I completed my first marathon at SCSM 2024 with a finish time of 5:20:37 and an average pace of 7:29/km. What makes this interesting is that before November 2023, I had never run - not even casually. This post chronicles my journey from being a complete non-runner to finishing a marathon in less than a year, including all the training, mistakes, and lessons learned along the way.
The Unexpected Beginning
After wrapping up my first semester in November 2023, I found myself in that familiar post-finals limbo - you know, those weird few days before vacation where you’re suddenly free but don’t quite know what to do with yourself. And in true twenty-something fashion, I made what seemed like the most logical decision at the time: “I should start running!” followed was the classic modern fitness journey - diving deep into running blogs, convincing myself that the couch-to-5K program was the only sensible way to start because, well, I had never run before. Like, ever. Not even in school if I could help it
I downloaded all the beginner running apps, read through countless “How to start running” guides, and mentally prepared myself for weeks of struggling to run even a single kilometer. But sometimes, life has other plans.
On that crisp November morning, I laced up my regular sneakers and headed out for what I thought would be a humbling experience. Instead, I ran a full 5K in 40:01!
The funny thing about surprising yourself on that first run? It completely rewrites your narrative about what’s possible - and sometimes leaves you a bit lost! There I was, staring at my running app, having accidentally speedrun through what was supposed to be a 6 to 9 week couch-to-5K program in a single day 😅. Talk about task failed successfully!
For the next week, I found myself in this weird running limbo. No structured program, no specific goals - just heading out for daily 5-6K runs, letting my feet and curiosity guide the way. It was liberating in a way, running just for the sake of running, without obsessing over pace or time. Then vacation called, and my running shoes took a well-deserved break.
The Real Beginning
2024 kicked off with a mix of vacation afterglow and renewed determination. January 22nd, became the official “Day One” of my running journey 2.0. Coming back from vacation, I strapped on my running shoes(Nike Pegasus 40) and clocked a 5K in 31:35, a whole nine minutes faster than my pre-vacation time. This unexpected improvement was both exciting and, in retrospect, slightly misleading. In running, as I’d soon learn, rapid early gains can give you a false sense of progress
The post-vacation clarity brought an important realization: if I wanted to tackle a marathon by year’s end, I needed more than just enthusiasm. After spending countless hours on r/running (that familiar mix of inspiration and intimidation that every beginner knows), I decided to take a more measured approach and set my sights on a half-marathon first.
The McGillian 21K training program caught my attention. While it was designed to prepare runners for an actual race, I adopted it as my training framework without a specific race day in mind. This pressure-free approach gave me the structure I needed while allowing me to focus purely on building my running foundation.
The Learning Curve
They say running teaches you a lot about yourself. Well, my knees decided to teach me my first lesson - the infamous ITB syndrome, and not just in one knee, but both! Nothing says “slow down, hotshot” quite like bilateral knee pain.
Instead of stopping, I adapted. Alongside my regular runs, I started incorporating strength work into my routine. Those knee strengthening exercises I’d scrolled past on running forums? They became essential - squats, clam shells, and a nightly date with ice packs. The running continued, just with more attention to what my body was telling me.
But sometimes, enthusiasm still gets the better of us. March 23, 2024, stands out vividly in my training log. After what felt like an eternity of training (though in reality, it was barely a month), I convinced myself I was ready for a 21K. The confidence was admirable, the execution less so. That evening run started like any other, but by the 16K mark, the warning signs were clear - labored breathing, struggling steps. Yet something in me refused to stop. I pushed on until 18K when my body finally won the argument.
What followed was a harsh lesson in respecting training limits. Post-run, I managed a shower and a burrito, only to find myself shaking uncontrollably, feeling like I was coming down with the flu. The next morning brought clarity - I wasn’t sick, just thoroughly exhausted. It was my first real encounter with severe physical fatigue, a memorable introduction to what happens when enthusiasm outpaces preparation.
That exhausting experience led to a crucial shift in my approach. I started doing what felt counterintuitive at first - I slowed down. Not just my pace, but my entire mindset towards training. The concept of “easy pace” emerged as my biggest mental hurdle. I had read numerous Reddit posts where runners described struggling with their easy pace runs, feeling like they were barely moving. I could relate completely. But this newfound patience transformed my running journey. The numbers tell the story: by my 49th training run, I was setting personal records that felt sustainable rather than soul-crushing. My 5K time settled at 29:19, while my 10K improved to 1:02:37.
