Before Sub-4
24 hours out
That’s it. There are no more miles to run. No more early mornings, no more long runs, no more endless pasta bowls, no more foam rollers, no more track sessions. Nothing. For nearly 8 months, my life revolved around training. I lived in a perpetual state of either running, preparing to run, or recovering from running. All in preparation for this singular day, where all the long hours and miles converge. No pressure.
I wasn’t always a Strava subscriber. My running journey started 1.5 years ago, in the summer of 2020. Back then, the farthest distance I had ever run continuously was 4 miles, and that was a half-decade prior. So why did I pick it up again?
In the midst of the first months of COVID, the world was closed and for students, we were forced to learn a new form of virtual school. This left me and many others alone, in their rooms, glued to a desk chair with a monitor for a best friend. On top of this new environment, my father had been hospitalized for a non-COVID illness, placed on a ventilator, inches away from death, causing me to drop everything to go support him and my family. The combination of loneliness and trying to be strong for my family took so much out of me, I needed an outlook where I could re-establish myself. An outlook that set aside time for me to collect my thoughts and escape from reality and the stressors in my life. A sort of self-therapy session.
Running was this outlook.
It wasn’t long after that that I signed up for my first half-marathon, with the mindset that I might as well pursue a goal during my therapy sessions. This came and passed, so I set the bar higher and went out for my first ever marathon in February 2021 in Atlanta. The therapy sessions remained, but their goal no longer was to get me from day to day, but rather a way to build resilience against future challenges. This resilience only grew stronger as the challenges beamed harder. This is where the sub-4 hour marathon goal was born. A byproduct of therapy.
I wish I had an excuse for failing in Atlanta. I still remember the feeling of being halfway through, 10 minutes ahead of goal pace, floating on clouds with my legs each biplanes soaring towards the finish. I remember the feeling of my hamstring cramping up at mile 18, causing me, along with my hopes of completing my goal, to collapse to the ground, knowing that even if I got up, the chances of me regaining my stride was slim to none. I’ve lived with this failure for 8 months, reminded that all the preparation in the world cannot prepare you for the unknown. I finished Atlanta in 4 hours, 48 minutes.
The memory of this failure has lived in my mind for the last 8 months, but with it comes the strength to want to overcome it, the need to overcome it. Not one week after Atlanta, I signed up for the Detroit marathon, with the goal of coming back strong and faster and mentally resilient, to finally cross the finish line in under 4 hours.
I’ve felt the weight of this goal every day. More than once, particularly in recent weeks, I’ve imagined crossing the finish line. How it would feel, what it would look like, what it would smell like, what it would mean to me and all those who have supported me on this journey. My biggest fear isn’t failing, I fail at things all the time. My biggest fear is giving something 110% of me for months and months knowing my heart that there wasn’t a single thing more I could have done better to improve the outcome…and still failing. Now that’s hard.
It’s an unknown whether I will achieve sub-4 this time around, anything is possible and preparation only goes so far, as I’ve learned. But all my t’s have been crossed and i’s dotted in terms of training, nutrition, gear, and most importantly support systems. I’ve had endless support from friends and family, and various training partners who pushed me to literally go the extra mile. I feel a responsibility to deliver for myself, but also for those who helped me reach this point. Although I stand alone at the start line, I represent a village whom I draw strength from.
What will I do after the race? If I don’t achieve the goal, I will go again, and again, and again until I deliver. The process of getting better far outweighs the actual goal. It’s the journey, not the destination, after all. If I do achieve the goal, we move on to the next, representing a consistent desire to strive for the highest.
I want to thank everyone who has ever trained with me, encouraged me to keep going, and pushed me to be the best version of myself. On Sunday, you will be in my thoughts throughout the race, giving me the strength to take that next step, wherever that leads me.
