Never say never again

This may well be my last post on this blog. I'm still running, of course. As long as my legs can take it I have no intention of ever giving up this sport. Running defines me. I'm a runner. If I don't run, a part of me will have died. If I run and my health permits this, it helps to stay healthy, it helps to stay fit, it helps keep a trim shape, look a couple of years younger, and permits me to consume more calories than I would otherwise be able to without turning into a two-legged sphere. It also enables me to remain a part of the lovely bunch of people making up the world running community: my dear running friends in Malta and many familiar faces in Belgium, where I've set up home, as well as other countless thousands with whom I compete in running events around the world.

I named this blog Run 42k. It was my nickname chosen on an internet discussion forum over a decade ago. Clearly, it refers to the marathon, which is the event that has always fascinated me, of which I have now completed 16 editions. The list ("The Collection") is proudly displayed on the right.

A marathon is a long, long run. On new year's day a week ago, driving from Brussels to Ypres in West Flanders, there was a stretch of road marked on the GPS that was 42 km long. The length of a marathon. I mentioned this to Sue, my wife, who was seated next to me in the car, and driving this strip of road at high velocity took a long time. This test always impresses into me the fact that the marathon is no idle walk in the park at all. Running this far requires a huge effort including many weeks and months of preparation. Eventually, with the advancing years there has to be a last marathon. A marathon after which one says: this is it.

But there's a dilemma. How should "it" be? In 2013, following my marathon in Rotterdam, where I had struggled and slowed down to a limp at 7 km before the finish, before resuming my run and (incredibly) finishing with a sprint, I wrote a blog post here with the title "That's all folks", where I announced my retirement from marathons. Soon after, I thought that I shouldn't end my marathon career on such a sour note, so I decided to end with a "proper" performance. Two years later I ran in Vienna (a substitute for Paris, which was already sold out), and last April (2016) I made sure I could run the Paris marathon.

The last part of Vienna was also a struggle. In Paris I decided I should just concentrate on finishing comfortably and forget about the time. This strategy succeeded, but the finishing time turned out to be my worst ever. In a way, it was a good thing. If I had obtained a good time I would have considered that it was a pity to stop while I was doing so well. So, the relatively "comfortable" finish at a mediocre time was a good compromise for my last marathon.

Except that this year I was seriously considering having a final go at the place where it all started for me: in Malta. Injury decreed otherwise, so I'm still hoping that I can say a final goodbye to marathons some time in the future, in Malta. It would only be appropriate.

If not, I'm only too happy to take part in various half marathons and other events. Forgetting about any personal bests of course. If I set a PB at any distance at 54 years of age, it would only mean that I was not running properly at all when I was 30!

[P.S. A week after I wrote the above post, I went for a 90-minute run in freezing conditions. It was part of my comeback that would lead to a half marathon 6 weeks later. The run went exceedingly well. It may well have been my very last run. My hip played up again, quite painfully, late in the evening of that day. Since then it's just physiotherapy, with the knowledge that I have a lesion in the right 'labrum' of my hip. I sincerely don't know if I'll ever resume my regular running again. - 03/02/2017]