Travel Blog

I just ran my first marathon in three and a half years. Not only was I undertrained, but I was uncertain I would finish.

Then again, I never know if I will finish in time, and that’s what makes the marathon so alluring and challenging. I know I can finish a half marathon in the allotted time. I can even walk it if I have to. Not so with a marathon. Unlike a half marathon, a full marathon often has ambitious cutoff times. If you don’t finish in the designated time, you get pulled from the course.

Furthermore, so much can go wrong in the leadup to race day and on race day itself.

Sure enough, only three weeks before the Queenstown Marathon in New Zealand, I ran ten miles on the demanding hills around Lake Stanley Draper and came down with Achilles tendonitis—an injury not to take lightly. While you can run through some injuries, such as an inflamed ITB, running with an Achilles injury can ground you for months if you push it.

As If that wasn’t enough, one week later, I struck a cow on a dark, remote highway, destroying my car. Other than some minor soreness, I fortunately walked away uninjured. The cow was not so lucky.

Some people might have taken those incidents as signs to quit. Not me.

I was even more determined to run my race. I had registered for the half marathon as a precaution, knowing I could complete it in the allocated time.

For the next two weeks, I didn’t run and did only low-impact cardio. I knew running would only make my injuries worse, and I needed to give them the maximum time to heal before the race. I learned long ago you don’t give up just because you can’t follow a traditional training program. You find an alternative. For my final training, I did a three-hour workout on the elliptical at the gym in lieu of my “long run.” My personal trainer Preston also ensured I maintained my strength and conditioning.

By November 18, the day before the race, my Achilles felt better—enough to make me switch to the full marathon.

It was still a gamble, though. The Queenstown Marathon had four cutoff points. I had run marathons with one cutoff point, but not four! If I didn’t clock in at all of them, I wouldn’t be allowed to finish. My race could end much sooner than I planned if I didn’t maintain a certain pace.

Nonetheless, I would rather try and fail than wonder if I could have finished. With only hours until start time and a maximum training distance of 13.1 miles under my belt, I changed my registration to the full marathon.

The day of the marathon, a bus drove us 26.2 miles from Queenstown to the starting line. We would have to run the full distance back to town to the finish line. With two hours to spare, my new friends and I warmed up, stretched, and tried to stay hydrated without going to the Porta Potty constantly. Despite my anxiety, I couldn’t help but feel inspired by the stunning scenery. The overcast, drizzly weather accentuated the lush greenery and rolling hills, and the crisp air invigorated me.

Once the race began, I cruised with the excited pack of runners. While my Achilles still felt tender, it wasn’t as sore as it had been. I could make this work!

Only two miles into the race, to my alarm, my Achilles seized. “Oh no, this isn’t happening,” I muttered. Unlike an inflamed ITB, it isn’t wise to run with Achilles tendinitis, especially with twenty-four miles to go, but I wasn’t conceding so easily.

Running my first marathon in three and a half years, I remembered the key to finishing. It’s not just about enduring utter fatigue, but withstanding the physical pain and stress. I told myself if the pain became unbearable, I could drop out, but as long as I could tolerate it, I would keep going.

The hills were brutal as well. So much for the course’s description of “flat out beautiful!” One hill I encountered was so steep, I cried, “What the f%ck!” I knew running up the steep inclines would exacerbate my injury, so I speedwalked them. Of course, the downgrades were challenging in a different way. A couple of times, I felt like my legs would roll out from under me from the momentum. I was grateful most of the course was dirt or packed gravel, as it alleviated the impact on my knees.

Six miles in, I was starving with no food in sight. I regretted my last-minute decision not to carry a snack. The few calories from the electrolyte drinks would have to suffice.

At each aid station, I stopped to drink water and stretch my Achilles. “Hang in there,” I told it.

When I hit Mile 16, my legs cramped, and a sharp pain shot through my right leg, something I hadn’t experienced during a marathon before. I was over halfway finished, and I wasn’t going to quit – not yet. “You can take the pain,” I told myself.

Obviously, the electrolytes in the sports drinks weren’t enough. I needed something more concentrated to ease the cramping. Luckily, I had packed my salt tablets and swallowed one of them with no water.

At last, I arrived at an aid station with food! I stopped and scarfed two protein bars. Within fifteen minutes, my legs felt some relief, and my stomach wasn’t angry anymore.

I reached Mile 20 in agony. Not only was my Achilles throbbing, but my inner thighs burned from my shorts chafing against them. Although I had put Body Glide on before the race, the rain and the sweat must have washed it off.

Regardless, I had come too far to surrender. I checked my watch, and I was still on pace to finish on time. I had made the third cutoff with a couple of hours to spare! I could walk the rest of the way and still finish on time, but I was here to run.

At this point, I was fighting the burning pain more than I was exhaustion. I forced myself on with pure grit.

Once I approached town, I had to pee badly, but there were no Porta Potties in sight. I kept waiting for one to come into view, but it never did. Finally, I had no choice. I ran behind the tree and took care of business. Hey, guys do it all the time.

With only one mile to go, Jacqui and Marcie, our trip organizers, and the crowd cheered me on. I could push it the rest of the way in. It was almost over! Right before the finish line, however, I came upon one last sharp hill. Really? Now? Shit! Still, I gave it everything I had.

At last, I glimpsed the finish line! As soon as I crossed the threshold, I threw my arms in the air. I did it! Marathon #11! Continent #4!

This one was for all the setbacks of the last three years – the pandemic, my bike wreck, the knee and calf injuries, the Achilles injury, my three surgeries, my car wreck, and most of all, the cow! I made sure the cow did not die in vain.

Each time a run a marathon, I am not sure I have another one in me. And I always prove to myself that I do.

It didn’t matter that I could barely walk back to my hotel, and that my Achilles still hurts almost one month later. Some things are worth it!