Run a Marathon Ridiculously Slowly

Letting go of outcomes

This is my second essay from Write of Passage, an incredible writing community and cohort course that has you digging into the depths of your soul to write the stories only you can tell.

---

What if you were blocked, not by your physical abilities or your busy schedule, but by the mental barriers around your deepest aspirations? 

The thought of running a marathon never occupied a single neuron in my brain. When I was a kid I hated running. I don’t even run to the fridge. My only running stint? A 10K race over a decade ago, which was a gruelling challenge that took me 10 weeks of training. 

But all that changed when I interviewed ultramarathoners for a book. Among them was Ryan, a surfer who moved from South Africa to Wales. Frustrated without waves to ride in his new home, he impulsively signed up for an ultramarathon despite having no running experience. 

'Meet me at the coffee shop on Sunday. Bring your running shoes,’ a local ultramarathoner told him when he reached out for advice. They ended up running 13 kilometres!

Astonished, I exclaimed, “You signed up for an ultramarathon without running a full, or even a half marathon first? You ran 13 kilometres your first time running? How is that possible?”

He let me in on a little secret. Let go of the outcome and run slow, like really slow, ridiculously slow. 

Curious, I headed out to the stunning Vancouver seawall to see how long I’d last running ridiculously slowly. It was surprisingly pleasant. My feet rhythmically plodded along as the sun cast orange then purple hues on the calm bay. When I got home I looked at my fitness tracker and discovered I ran for two hours! Coincidentally, it ended up being 13 kilometres. Blown away and elated, I paused in the moment. Never had I believed letting go of the outcome and running slowly could unlock such enjoyment in running. 

Two weeks later, I decided to sign up for the BMO Vancouver Marathon (26.2 mi / 42 km). My family and friends, gaping incredulously, gently suggested, ‘perhaps a half marathon first, or at least a 10K?’ I shrugged, ‘I’ll be running those distances in my marathon training,’ and continued on with my wildly ambitious plan. Without a time goal, I didn’t see why it mattered. 

The race course was a stunning, scenic route through tree lined neighbourhoods, Pacific Spirit Regional Park, along the coast, and around Stanley Park. After 18 weeks training amidst Vancouver’s rainy winter, experimenting with the number of gels, which pre-run meal had just the right amount of calories, balancing my electrolytes, and honing my warm-up routine with dynamic stretches and running drills, I was off to a comfortable start. 

Aside from tummy troubles at seventeen kilometres and running an extra half a kilometre to get a medic for a fallen runner, things were going smoothly. I felt tired but strong heading into Stanley Park for the final 10 kilometres. But then, with 8 kilometres to go, things took a turn. My left foot started nagging at me, my hamstrings started to tighten. Memories of a recent shoe change and not getting in a full 30K before the race flashed in my mind as the discomfort mounted. 

Having seen three runners collapse from dehydration, my inner voice started chanting, “light and loose, light and loose,” with each agonizing step. Continuing felt hopeless. In my warped sense of time and space, the finish line seemed to be moving further and further away. 

Then, digging deep for any particle of energy left in my body, I remembered to let go of the outcome. As I transitioned from thinking about finishing to taking in the scenery, Taylor Swift's chorus switched on in my mind, "I shake it off, I shake it off, oh oooo ooo," spurring me across the finish line.

It took me five and a half hours. World record holder, Kelvin Kiptum, ran his record breaking marathon in just seconds over 2 hours. Meaning he could run two and a half marathons in the time it took me to run one! 

But it doesn’t matter. 

I finished. 

In the end, the marathon wasn’t about the distance, the time, or even the physical pursuit. It was an unexpected journey of shattering mental barriers I once had around running. By letting go of outcomes, slowing down and savouring every step, every breath, I experienced the whispers of victories not shouted across finish lines but in every stride taken against past mental hurdles. 

How many times in life have you let striving for outcomes deprive you of joy and fulfilment? What outcomes are holding you back? What outcomes can you let go of? 

The marathon of life, in all its exhilarating hills and crushing valleys is worth running, especially if you dare to do it ridiculously slowly.