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| These are going nowhere |
I want you to imagine a film scene.
A black screen, with only the sound of a wind so sharp that it sounds like it could cut you in two.
Slowly, a dim light fades in and begins to reveal a gravestone. As our view continues to widen there is a loud, booming sound like a heavy book dropped from the balcony of a silent library and a large letter D is stamped on to the gravestone.
The camera continues to zoom out and pan right uncovering a second gravestone. Another boom and a letter N is stamped on this stone.
A third stone appears out of the gloom and the letter S is heralded by another loud crashing sound.
The camera stops. The wind howls and screams. We take in the morbid scene.
Slowly the first gravestone begins to topple forward taking an age to fall gently forward before it smashes into the ground shattering into thousands of pieces and lifting a cloud of dust. Then the second gravestone falls forwards and once again disturbs the ancient ground. It is followed a split second later by the third and final gravestone. The film switches to slow motion and we watch as the cloud of dust swirls around in the wind.
Fade to black.
To DNS or to DNF, that is the question.
Yes, I know I'm a drama queen but nearly every runner will, at some point, face the agonising decision of whether to start a race not knowing if they are going to finish, or to simply not start it. DNS v DNF. I faced such a decision a couple of weeks ago.
If you read my last blog, you'll know that I took quite a heavy tumble during my last race- the Ian Hodgson Mountain relay. I badly injured my shoulder and arm and the strength has been slowly returning ever since. Although that still isn't better, I can run with it fine and it doesn't slow me down, however, my right knee, which wasn't a problem at the time of the run, became a problem in the following days. When I ran again, the following Wednesday, I began to experience a sharp pain in my right knee after a couple of miles and, to cut a long story short, it's continued ever since.
The day before the York marathon I went out for a final run, having taken a few days off to see if my knee would be ok. One slow 5 mile run later, the obvious answer was no, it wouldn't.
I had gone backwards and forwards thinking about it, should I or shouldn't I? I really didn't want to miss the race as I was very lucky to get in- it sold out inside 72 hours- amazing for an inaugural event. The York marathon was supposed to be my first sub 3 hour marathon or at the least, my "Good for Age" qualifying time for an automatic place in to the London marathon. But would I get round? Would I end up finishing really slowly? Or not at all? Would I put myself out for weeks if I did it and miss a couple other races I signed up for? Was it worth the risk?
The run on Saturday confirmed that there was no way I would get all the way around 26.2 miles. The knee just wouldn't put up with it. A shorter race I might have been able to tough it out, 10 or 15 miles maybe, but a marathon is a step up. The wall can hit you like a ton of bricks at 18 miles. Reluctantly I took the decision to withdraw and posted to facebook. The sympathy I received was nice to read.
For the rest of the week I enjoyed reading about all my friends finishing the race and looking at their photos. For quite a few of them it was their first marathon. I was a little more gutted, but very pleased for them.
So, in retrospect, did I make the right decision? I have to say yes. The knee is still painful and I can only manage a couple of miles before it gets very sore. I had no choice. I still want to lower my 10k time before the end of the year and I need to give myself the best chance of being fit for the two 10k's I have signed up for, starting with Scarborough tomorrow.
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