Running a marathon dream

“I ran a marathon last night,” I told the lovely Snapdragon on Tuesday morning when we had our morning coffee.

“How did you do?” she asked uninterested, her attention focused on her phone.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I was at the 37km mark when my alarm went off.

“I did well until then, but my legs were starting to cramp up.”

“You probably didn’t train enough,” Snapdragon said.

“As a matter of fact, I think I did. A lot of the other runners in my dream remembered me from the races during my preparation,” I told her coldly.

For the next two nights, I tried to continue my marathon dream, but to no avail. I’m still wondering if I managed to complete my first marathon, even if it was only in a dream.

I’ve woken up a mere five kilometres short of the finishing line. Five kilometres… I’ve been retired from road races for more than eight years, which means it is unlikely that I will ever do a marathon in real life.

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I can’t say that it bothers me. Not much, anyway. But I have been mulling over those five kilometres for days now. How would they have ended?

In the morning, when I drove to work, I suddenly remembered what my old school’s coach told me. “Running,” he said, “is a metaphor for life. Some people will always be faster than you, others will be slower. And how their race progresses, will have no influence on your performance.

“You are really only facing one opponent – yourself.”

I realise that I don’t know how my last five kilometres will end. But it will be the result of my own preparation and no other person can influence it.

I can only look back on the kilos behind me and as with the completed 37km in my dream, they were great. My body isn’t that of a teenager any more, but I’m happy with what I have and I’m looking forward to the final stretch.

I’m not close enough to see the stadium or hear the roar of the crowd. I’ve completed the difficult, stiff first part and my muscles are loose and warm, despite the odd cramp.

The rest of my race is in my own hands and I will run it as I see fit. And when I put my tracksuit on after crossing the line, I will be able to echo Sinatra’s words: I did it my way…