My first marathon

Stu Pocknee

22 Dec 2023

health , running

TL;DR: My first marathon was Honolulu in December 2023. The Hawaiian running gods were smiling on me, and I did better than expected. It was special to share it with fellow TRR members Mark and Wendy, and to have family and friends along for the ride.

The build up

I won't cover the full journey that led to this marathon. Much of that background material can be found in previous posts.

It will suffice to start the story a week before race day. This is when my family touched down in Hawaii.

Having the kids along to see me succeed or fail was important. For the better part of a year they had borne witness to my training shenanigans. I wanted them to better understand the underlying purpose.

Seven days in-country allowed plenty of time to adjust to local time (and to have a holiday).

Daily 5km runs prior to breakfast hastened acclimatization, and kept the legs turning over.

Hawaii is a beautiful place. Despite this, I wasn't really fully engaged. I had come to run, and my thoughts never strayed far from the upcoming race. We swam, did touristy things, and generally had a good time. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't watching the clock most of time: waiting for the days to tick down.

You mind will play tricks on you leading up to the race. You'll think you've developed some problem. Ignore it, you'll be fine.
- Mark G

Being confined on a plane made me nervous. Catching covid a week before the marathon was the stuff of nightmares. One night (two days before the race) I woke with a sore throat. Panic gripped me - then I remembered Mark's advice. I nervously drifted back to sleep. In the morning I got up for the daily 5k. The throat was fine.

Race day

I was awake at 3:30am. Mentally running through a checklist of how I was feeling. All was good.

The previous night with Mark and Wendy hadn't been a late one. We knew we'd be rising early.

Rolling off my trekking mattress, I quickly deflated & stowed it.

The Airbnb my family had rented was 1:30hr away on Oahu's North Shore. Mark allowing me to stay the night with him in Waikiki saved a lot of faffing about.

There was plenty of nervous energy in the room as we prepared. We'd arranged to meet Wendy in the lobby at 4am.

Soon the three of us were on our way to the starting line. We weren't alone. We made the 1.5km walk in the company of an increasing throng of other race participants.

Our pre-race journey ground to a halt perhaps 200m from the actual start line. We could have pushed further, there wasn't any organized grouping by expected finish times. This seemed close enough.

0 - 10km

Fireworks and loud music accompanied the 5am starters gun.

Fuel & hydrate constantly.
- Lou B, Yolande W, Margaret B.

As our legs began to move I slipped three Cliff Blocks into my mouth. The fueling program was underway.

I am not sure how long the fireworks lasted, but they were still banging away long after we had crossed the start line. I spared a brief thought for Honolulu city residents now being rudely wakened by the cacophony.

Mark was quickly out ahead. I watched his red hat pull away over the first kilometer or so until I no longer could catch glimpses of it. Wendy was slightly behind me.

Beware the urge to run too fast initially. The excitement gives people energy, but you will soon pass those who go out at a speed beyond their long run capability.
- Mark G.

Most marathon performances are determined by how you run the first 10km.
- Jim K.

Mistakes in a marathon come back to haunt you two hours later.
- Craig M.

It didn't bother me that I had lost touch with Mark. He had indicated that he might try to start a bit faster to take advantage of the cool before the sun rose.

I was happy to run with the crowd, hobbled in speed by the surrounding mass of humanity. It was a way of ensuring I was not swept up in festive emotion and already running too fast. Even so, some zigging was required to keep a reasonable speed.

Within a kilometer or two I noticed Wendy had passed me. I adjusted to come alongside and we ran together for a while.

Take a water bottle. It allows you to skip some water stations, and lets you regulate your intake.
- Lou B, Yolande W.

The first water station looked like a confused shambles. A great crowd of people were converging for their first hydration opportunity. I was glad of my independent supply and cruised by on the far side of the road.

