorded a moving time of 3:00:35. Which means I had squandered a 47sec on the trip to the portaloo. Even so, it still changes not the fact that I would not be doing a sub3 on this particular day. Pacing issues, fuel issues and throw in some ego and impatience issues, all in all, God knew I wasn’t ready to make it happen. You can’t have it when you ain’t ready. It is very fair. It is not just an arbitrary figure. It is a standard that requires a lot of thoughts, effort, strategies and tonnes of willful patience.

That is why I love this sport. It trains you on all levels, and you can’t just get away with it with some luck. It will reward you when you have done your homework. Keep pushing and don’t stop discovering what your limits are. This mussing is not just about the accounts for my blunder; but more so, may it serve as an encouragement for those who are striving towards a goal time. The training and methods are pretty standard but this sport is filled with so much nuances that I am still constantly discovering. And above all it is a discovery of oneself. So whatever the outcome, however remarkable or hellish the run turned out, no one will go away empty handed - unless we fail to be honest with ourselves.