Pushing the Limits
I turned 42 this year. Initially, my plan was to run a marathon this year — you know: 42 at 42, but I jumped the gun and went for it a year earlier. I decided to run it in Munich, where I had been ten years before, that time for a half-marathon. Ever since, Munich remained in my heart — the city, the people, the atmosphere, everything made me feel excellent — and I promised myself that if I were to run a full, I’ll go back to Munich to do it.
I started my training two years in advance, with the plan of reaching half in the first season, and the full marathon in the second season. The reason I did it like that was because I’m not naturally born to run distances and I have a hard time keeping my heart rate under control. My target for the first season was to complete the half-marathon in 1h and 45 min, which I did almost like a Swiss watch: to be more accurate, my time was 1:44:10.
So, there I was last year, with the half completed on target, feeling confident that I can run a full. My new declared target was to run 42 km in under 4 hours…but in the back of my mind, 3h and 45min was always the real target. Also, besides that time target, I was aware that I had another difficult challenge, to bring my HR down even more during that season, because it’s one thing to run 21 km with an average HR of 160, like I did, but totally different thing to run 42 km with that kind of stress on your heart.
I started the program in May, and the first weeks passed like lightning; I didn’t even realize it, and I was in my 5th or 6th week already. My progress was excellent, my HR was dropping, my training distance was increasing, I was getting faster… it was like a dream. My confidence level was at the ceiling.
And that feeling had stuck with me until I reached the half milestone in my training program. It was week 10, and my stats were way ahead. In other words, I was at 50% program, but my stats were almost 80% of what I needed to run the race in the conditions I needed. I was feeling like a little Superman.
From that moment on, something had changed though. My training sessions started feeling very hard, like I was running with weights tied to my ankles. The strength sessions were followed by a lot of muscles soreness. During my stretching and mobility sessions I wasn’t able to ease my muscles. The recovery took much longer than before. The confidence I had felt before was quickly being replaced with doubt. I thought I needed to increase the volume of supplements (vitamins & minerals) to keep the same progress rhythm. My brain was used to getting the same results, my expectation was high in terms of progress, so I thought I’ll just add more supplements to be able to keep up.
But no matter how many more supplements I had taken, or how much I had been determined to continue improving my stats, they just wouldn’t improve. I had a five or six-weeks period that followed, through which I had gone with minimal improvement. I was feeling miserable. I had serious doubts that I’ll be able to complete the distance, not to mention my time target.
It was sometime during week 17, when I had to accept the thought that I might fail in reaching my goal. Time was no longer a target; all I wanted at that point was to be able to complete the distance. So, during that week, I decided to run a half-marathon for my long run session that weekend, to see how I would feel. And depending on the result, I’d take a decision: abandon or go ahead. That was probably the most important moment in my program, because it was a pivotal point: I completed the distance feeling quite well, not too exhausted, my time was good, my HR as well; the signs were there that I can continue. Being able to complete 21k still having energy in my tank, had given me the confidence that I might be able to run the full distance.
The week after, my brain started crunching again… if at that point I felt confident that I could run the distance, maybe I should take another shot at the time target as well… who knows? I found out there was a test that some runners considered to be a good time predictor for completing the marathon race: the Yasso 800s. I decided I would do it in my 18th week of training. I completed it, and it was also good. My time prediction was spot on: 3h:45min. I was on top of things again, I had regained confidence that I could reach my goal!
The race weekend was getting closer and closer. I flew to Munich to a friend of mine who hosted me for the weekend, since we both were running at that event. I had prepared everything the best I knew how. I had healthy meals, fuelling properly with carbs, I prepared my energy bars and gels for the race and I tried my best to do everything according to plan. The one thing that I couldn’t control was the weather, which had a different plan than mine for that weekend. One day before the race it was quite obvious that we’ll get rain, even if not for the entire time window of the race. I had to make peace with that thought. Even though I hated it with all my guts.
