Ran and finished. 42.197km. 4:46:35.
Months of gruelling training culminated in a moment that stretched into the early afternoon of the 6th of October when I crossed the finish line at Praça do Comércio, in front of an incredible crowd of spectators and supporters. Among them were two of my closest friends, Vanessa and Tina, without whom I could never have managed on my own. There is nothing quite like the euphoria that follows overcoming a feat so difficult it required an effort just as herculean. It was, without a doubt, one of the hardest but best moments of my life.
An adrenaline-fueled start spiked my heart rate to around 168 bpm. It wasn’t ideal, but I couldn’t help it. Lisbon at six in the morning on race day was buzzing with excitement as fellow runners made their way to Cais do Sodré, a train station at the heart of the city. We were to take the train to the starting line in Cascais. The energy was electric—I loved it. I needed to feed off it because my legs were tired, not so much from the running, but from all the sauntering my friends and I had done a few days before the race. Light walking would have been fine, but we weren’t prepared for the hills Google Maps described as “mostly flat.” They were anything but flat.
As I positioned myself in my designated box just before the gun start, I could feel the incredible energy of the thousands of runners—6,000 strong, according to the organizers—whose unique journeys had led them to the same spot as mine. Runners of all shapes and sizes, fast and slow, converging in one place. Some, like me, were running their first marathon, others maybe their 10th or so. I wondered what motivated each of them.
As for myself, I knew that running a marathon in 2024 was one of my biggest goals for the year. It was an either “one and done” or “let’s see how it goes” type of thing. After all, there is no telling how the race will unfold. The anticipation, the uncertainty about what’s to come, the excitement mixed with nerves, and the commitment to finish—it’s all part of the process. Either way, I was determined to follow through.
With an overcast sky and the temperature in the high teens, I started the race feeling nothing but joy and gratitude. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect. I was grinning through the first few kilometers, soaking in the atmosphere, snapping photos and videos, and sending them to friends and family in real-time to keep them updated on my progress. On the way to the turning point past the five-kilometer mark, the elite runners passed us by, heading toward Lisbon. I was in awe of their effortless stride and strength. Their speed was twice as fast as mine. Unreal!
But for mere mortals like me, the race is a personal journey of self-discovery. The marathon, often used as a metaphor for life itself, is a test of grit, determination, and one’s ability to surrender completely to their destiny. As I do now in my own life, I tried not to rush and simply enjoyed the journey, full of ups and downs—literally. I followed my plan: start slow and finish strong. I trusted that my preparation would carry me through to the finish line. And, for the most part, it was as smooth sailing as I could have hoped for. The urgency of nature’s call forced me to make a pit stop at kilometer 14, but otherwise, I felt generally good, both physically and mentally, and was well within my goal time to finish under five hours.
The real test came at kilometer 32. It was the longest distance I’d ever run. Everything that came after was uncharted territory. The temperature was rising, my legs were dead tired, and I was aching all over. My spirit, however, was still very much alive. I had no doubt in my mind that I would finish, even if it meant crawling to the finish line. From that point on, I broke down the race one kilometer at a time, focusing on the mantra I kept repeating to myself: “We can do this because we can do hard things!”
It was hard when I struck cobblestone-covered streets that set my feet on fire. It was hard when the road became sparse with people, and the journey turned solitary. It was hard when I couldn’t spot the kilometer 39 mark, making that stretch seem endless. More than a physical battle, it was a mental one—a battle against my own will.
But hearing the crowd’s cheers, applause, and yells of encouragement as I rounded the corner to enter the city center at kilometer 41, I felt a second wind of fresh energy. It was enough to summon the strength to finish strong. Seeing my friends’ familiar faces among the crowd was a highlight. In my race, as in life, it meant a lot to have people in my corner. I am beyond grateful.
My marathon post-mortem revealed only one toenail as a casualty. It was an incredible experience, one that I cannot wait to relive. I don’t believe it was a one-and-done.
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I recall my marathon experience from several months ago while fresh off another race—a half marathon in my hometown where I surprisingly ended up 1st place in my age category (story for another day, maybe).