Right. This might drag on a bit but I’ll have a go at relaying some of my feelings about running a marathon for the first time at 37. It’s ok if you don’t care but I’d like to share. 
Ever since I was a teenager I’ve had it in my mind that running one was something I wanted to do. Previous attempts at running even short distances produced various levels of results but ultimately never got me beyond 10k. In fact in November 2018 I ran 10k for just the third time ever, but I’d spent about three months building myself up to that point with much more intent than any previous running I did. So I’ve pretty much trained and built myself up to this point for the guts of 15 months. On my 30th birthday I was 19.5st and something like this seemed million miles away.
I’ve been following a marathon specific training plan for about 16 weeks. Ran a few races along the way including three half marathons the third of which I treated as nothing more than a training run, no chasing PBs. Ive felt in extremely good shape for the last six weeks or so and even a weeks holiday to Portugal where the eating plan went wildly astray didn’t really derail anything (running 10k in the Portuguese early morning heat just makes you stronger apparently). I got myself to the starting line yesterday feeling more than capable of achieving the sub 4 hour time.
So the race itself, I didn’t think I was feeling nervous but I think I am kidding myself there. I was suddenly feeling a twinge in my thigh and one in my shoulder. Nervous energy I think. But then we were at the starting line and all that was gone. My brother was doing it for the first time too but I’d said all along we were doing our own thing and at the start I plugged the earphones in cos I wanted to stay focused. We got separated pretty quickly but we kept finding each other again up until about the 30k mark and including running past the spot where our dad had stationed himself together.
I didn’t take a whole lot in on the day itself but you couldn’t help but experience the atmosphere. The streets were lined almost from start to finish with people offering sweets, refreshments, encouragement and, in one instance, Vaseline. 
Like I say I didn’t really take it in, I had a focus and I wasn’t turning away from it. The kilometers ticked away for me and I was keeping my intended pace past the half way point, past the 30k, right up until about kilometer 34 where I started to slip a little. At that stage though I knew I could average 6min/km and I’d still be under the 4 benchmark. At 36k I was running further than I had ever done before and in my head at that point I was thinking “just another 6k, not a problem”.
At mile 22 we faced what’s known as heartbreak hill. I got up it without any hassle. It was short and sharp but I had plenty in the tank. The course is relatively downhill after that and I possibly could have gone for it a bit more but I decided against it. I knew it was in me to reach my target and I didn’t want to chance blowing up right before the end. The last few km home were extremely enjoyable. I took out the earphones and soaked it in. Strangers shouting my name (it was on my race number) and the level of encouragement was something to behold. I knew I’d done it so I allowed myself to drink it in.
And it gets the better of you. Crossing that line, something I’d thought about doing, on and off, for about twenty years…it was bloody emotional. I felt on the verge of tears for a few minutes afterwards. And then I come on here and this thread is on the go and I allowed myself a few tears. My original plan had been to just pop into the health and fitness thread and post a Strava screen grab so hopefully yis don’t mind this indulgent drivel instead. 
Yesterday was a truly special day for me and I’ll never forget it. No decisions on next year but if I do sign up I’ll take in the day much more than I did yesterday.
