In life when we want something we have to be prepared to work for it. To push our limits and do the unthinkable in order to achieve the unimaginable.
For me that unthinkable is evening speed training. When the temperature is still torrid. When the air quality is abysmal. And when the streets are crowded.
Add to all of that the fact that speed training takes place 5 kilometres away from me. Uphill. So that to even get the chance to sprint, I must first run. I have no car. And the thought of commuting by public transit at the apex of rush hour is daunting. Even more daunting than having to run 5 kilometres uphill to begin an hour of sprinting amid a pack of Boston Qualifiers.
My legs by this point are far from fresh. But I have nothing to lose. Even if I was fully rested I would still be the slowest among the pack. And for me to achieve the unimaginable I must embrace hard running when my legs feel like they have nothing left to give.
The marathon isn’t about competing when your legs are rested; rather it is about what you can pull out of your fatigued body and mind at the 32 kilometre mark, at the 38 kilometre mark, when the finish line is still so achingly far away.
The members of my group effortlessly pass me. As do the members of yet another group who start their laps seconds after us. There is no room for ego when you rank at the very bottom of the pecking order.
I am here to learn.
My weaknesses are made abundantly clear.
I will get stronger.