Today I Failed
The sky outside my window was a dark canvas, painted with the heavy brushstrokes of rain. Thunder rumbled softly in the distance, a reminder of the storm that had set in overnight.
Today (22/6) was the day of the final group run that introduced critical parts of the route for the UTSG50 ultra-marathon next weekend. Despite the early hour, I was awake well before my alarm, my mind buzzing with anticipation and doubt.
I lay in bed, listening to the relentless downpour, convinced that the run would be cancelled. The thought of running in such weather seemed absurd.
Even so, I checked my phone, scrolling through messages to see if anyone had called it off. But there was nothing definitive. The longer I waited, the more I convinced myself that staying in bed was the sensible choice. Eventually, I surrendered to the comfort of my warm sheets, letting my eyes drift shut again.
When I finally woke up properly, it was past the time for the group run. I reached for my phone and saw the messages: the run was on!
Despite the rain, at least 20 to 30 people had shown up, determined to train no matter the conditions. Guilt gnawed at me. They understood the importance of this run — rain or shine. They showed up. And I didn’t.
I knew what missing this run meant. It was more than just skipping a routine practice. This was a chance to get familiar with the 50km route. Without going for this practice run, I would be running the UTSG50 route for the first time, relying solely on the GPX information, without any local knowledge.
The challenge ahead seemed even more daunting. Navigating, pacing, and managing aid stations without firsthand experience felt like trying to solve a puzzle blindfolded.
But as much as I regretted not going, I reminded myself not to be too upset. Life was full of such moments, when things didn’t go as planned. The key was to learn from them. I grabbed my journal and began to write, detailing my thoughts and excuses. By putting them down on paper, I could see them for what they were — baseless fears and rationalizations. I resolved to recognize these excuses the next time they surfaced and push through them.
Did this mean I had failed? No way. The day was still young. I decided to make the most of it.
Later that afternoon, I headed out to collect my number bib for the race. I had planned a short run in the evening to test the GPX file and get a feel for some parts of the route. After collecting the number bib and as I walked back to the train station, I felt a sense of determination replacing my earlier self-doubt.
However, fate had other plans. As I waited for the traffic light to change at a major road crossing, a sharp pain shot through my right heel and calf. I hadn’t been running, just walking, but something was wrong. I tried to stretch it out, but the pain only worsened, growing tighter with each step. By the time I reached the train station, I could barely put weight on my right foot.
Fear and frustration mingled as I thought about the upcoming race. Had I injured myself? Would I be able to recover in time for the race? My mind raced with questions and doubts as I boarded the train, the pain in my leg a constant reminder of the uncertain road ahead.
To be continued …