I felt good. As I chatted with Wendy I casually checked my heart rate. Hmmm. 175bpm. That's at least 35bpm above what I would expect. If that was real, either the thrill of the start was was having an impact or I had a problem. Experience told me that having a loose watch could sometimes cause my heart rate to read high. I cinched the band tighter, and focused on long deep breaths. Ten minutes later when I checked again it was down around 140bpm. Crisis averted.

The pre-dawn darkness played no negative role. Street and building lights were easily sufficient for running.

By about the 5km mark Wendy had drifted to my rear. I was not concerned. Wendy would go at her own pace, and I expected it to be a bit slower than mine. It would be a while before I would see her again.

At the 40 minute mark I downed a Maurten Gel. I would alternate Gels and Blocks each 40 minutes through to the end of the run.

Race plans

Have a plan, but on the day be prepared to react to the conditions
- Mark G.

My goals for the day were fairly simple. Firstly, I wanted to finish. Secondly, I wanted to enjoy the run.

Six months previously I had completed the Gold Coast Half Marathon in 1hr 48min. I was ambivalent about the experience. Things had gone well, until I hit the wall around the 14km mark.

The last 3rd of the run had been an exercise in holding on, willing the finish line to appear.

To me, that is not running. That is torture. In this run I wanted to enjoy every kilometer of the route. That meant conserving sufficient energy to be mentally present in each moment, and ending the race wanting more.

Accordingly, I had drawn up two race-day plans.

Plan A was to hold 6min/km pace throughout. This would get me home in 4hr 13min.

Plan B was to start at 6min/km pace, then to increase the pace every 8km (by 10 seconds/km), crossing the finish line in 3hr 58min.

My training told me Plan A was realistic. I'd be happy with both the run and the time.

Plan B was my "if I feel good, I'll go for it" plan. Four hours is a duration often used to differentiate an average run from a good run. It's completely arbitrary, and non-sensical without further context. But it exists. If conditions on the day were favorable, I'd try for sub 4.

Using a hotel pen, I had inked the following distance x time table onto my left inner forearm.

10 - 20km

I wasn't working hard. On the contrary, I was consciously holding back. Over the past year I had watched multiple colleagues go too hard early. Their charts revealed consistently fast lap times for 30+ kilometers followed by precipitous drops as they hit their respective walls.

Like a small child with careless parents, I had silently watched and absorbed the lessons. I didn't know if I could avoid the same fate, but I was going to try.

You've done the work. You'll be fine.
- Mark O'C.

Already my pace was quicker than planned. This bothered me. On the other hand, I felt good and was well under a pace that would rapidly drain energy. I was confident in the rigor of my training, and buoyed by the opinions of fellow club members. Universally, they seemed to have more confidence in my prospects than I did myself.

The 8km entry in my forearm table had almost been erased by sweat. Enough remained to know I was a couple of minutes ahead of the Plan B schedule.

You'll draw energy from the crowd and other participants.
- Mark G., Sara W.

Observing and interacting with others is a key part of my run enjoyment. I soaked in the music of the bands playing along the way. High fives and wide grins were exchanged with the various supporters/spectators. More involvement with surroundings equates to less focus on any negative internal messages.

Time was passing quickly.

As we ascended the road around Diamond Head I was beginning to pass people. This state of affairs would remain until the end.

Passing people is good. There are a couple of benefits.

1. Psychologically, you feel strong.
2. It allows you choose people to try to strike up a conversation with.

Probably 50% of those I passed had earphones. I avoided these people. If they wanted to be alone with their audio, I didn't want to disturb them.

I'd evaluate people as I pulled up to them. What were they wearing. How were they looking.

If they were working hard I might offer a word of encouragement.

"You've got this, guy!"

If they looked like they were doing it easy I'd try something a bit more conversational.

"Looking good fella. Everything going ok?"

Runners are upbeat people who react well to positive messages. Sometimes I'd get a grin and a thumbs up. Sometimes quite a bit more.

