The Experimental Distance
Half-marathons can be run like 5Ks or ultras, and that’s why they are ideal for taking big risks
Looking back, my half-marathon PB (so far!) probably taught me more about running than any other single race that I’ve run. Sure, the marathon can be far more humbling, and when done correctly (i.e. with a great deal of training, race-day patience and luck) is perhaps the most rewarding experience in sports. But because a marathon is such an all-or-nothing endeavour, it’s not an experience you can play with. The half, however, is an opportunity to experiment.
A few years back, on a rather hilly course in lateFebruary, I decided to throw all caution to the wind (and there was some of that as well), and just see what I could do. I had a relatively good idea of what sort of shape I was in, and was a bit disappointed with what I had to work with. In the moments before the race, I decided I would take every risk as the opportunity materialized in front of me. For some reason, the first one presented itself as I geared up at the local gym, where the race was being hosted. I decided to take off my gps watch, that technological safety blanket for runners, and leave it tucked into one of my winter boots.
When the gun went off, I took the next risk that presented itself before me, and I followed one of my much faster club mates. When we hit the first major hill climb, I ran it like it was a repeat, and told myself to worry about the recovery when the course f lattened out – which it only did about 5k later. By the time we got to the halfway point of the race, I was sucking wind hard. I recall thinking, as I nearly collapsed upon the orange cone when I twisted around a hairpin turn, that I was close to my 10k PB, and it felt more like I’d been running a 5k.
I was convinced the next 10k was going to be a grim positive split, but just as I was embracing the idea of a graceful meltdown, my next risk revealed itself before me. I was still somehow hanging on to my club mate and I heard something unexpected from him – gasping. So, I decided, why not, I would step into the open road next to him and go for the pass. Someone long ago told me that if you’re going to dare to pass someone, do it with confidence. So I held my breath, as to conceal my own hyperventilating (note: this is not a great idea), and I ran as hard as I could.
When I finally dared inhale and reveal that I was suffering badly, I noticed something between my frantic snorts – or, rather, I noticed a lack of something, anything. My club mate had vanished behind me somewhere. I dared not look over my shoulder, and instead looked ahead and decided upon my final risky move: I’d run even harder, all the way to the finish line. I smashed my personal best that day by a few minutes, and discovered that the half-marathon can be run with incredibly intensity. I also tapped into what Alex Hutchinson writes about in his fantastic new book, Endure: perhaps it’s worth pushing your limits repeatedly and aggressively, if for no other reason than to see if they can me moved back.
The next time you take on this glorious distance, make note of a few risks that can be taken at that distance, such as running just a little bit faster, and becoming engaged with the runners around you. You are in a race, after all, and although measuring yourself against others is fruitless, challenging yourself through them can help you unlock your true potential. Just remember to eventually breathe after you’ve passed a supposedly faster runner.