A race that wasn’t meant to be!

He just ran past the 30km mark and heaved a sigh of relief! This was his 5^th full marathon, and he was determined to set a new PR (personal record). The 16 weeks of training block before the race had given him immense belief.

At the 32km mark, he was relieved that he was on the pace to hit his PR. His mind had been practically a computer for the past 2 hours or so. Every kilometer of distance, it was churning data into insight; much like his day job. He hated his job; but mid-race number crunching, he loved. The weather was lovely with a cool breeze, just as expected. This was his A race, and he had carefully chosen this event because of the friendly conditions – 8 to 12 degrees temperature range, super low humidity, and the course as flat as it could be. He had read somewhere that these are ideal race conditions.

He remembered what his coach had told him. The real race begins after the 32km mark. He was ready to run the ‘real’ race; he was feeling good, feeling positive.

And then, out of nowhere he felt a few drops on his head, and a few moments later, his cap was fully wet! How on earth could it rain now? He was shocked; this wasn’t meant to be. How can the weather turn so drastically like this? But then, he remembered what his mentor had told him once. The weather during the race is like a girlfriend; you will never know which way it will flip.

His fellow runners were equally surprised, but the locals said this was just a passing shower. He noticed that his fellow runners weren’t too bothered by the rain. How could they not be? He put his head down, preparing to hustle.

And then, out of nowhere he felt a twinge in his right calf, and a few moments later, he felt his calf weigh three times more than it should. He was shocked as this wasn’t meant to be. How can a cramp turn up so drastically like this? But again, he remembered what his coach had told him once. Cramps are like sniper bullets on the battlefield; you can’t see or hear them coming, but they can hit you anytime.  

He adjusted his strides a bit and hoped that the cramp would magically disappear. His mind, ever so computer-like, predicted that he could still achieve his PR. He was 30 seconds behind the target pace but, what are those 60 seconds in the bank for? He put his head down, preparing to hustle.

And, out of nowhere, he felt a little tingle in the left calf and a few moments later it was as bad as the right calf. He continued to hustle. His mind stopped working now. Another kilometer went by and his smartwatch flashed the pace. He was 90 seconds behind the target pace. The minutes in the bank were gone. His PR dreams were crashing! He put his head down, preparing to hustle.

But hustle, he could not. He was struggling to move now. His fellow runners inquired if he was alright and motored on. He saw the pacing bus slower than his PR time pass by. He was distraught. He was barely moving. He wanted some inspiration but found none. The rain had magically stopped, but he had bigger problems to deal with. He thought about what his coach had told him about being in such a situation, but his mind was too cluttered. Instinctively, he decided to stop and stretch. He knew his PR dream was shattered!

He moved to the side and held onto the side rail of the road for support. Damn it! It came crashing down like a log of burnt wood. And along with that, he crashed on the road. He tried to stand up, but something wasn’t letting him get up. Those bloody calves were as tight as iron rods now. He was under tremendous pain and agony. His body started sweating profusely. He looked for some water but could not find any. The fellow runners weren’t too bothered about his condition. How could they not be? He tried to get up again but collapsed back halfway through. He knew his race was over!

And then, out of nowhere, he woke up. His legs were tangled in the blanket around his calves. His pillow was wet, because of spillage from a plastic water bottle on the side table. He was lying on the bed in the small hotel room, fully sweaty because there was no power in the room. He was up, and awake now.

It was a bad dream. He heaved a sigh of relief! His 5^th full marathon was still a few hours away. His race was not over. He was determined to set his PR.

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This short story is inspired by those dreadful sleepless or nightmare-laden nights before the race day. If you are a runner, you would relate to this. If you cannot, consider yourself blessed but be aware that this will happen to you anytime soon. Remember what your mentor told you about ‘a race that wasn’t meant to be.’

If you liked reading this short story, please be kind and share it within your network! I would be immensely grateful.