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February 2008. Around 25k into the Malta Marathon I am reduced to a hobble by sharp pains in my left calf muscle and within a few metres I decide to quit, having realized that carrying on was both foolhardy and pointless. On that occasion, I reached the finish line prematurely. Only a few days later, while on an early morning, relaxed training run, the same calf muscle snapped, thus putting the finish line to the next race an ultra-distance ahead.
October 02, 2010. I stand towards the end of an eager gathering of running legs, waiting for the starting gun to release the adrenaline that is swamping the starting area of the St Vincent De Paul 5k race. Not having any particular aspirations other than finishing the event, I am not drowning in nerves as I normally would had I been aiming to push myself to the limit. Rather, I am floating on this aura of pleasant expectation at the thought of completing my first competitive event in over 30 months....and on the road, to boot. I say this because in the three weeks that I've stridden into a sort of regular running routine, I have hardly ever touched tarmac.
For 22 minutes my legs flow with the outgoing current on the opening downhill and subsequent flat section. Then, when the hills hit, I feel a strength which successfully fights off their sucking pull. On reaching the finishing straight I feel like I'm sliding up a slipway, at the end of which I emerge from this tide of athletes fully satisfied with the experience.
The line is finally crossed.
SVDP 5k 2010
