By Rumon Carter
April 28, 2007 -- Sunday April 22, 2007 is going to go down in my personal history as one of those "character-building" days; one during which the rate of learning was high, the rate of speed - not so much. Those of you who have been following my Heart of the Matter column will know that the 2007 Flora London Marathon was to be a milestone for me. I was using the race as my first 'A' race of the season, a first goal to hone in on. More than that though, it represented the first time since heart surgery, in January 2006, that I had trained seriously for an athletic event (the adjective "seriously" is a little loaded). Yes, I raced a half-Ironman last year, as well as a handful of other bike, running and adventure races, but each of those was done without any goals or expectations. I trained organically and according to my own desires on the day. There was no program, no sacrifice and certainly no suffering on the track. All that changed this spring in preparation for the marathon. As so, there was a lot more on the starting line than simply my racing flats.
By setting a goal like the marathon, and doing so publicly, I knew I was sticking my neck out and reaching for an objective that might be a little beyond my reach. I hadn’t raced a straight road marathon since 1999, but I had numerous reasons for doing so now. Key among those reasons was the desire to set an early season goal that would both focus the trajectory of my winter training, as well as bring me to a level of fitness that would allow me to train for Ironman again.
How did it go?
Did I achieve my goals?
Yes and no.
Did I run the time I was shooting for…two hours 45 minutes?
Not by a long shot. But I did achieve other unforeseen goals by trudging across that finish line on London’s historic Mall. For a veteran racer, such as myself, it was yet another experience to remind me that there are always things to be learned in this game we play, chasing finish lines, pushing our limits. Though I was the only student in my particular 26.2-mile classroom on April 22, the lessons are not mine alone.
The first lesson is one of realism and expectation management. Each of us has a unique set of abilities and limiters that determines what we can feasibly accomplish in a given race or season. Though I advocate taking the long view when working with athletes, I suffer from a bad case of “I want it all and I want it now.” Maybe I bit off more than I could chew by setting the 2:45 goal, but I maintain that it was realistic. What I failed to recognize was the significant difference in my personal and professional life since I last trained seriously. This included later nights, extra stress and missed workouts due to other commitments. When setting goals, we need to be cognizant of these life factors, recognizing where our priorities lie (for me, family and work come before sport) and adapting our plans and objectives accordingly.
The second lesson has to do with the unpredictability of endurance events. Though the number of variables doesn’t necessarily increase as we move from the 10k to the marathon (or from an Olympic-distance triathlon to Ironman), the statistical reality is that as time and distance increase, so too does the opportunity for something going wrong. For example, who would have predicted that London could reach 80 degrees in April? Perhaps I would have had I spent more time watching the weather on the internet. In doing so, I might have changed my training plans, opting for warmer mid-day runs whenever possible. I also would have addressed extra electrolyte loss by adapting to the race’s provided hydration beverage (I would have needed to order it from Britain).
But the day, and the many days that led up to it, were far from a total washout even though I was reduced to walking the streets of London with my tail between my legs. And that was my final lesson; one that should be intuitively apparent but one I imagine many of us loose sight of: Racing isn’t always about the time goals. In fact, racing can be profoundly more rewarding if we attach additional significance separate from what the clock says when we cross the finish line.
When I crossed the finish line in London, I did so after having seconds earlier shared a handshake with my friend and training partner, Michael. As the numbers go, he had an even worse day than I (he was after a 2:35). However, each of us realized that in some sense, this – walking across the line, sharing a laugh at our own expense – was the perfect dénouement to a months long story of trial by miles. In addition, we crossed the line satisfied in the knowledge that through our training and a race that didn’t go exactly to plan, we had raised awareness and money for a charity – one which will help facilitate opportunities for disadvantaged youth to share in the joy of the sport.
And so, as I crossed that finish line a good half-hour after I had intended, I was reminded that sport isn’t simply about the digits on the clock. Sport on its own is an incredibly meaningful pursuit, but there are innumerable ways – charity, coaching, volunteering – by which we can give extra meaning to those days spent out on the road.
And there was one more lesson: Regardless how fast or slow I was going out there on the streets of London, that’s where I was meant to be. There’s nothing like the sound of the gun going off, humanity moving forward in a common goal. There’s nothing like the feeling of being in that space between start and finish. It’s a place I’ve been away from for a few years now, and a place in which I spent more time than planned during this year’s race. It’s also a place I hope I never again have to leave.
I’ll see you out there.
Rumon Carter, 31, is a multisport athlete, coach and sports and health advocate. Once a member of the Canadian National Age-Group Triathlon Team, Carter's triathlon aspirations were derailed when he developed a heart condition following a 9:27 debut Ironman in 2001. Following heart surgery in early 2006, he has been reporting dispatches from the road back to fitness in his column, The Heart of the Matter.