“I’ve Been Waiting For This My Whole Life”
Sonja Baikogli’s Challenging and Emotional Journey to the Finish Line
May 4th, 2014 marked one of the most incredible days of my life.
I woke up at 5 am with my anxiety levels running at an all time high. I had been waiting for race day for 4 months. Actually, no – I had been waiting for race day my whole life. I was about to embark on one of the most physically, mentally, and emotionally challenging journeys I had ever attempted. As I sat at my kitchen table taking sips of coffee, all I kept thinking was: “mind over matter.” I was nervous, very, very nervous.
Let’s make this clear: I am not a natural athlete and I don’t possess great running genes. But what I do have is a relentless desire to succeed. To many, marathon runners seem ridiculous. Marathon runners train endlessly, inevitably get injured, and put their bodies through great pain to be able to say they can run 42.2km. The reason why we run marathons isn’t an obvious one but, believe it or not, it’s not the actual marathon that matters, it’s what the marathon symbolizes in the context of our lives. For me, marathon running represents personal strength, struggle, defeat, resilience, victory, possibilities, and conquering the fear of the unknown.
About a month before race day, I experienced shin splints and knee pain, which caused me to question whether I had the strength and resilience to run. I knew deep down that the answer was yes, I would run, but I would have to rely on my mental strength to compensate for my lack in physical ability. Over the next few weeks, it was challenging to stay strong through my chiropractor appointments as well as my training runs. Despite the pain and daily reminders that my body wanted a break, I knew that without a doubt I would cross that finish line.
As I waved my family goodbye on that wet, rainy morning, I left all of my fears behind, believing that I had everything it took to complete the race with a smile. I started off, and at various points throughout the course I saw my friends and family. They cheered, encouraged, and supported me. At about 31-41km my shins had gone from numbed pain to screaming pain—this is where I began to really struggle, and every step forward was a painful one.
No matter how slow I ran, I kept going, placing one foot in front of the other. The most amazing thing about running a marathon for me is the solitude; I was my only competitor. At times I was lonely out on the course but my mantra of “mind over matter” (which I wrote in sharpie on my wrist) motivated me to continue.
In those last few kilometres I felt tears on my face, but I couldn’t help but smile because I knew the end was approaching. When I saw the Last KM sign, I put all my strength in my legs and let adrenaline carry me to the finish line. That last kilometer was epic. Friends and family were calling my name from all sides and an overwhelming amount of emotion rushed through me. I had finally crossed the finish line. I looked up in the grey and wet sky and thought to myself “I did it.” That moment was truly the greatest feeling I have experienced.
I did not achieve an impressive time or placement in the race but what I did achieve was very personal—I proved to myself that I could finish anything I set my mind to. The finish line was in essence the start line to my newborn perspective. To echo Nelson Mandela’s words, “It always seems impossible until it’s done.”
The BMO Vancouver Marathon may have been my first marathon but it was definitely not my last.
—Sonja