Sunday morning in Riga, Latvia. It’s raining. There are puddles everywhere. I’m soaked before I even hit the 5K mark. And yet — I crossed that finish line with a brand new marathon PR: 3:17:56.
That’s over 11 minutes faster than my previous best (3:29:07 in Perth during the Great World Race). And no, I didn’t train more. I didn’t carb-load smarter. I didn’t suddenly become a running robot.
But I ran free. I ran without mental burdens. I ran like someone who had nothing to prove and everything to feel.
I didn’t sign up for this marathon thinking “PR.”
Ger messaged. He was running it.
Andreijs is from Riga.
A few more of our 777 crew were going.
It was a chance to see people I love and share the thing we all love doing: running marathons.
I didn’t need more of a reason.
I hadn’t trained the way I usually do.
I found some plan online, ran less than normal, and just hoped it would be enough.
Spoiler: I didn’t think it was.
The week before wasn’t ideal.
I’d tried to run on the Great Wall of China Marathon and had to bail — my fear of heights got in the way.
Work stuff got messy, which left me tired and distracted.
Training hadn’t been amazing to begin with, and on Saturday night, I felt like I might be getting sick.
So no, I didn’t show up to the start line feeling confident or fired up.
I told myself: just run because you love it. See what happens.
What happened: rain, chaos, legs that kept going.
The start was packed. I spent the first few kilometers just trying not to trip or slip.
And yet… I felt good. Like really good.
My legs showed up for me.
I started doing what I always do: calculating splits to pass the time.
I was moving faster than expected, but it didn’t feel forced.
Then, around the 2-hour mark, I noticed I had dropped two of my gels.
Gone. No backup.
I panicked, slowed down, and told myself: Don’t be stupid. Adjust. Finish strong.
The last 16K felt like forever.
I was tired. I was nauseous (thanks to the nutrition mishap).
I honestly thought I was going to throw up.
But I kept moving.
Not because I felt powerful — but because I didn’t want to give up on a race that was somehow still working.
I wasn’t chasing a time anymore.
I just wanted to get to the end without hitting the wall.
And I did.
3:17:56.
I didn’t even know what to feel first.
Pride? Disbelief? Relief that I didn’t puke?
All of the above.
What this Marathon PR means to me
It means I don’t have to control everything for something great to happen.
It means I can show up tired, unsure, and unprepared — and still run strong.
It means that sometimes the best days don’t happen when you’re perfectly ready.
They happen when you just decide to go anyway.
I didn’t run this race to impress anyone.
I didn’t think I had anything to prove.
But maybe I did have something to prove to myself — and I proved it.
For anyone out there doubting themselves:
You don’t need a perfect plan.
You don’t need perfect training.
You don’t even need to feel ready.
You just need to start.
Show up. Adjust. Trust yourself.
And don’t forget: the best wins don’t always feel like wins while you’re in them.
Sometimes they feel like rain and puddles and stomach cramps — and they still change everything.
Final bonus?
I didn’t poop my pants.
Which, after the Great World Race, honestly feels like a separate PR.