The real breakthrough came three sessions later when I completed 15K in 1:40:33 and conquered my first 10-mile run in 1:49:43. These weren’t just faster times; they were evidence that sometimes, slowing down is the fastest way forward. The most satisfying part wasn’t just the improved times - it was how I felt after these runs. Gone were the days of collapsing at my doorstep. These runs felt controlled, confident, and most surprisingly, left me wanting more. I’d finish each planned distance feeling strong, knowing I could go further but choosing to stick to the program. It was a new kind of discipline, one that prioritized consistency over immediate gratification.
Then came the great hibernation 🦥. As my half marathon training plan and semester wrapped up around May 31, 2024, I found myself sliding into a comfortable break. While I managed to squeeze in occasional strength workouts, running took a complete backseat. What started as a well-deserved vacation morphed into two months of “I’ll start next week” feeling. Between marathon sessions of Oxygen Not Included and indulging in deliciously greasy food, my running shoes gathered more dust than miles.
The Comeback
After finishing my summer break, I registered for SCSM 2024 around August 13th. Despite having only 12 weeks until race day instead of the recommended 18, I decided to tackle Hal Higdon’s Intermediate 1 training plan. This time around, I was armed with hard-earned wisdom from my previous training cycle - consistent weekly strength training, sticking to prescribed paces, and following the plan’s distances to the letter. The first few weeks were humbling, as my body readjusted to the demands of regular running. It took about 2-3 weeks to back my pre-break paces and distances, but the steady progress felt different this time - more sustainable, more intentional.
The long runs became the unexpected highlight of my training cycle, all thanks to my questionable choice of starting at 4 AM. My trusty Saucony Endorphin Speed 3s became my go-to shoes for these pre-dawn long runs. Singapore’s weather threw its signature downpours at me, making these 25-32K training runs more challenging than planned mostly because I was afaird of slip, trip and fall scenarioEverytime I’m walking a wet floor my brain always thing of the #STFCampaign around NUS campus. While the wet conditions forced me to run slower than my target paces, I actually started looking forward to these sessions. The empty streets meant no dodging traffic or pedestrians, and the consistent rain kept me cool throughout the long distances. Looking back now even though these long runs were important part of the training block, I think it was a stupid decision to run this early but at the same time these runs are probably few of my favourite runs of 2024.
Tech behind the journey
- Daily Trainers: Nike Pegasus 40 - The trusty workhorse that never complained
- Long Runs: Saucony Endorphin Speed 3 - Made those 32K training runs feel (almost) manageable
- Race Day: ASICS Gel Nimbus 26 - The chosen one for the big day Due to Speed 4’s high price point and the store being out of Speed 3 stock :(
- Fuel: GU chocolate gels - The taste and texture were both excellent
Having already logged around 350km in my Saucony Speed 3, I now realize I could have likely used them for the race as well. However, to be on the safe side, I purchased the ASICS Nimbus 26 about three weeks before the race and logged around 90km in them to ensure they were properly broken in. While there was nothing wrong with the Nimbus, I don’t think they were the optimal choice. Coming from the Speed 3, they felt less stacked (which they objectively are) and less “bouncy” (which they also are). During the race, I had no issues with the Nimbus, and even though I knew from my long runs that they were heavier than the Speed 3, I surprisingly didn’t notice the weight difference - perhaps because I had many other things on my mind on race day. I’ve come to realize that shoes like the Speed 3/4 and similar models are what I enjoy running in, rather than flatter profiles like the Pegasus 40 or Nimbus 26. Of course, this is purely about personal feel, as I’ve never had any issues with any of these shoes.