At Diamond Head I got chatting with a guy who'd just flown in from Kuwait. He'd done the race six times. Obviously I asked for some race tips. There was nothing particularly unexpected about his advice, but it wasn't the point. It was a chance to contribute to someone's experience, and share enthusiasm and energy.

I left him with some version of the sentiment I would use many times that day.

"Ok bro, have a good run and enjoy it. I'll see you when you pass me. 👍🏼"

Sometime shortly after that I pulled alongside Mark. If I was going to catch him at all I expected it to be closer to the finish. Nevertheless, it was good to see him. We'd done many training runs together and being alongside him was comfortable and familiar.

Much running wisdom had been gleaned from Mark (a natural mentor) over the past year. Having him alongside me in my first marathon seemed both fitting and providential. There is a performance enhancing calm you get when you are confident that things are going to plan. With Mark there I knew they would be.

We ran together for about 15km.

20 - 30km

Be appreciative and thankful for the opportunity to run.
- Jim K. Mark G.

Enjoy it.
- Everyone

By this time we had run through dawn and into full daylight. The leading runners had begun to pass us, returning in the opposite direction. Cheers and applause for the first few, male and female.

Now it was time to appreciate the scenery. Lush forested slopes backed the houses and buildings along the route.

I was constantly self-evaluating. Working my way through my body from top to bottom. Periodically doing some simple mental arithmetic to convince myself I was in full control. Everything checked out.

Frame of mind is everything. I suspect there is something special about a first marathon that will be hard to recapture in future events. Perhaps it sounds cheesy, but I had no problem acknowledging my good fortune as I forged on. Management and luck had resulted in an experience that many aspire to, but relatively few attain.

Speaking of management, there was still much to do. I dared not neglect keeping the engine fueled and radiator topped up. I hadn't known exactly how I would refill my bottle when required. Lou B had warned me that I might have to work a bit to get an attendant to help me. Twice during the race I found helpful cup-fillers who were happy to upend their jugs into my bottle. On several other occasions I made use of the "self-service" facilities - small banks of PVC piping that continuously flowed streams of water.

At one of the water stations I came out ahead of Mark. I expected him to soon be alongside again. After a few minutes, it appeared I was slowly drifting further ahead. I was unperturbed. I knew he would want me to run my own race. The stronger runner, he would catch me if and when he wanted to.

At the eastern end of the course we navigated a wide loop, eventually bringing us back to the outbound path, except now running west.

Scanning the oncoming runners for form and costumes provided another opportunity to distract the mind. I was watching for Wendy. I might miss her completely if she was already on the loop section.

Luckily, her distinctive TRR colors soon hove in to view. We exchanged a high five and hurried encouragement as we passed. She was looking happy and strong; I was buoyed to see my team-mate doing well.

30 - 42km

I had been watching my times and distances fairly closely over the first 24km. But their relevance was disappearing at a rate similar to the sweat-affected ink on my forearm.

I was well ahead of my predictions. There was not going to be a problem finishing, and in under 4 hours. Beyond 37km (my longest training run) I was going to be in uncharted territory, but my body was well prepared. Accordingly, I now focused solely on finishing well, with no time pressure.

My most interesting human story was gleaned sometime around the 32km mark. It transpired that the girl I came alongside of was from Sydney. Her father had run the event 21 times, and his ashes were interred by a tree at the finish line! She had picked up the baton in his memory, and was now on her 8th iteration. 🤯

The race starts at 35km. Everything before that is just a warm-up.
- Jim K.

There is no question that my race changed sometime around 34km. Everything began to get harder. The luxury of being able to conserve effort was gone.

This was not distressing. On the contrary, it was actually comforting for events to unfold as expected.

I became aware of pain in my toes. It was clear I was blistering on the outside digits. I had 150km on the Hoka Cliftons and hadn't experienced any problems prior to this run. Meh. This was minor; I pushed it out of mind.

