Establishing My Pace

On Monday, I aimed to find a comfortable pace that would allow me to sustain a long run. I understood that stopping would only lead to fatigue, so I needed to keep moving. My first run of the week was a modest 3.1 miles at a 12-minute mile pace, which felt surprisingly manageable. This little victory boosted my confidence.

Looking back, I wish I had attempted at least 10 miles that day to gauge my endurance for longer distances. But, as they say, hindsight is 20/20. Those 3.1 miles were enough to motivate me to push forward.

On Tuesday and Thursday (Wednesday was a rest day), I completed two runs of 4.1 miles at an 11:15 pace, which elevated my determination to new heights. I could only think about crossing the finish line after that grueling 100th mile. While I knew it would be a challenge, I envisioned the satisfaction of completing the race.

The Calm Before the Storm

The night before the big run, I felt it was essential to carb-load—thanks to science—so I indulged in a couple of slices of pizza to pack in some extra calories. As I was at work, my colleagues teased me for my craziness, and I began to feel a wave of pre-race anxiety. It reminded me of the races at Van Cortland Park, where I stood at the metaphorical starting line, waiting for the moment to begin.

Race Day

Even though I was competing against myself, those nerves lingered throughout the day. In a strangely refreshing way, it reminded me of my amateur cross-country days. At 11:59 AM, I positioned myself at the starting line, and by noon, I was off and running. The first hour flew by, my playlist (Logic’s No Pressure) pumping me up, and I focused solely on the path ahead.

However, by the second hour, I found myself listening to the same album on repeat, and my confidence began to wane. When I reached mile 15, I had to dig deep within myself to keep moving forward. "Just 80 more miles to go," I reminded myself at the 20th mile. My legs were on fire, and the baby powder I applied was no longer effective against the chafing.

“Just keep going, just keep going,” I whispered, pushing through the pain. By mile 22, I entered a trance-like state, a zen experience fueled by physical agony and the aftereffects of that pizza. I finally stopped at mile 24, over four hours later.

Lessons Learned

One of the key lessons I took away from this experience was to avoid making bets with friends; they hold you accountable (in this case, $115 worth of sushi!). Yet, despite the pain radiating from my feet with every step, I felt an overwhelming eagerness to run again. I began contemplating a new training regimen and lifestyle for my upcoming half marathon and, hopefully, a full marathon.

Running has taken on a new meaning for me, transforming into something enjoyable. My initial delusions about my abilities pushed me further than I ever imagined. As the saying goes, “Shoot for the moon; even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.”

While I wouldn’t advise anyone to take on such a challenge lightly, I believe that a little bit of delusion can be beneficial. If you need a boost of self-confidence to embark on something daunting, embracing a bit of overconfidence might not be such a bad idea, as you never know how far you can go otherwise.

Thanks for reading,

Ethan W

If you have any comments or questions, please feel free to share them below; I’d love to hear your thoughts!