Regarding fuel, the only affordable options I could find were Honeystinger and GU (yes, my Indian friends, that’s actually the name of something you eat). The Honeystinger felt like a super sticky paste that was difficult to swallow, while GU had a more pleasant mouth feel and was easier to consumeThe last two lines were very painful to write
Race Day
Pre Race: The Night Before & Race Morning
The SCSM race was scheduled for 4:30 AM on December 1st, and I had meticulously planned every detail. The schedule seemed bulletproof: sleep by 5 PM on November 30th, wake up at midnight, fuel up with my pre-race meal, and arrive at the start line between 3:30 - 4:00 AM. But as with most perfect plans in life… 🙃
A close friend was visiting, and what was meant to be a quick evening chat stretched into a 7 PM bedtime. Then came the plot twist. Just when I thought I’d drifted off to sleep, I found myself wide awake at 9:30 PM to what sounded like an industrial wood chipper in my room - my friend’s Olympic-level snoring Despite my desperate attempts with noise-canceling earbuds and white noise apps, their snoring pierced through every sound barrier I tried to create. At one point, I even contemplated the ethical implications of using a clothespin, but settled for recording the thunderous display instead (you know, for posterity 😈). And so there I was, during what should have been my crucial pre-marathon rest, mindlessly diving into YouTube rabbit holes and questioning my life choices. Not exactly the zen pre-race preparation I had pictured.
Pro tip: When they say “arrive early for a marathon,” they mean it. Despite reaching the starting area at 3:30 AM, I still ended up in the infamous porta-potty lines that seem to be a universal marathon experience. My pen was supposed to start around 5:10 but everything got delayed and since I was almost THERE I decided to stay in line due to which I started with a Pen After me at around 5:30 AM
First 30K
The race start threw me an unexpected curveball. During my recent training runs, I’d consistently maintained a heart rate of 129-135 BPM for the first 20K at a 6:45/km pace. Yet here I was at the race start, running 7:30-8:00/km with my heart rate already climbing to 138-140. By the 10K mark, my heart rate had surged to 155-165 BPM, which baffled me completely. Since I can’t explain this anomaly, I’ll playfully blame it on my friend’s sleep-disrupting snoring performance. Though curiously, despite the elevated heart rate, I don’t recall feeling particularly fatigued.
My fueling strategy was straightforward: one gel every 45 minutes. I’d even successfully practiced with hourly gel intervals during training runs, so the 45-minute spacing seemed conservative. However, I deviated from this plan during the race, improvising based on feel rather than sticking to the schedule, which I think was a mistake. I had packed 8 gels and should have used them all given my finish time.
Here’s how my gel consumption actually played out:
Gel #1: 45 min - Still feeling fresh!
Gel #2: 1:30 - Starting to feel the distance
Gel #3: 2:15 - Getting into the rhythm
Gel #4: 3:10 - Beginning to question life choices
Gel #5: 4:03/4:04 - Desperately needed
Gel #6: 4:30/4:40 - Pure survival mode
In retrospect, I should have taken a gel every 40 minutes. This would have meant consuming all eight gels at proper intervals, and that “desperately needed” phase around the fifth gel might not have happened at all.
The first 30K of the race brought an unexpected source of motivation. Around the 18K mark, I spotted a runner in their late-50s maintaining a 6:50-7:00/km pace. Impressed by their consistency, I decided to make them my unofficial pacer. This strategy worked well until the 22K point when they stopped, presumably to adjust their shoes. While I managed to catch up with them again at the 26K water station, my hope of having a reliable pacer was short-lived. They suddenly accelerated to an impressive 6:00-6:15/km pace, forcing me to abandon my pacer strategy to preserve my own race plan. Though I searched for other runners maintaining a similar rhythm, no one quite matched my gradually declining pace of 7:10-7:20/km. The remainder of my race transformed into a solo journey through the crowd, made bearable by my friend’s enthusiastic appearances along the course, camera in hand, offering much-needed encouragement.
Second Half
You know how everyone talks about “hitting the wall” in a marathon? Well, mine came a bit early and with a view - around the 30-32K mark on a highway bridge. There’s something uniquely demotivating about seeing runners coming back on the other side of a bridge you haven’t even finished crossing yet. It’s like watching your future self suffer while your present self is already questioning everything.