Two months before, I had sought recommendations on shoes. Dennis R, Graham D, and Pete W discussed the merits of Hoka Clifton 9s and Saucony Speed 3s. I hadn't really wanted to hear about those. I wanted to be told I needed the flashier Nike Vaporfly shoes. Eman V (a sub 3 runner) was polled for his opinion.

What time are you aiming for. 4:10hr? Pffff. Don't waste your money, at that pace any old pair will do.
- Eman V.

Sigh. Nothing like a bit of blunt honesty to bring you back to reality 😄.

The sun was now a factor. Temperatures at 5am had hovered around 20°C. Now they were pushing towards 30°C. My face was incandescent with radiated heat. To combat this I sought shade from trees and walls along the way. Upending cups of water over myself at each water station helped.

I didn't witness many breakdowns over the last 5km. I've heard plenty of stories of seeing people "falling like flies". The runners I was passing all seemed in relatively good shape. There were a few pulled up along the way, but not many.

My last hurdle was the ascent at Diamond Head. I'm not a strong hill climber so I knew it would be a grind. But no big problem. I dropped a gear, shortened the stride, and kept going.

If Mark was going to catch me this would be the spot. I was a bit disappointed to reach the top without him. It was downhill to the finish line. It would be a big ask to catch me once gravity was working with me.

Craig, Kim, and the family were waiting to wave me home at about the 41km mark. The kids had made up some simple banners (fun! 😀).

I could manage a wave and a grin and not much more.

Looking at some of Eddie's video afterwards, my form was not as impressive as I imagined. Instead of an energized athlete powering home, I saw an exhausted old guy wearily and stiffly plodding on, possibly nursing various sore joints and muscles.

The truth bothers me not at all. I work with what I have, and I was perfectly satisfied with the performance I had wrung from it.

As the finishing arch came into view 500m to my front it finally occurred to me that I was ready to finish. Perfect timing. One final push and it was over.

Post race

It didn't take long for Mark to appear. There is a special joy in sharing a moment like this with a friend. Conditions had been kinder to me, but he'd run well, and was in good cheer.

Tasha was feeding me updates via SMS regarding Wendy as she passed through the final checkpoints. It was clear she was going to be a while yet, so we found some shade near the finish line to stretch, hydrate, and chat.

It was interesting to watch finishers stream over the finish line. Some looked like they had just completed a sedate 5km run. Others appeared close to collapse. I marveled at some of the gaudy costumes. One or two appeared more suited to arctic conditions, and I wondered how the wearers could have withstood the heat.

It transpired that Wendy had had the toughest race of the three of us. A plantar fascia injury around the 26km mark had put paid to any thoughts of a fast finish. Instead she had a slow and painful run home. True to form, she had not quit, and was in remarkably good spirits when she finally joined us.

Slowly we made our way out of the finishing area, through the t-shirt tent, and to the leafy park where my family was waiting.

My crew were rapidly tiring of standing around in the sun. We had a long drive back to the north end of the island. Accordingly, we did not dally long. Mark and Wendy headed for buses to take them back to their accommodations. This was a bit of a shame, I would have like to have spent longer with them going over the run, and enjoying the joint accomplishment. Still, we will have plenty of time to reminisce on club runs in the future 👏🏼.

After the race you'll be all emotional. You'll be thanking anyone and everyone!
- Mark G.

Perhaps because of Mark's prophesy, I was not particularly emotional post-race. It is natural to feel gratitude to all the people who have helped you along the way (and there are many). But my feelings were a bit different.

It was good to cross the line in Honolulu, but it didn't feel like I had just finished something. On the contrary, it was like I had just unlocked a new game level.

Rather than basking in the glow of the accomplishment, I was already beginning to feel a mix of trepidation and excitement for what might come next.

I wasn't yet sure what that might be.

It would be hard.

It would take a lot of work.

I was enlivened by the thought 🤷‍♂️💪.

🏃🏼🏃🏼‍♂️🏃🏼‍♀️