In the morning of the race, I woke up and headed to Olympia Park with great confidence and determination. So, there I was, at 9 o’clock in the morning, waiting at the start line to fire the gun, trying to do one of the most difficult physical challenges of my life. The atmosphere was great, lots of people cheering, I was feeling good and confident. The gun fired and we started!
The weather was stable, around 13 degrees Celsius, the atmosphere was great, lots of people cheering and playing music along the route, just like I remembered from ten years before. I was feeling excellent, my body was working properly and I was chasing the 3h:45min pacemakers. Things were going well.
That was until I reached the 10k milestone, and rain started. At first there were just a few drops, but soon after, it got much worse. Rain volume increased, the wind started blowing and it was getting colder and colder by the minute. No matter how much I could have anticipated the situation, not in my worst nightmares could I have thought things would get that worse. In the next 5 km, I started feeling so irritated that I could barely focus on my running any more. All I could think of was how the hell I am so unlucky to get that kind of weather. My HR was increasing like hell. I was already over 170. And I wasn’t even near half the distance. I knew it from my training sessions that once my HR elevated, I had minimal chances of bringing it back to normal again. It was a complete nightmare; I struggled so badly to breathe and keep myself calm. The thought of quitting hit me at least a million times.
On the other hand, I thought that if I’m there anyway, even though the weather conditions, and with a fair amount of distance already completed, it would be foolish for me to stop then. I had been in tough situations before and that was just another one: much worse, but not much different. So, I tried to convince myself to go on. And if I had told myself a million times to quit, I just have to tell myself a million and one times to continue. Those were the longest hours of my life. Never had I been in such torment and pain. Physically and mentally. I thought I was going to break, literally.
But somehow, I managed to keep going. With each and every kilometer, rain and wind were getting stronger, I was feeling colder, my fingers felt frozen, I couldn’t open my gels anymore, and even after I managed to, swallowing them was the worst feeling in the world. My stomach didn’t want to accept that substance anymore. And on top of everything, because of the weather, people had left the streets and there were moments when I was running all alone on the streets of Munich. Man, it was like of those bad movies, where all the characters die at the end…
I reached the hydration point at kilometer 35 and realized that I’d managed to keep my pace at a fairly good level. Because at that hydration point, I met again one of the pacemakers that I had been following and lost for a short period of time. Just when I had stopped, he left the station. I took a small cup of water, just to moisture my lips, because my stomach would not intake anything anymore. And I tried to start running again. But my legs were frozen. I tried again…and again. But my legs just wouldn’t move. I saw the pacemaker disappearing in the distance. I thought to myself that I’m so close to finishing and reaching my goal. I gathered the last drop of energy I still had in me, screamed one time from the top of my lungs and managed to get my legs moving again. One step at a time. Once I got back to my pace, I promised myself that no matter what happened, I’m not stopping again until I cross the finish line.
And to my surprise, the closer I was getting to the finish line, the better my body started working again. I managed to get my brain to work to my advantage again. 2 or 3 km past that hydration point, I was feeling a bit better, keeping my pace, breathing good, and my legs felt a bit lighter. I knew at that point that I was going to make it.
I finished in 3h and 47 minutes, just short of my target. But happier than ever. Because I managed to overcome every obstacle on the path. I felt deeply pleased, went to get my rain poncho and a big cup of beer. The best cup of beer of my life.
Looking back, I realize how much mental the challenge had been. A day after the marathon, my body was recovering, I didn’t feel extreme muscle soreness and that was the sign that I had trained my body properly. It was just my brain that had been playing charades during the race: to quit, or else I was going to die.
A marathon is not just about distance and time — it’s about the journey of self-discovery, resilience and achievement. Every step taken, from the first easy run to the final sprint, has shaped me into a more determined and disciplined person. I’ve pushed myself through doubts, discomfort, and exhaustion — proving to myself that I’m stronger than I once believed.