But the real villain of this story? The sun. While running up the highway, the sun was beaming intensely overhead, but I barely noticed it since it was behind me. Around the 35-36K mark, we had to make a U-turn on that same highway. While there was mental relief in finally being on the return stretch, the sun was now directly in my face, making each step increasingly challenging. The heat became so unbearable that I started grabbing ice from aid stations, wrapping it in small cloths to create makeshift cooling crowns while running. At one point, I even ran with a wet, cold cloth on my face for about 600 meters. In retrospect, probably not the best decision, but when your legs feel like they’re on fire and your face feels like it’s near molten lava, you get creative with your cooling strategies.
With the sun beating down, my legs screaming, and thirst intensifying with each step, I was still clinging to hopes of finishing around the 5:00 mark. That’s when reality hit - the 5:30 pacers and their small group of followers passed me. The shock of seeing them jolted me into action; I knew if I didn’t keep up with them, my race would completely unravel.
If there’s one group that deserves my deepest gratitude, it’s those 5:30 pacers. From the 37K mark onward, they became my anchor. Every time my mind begged me to slow down (roughly every 30 seconds), their steady presence kept me moving forward. While I never doubted that I would finish the race, I’m certain I wouldn’t have made it under 5:30 without them. This makes me wonder - if I had caught the 5:00 pacers at the start, perhaps by skipping the porta-potty line and starting on time, could I have finished even stronger? This thought especially nags at me given what I managed in the final push.
The Final Push
Running behind the pacers became a constant mental battle between slowing down and pushing forward. Then suddenly, one of the pacers called out “keep pushing, just 1.5K more!” Something clicked, and I thought “fuck it” and just went for it. According to my watch, I ran that final kilometer (though it felt much longer) at a 5:40/km pace. The finish line itself is a blur - I vaguely remember an intersection where I thought “not far now,” and then suddenly a volunteer was congratulating me.
This final surge made me wonder about my overall pacing strategy. Could I have maintained a faster pace throughout the race? Though there’s also an argument that this strong finish was only possible because I’d been running with slightly slower pacers, conserving energy for that final push. Either way, it’s something to consider for future races.
The Aftermath: Victory and Recovery
After crossing the finish line, collecting my medal and post-race fuel, I allowed myself a few minutes of pure horizontal recovery. Once I reunited with my friend and changed into fresh clothes, the real celebration began. First stop: Nando’s, because 42.2K definitely justifies all the chicken and wedges you can eat! 🍗
The post-race recovery took an interesting turn. I managed to sleep from 1:30 PM to 4:30 PM, and thankfully, my friend’s epic snoring had taken a break. However, when I woke up, I experienced something unsettling - about 90% of my vision was gone. Even after rubbing my eyes and rinsing them, I could barely see anything. I decided to hydrate and return to sleep, eventually waking again around 7 PM feeling more human, though with a mild headache. The most surprising part was how well my legs held up. Despite completing a marathon, I could walk with only minimal soreness. Perhaps this was the payoff from all those training miles? While my finishing time might not have broken any records, my training had accomplished its primary goal - getting me through 42.2K without completely falling apart.
Reflections and Lessons Learned
Looking back at my first marathon experience, there are several key lessons I’d share with my past self: First and foremost, proper rest before race day isn’t negotiable. While I can’t say with certainty, I believe my early heart rate issues might have been mitigated with better pre-race sleep. Regardless of the specific cause, ensuring adequate rest before a marathon is crucial.
My fueling strategy needed more discipline. Despite having a solid plan to take one gel every 40 minutes - which is generally considered a good approach for beginners - I failed to stick to it consistently. While elite runners completing marathons in under 3 hours might have different approaches, this basic strategy would have served me well.
Perhaps most importantly, I learned that training conditions significantly impact race day performance. I did all my training runs in the early morning, essentially conditioning my body for pleasant weather. Ironically, while the days before and after the race offered perfect conditions, race day itself was brutally hot. Moving forward, I plan to incorporate training runs at various times of day, regardless of the scheduled race time, to better prepare for different conditions.
However, here’s the beautiful part: despite all these challenges - the mistakes, the scorching sun, and the learning curve - I completed my first marathon. It wasn’t a perfect race, but it was perfectly mine, every sweaty, exhausting, and exhilarating kilometer of it. Being my first marathon, it provided invaluable insights into the realities of race day dynamics. In the end, it proved to be an excellent debut race, rich with lessons for the future.