Temple Start, Uphill Finish: Lessons From The Kanto Narita 10k

What started at a beautiful temple in Narita turned into one of the hardest, most honest efforts I’ve given in years. This race reminded me of something simple. Every race starts in the mind, and it finishes there too.

Two simple men

Early Trains

For races that start around 9 or 10am, I usually just wake up early and travel out there, instead of staying overnight. The Narita 10k kicked off at 10, so Sebastian and I were on the train at 6am, breakfast packed.

Oats, berries, and a quiet train. A bit of chatting. A bit of zoning out. By 8:30, we were in Narita and walking toward the temple.

I enjoy these race mornings. They feel like I'm off on a little adventure :)

Racing Through History

The start and finish were inside a famous temple complex. Wooden buildings. Stone paths. Beautifully manicured gardens. A calm, sacred feeling everywhere.

Then mixed in were runners in bright singlets, carbon shoes, and nervous energy.

Old Japan and modern racing culture side by side. Pretty neat.

Toshoji Temple (Sogo Reido)

Toilet Queue Strategy Session

First mission: find the toilet. Only issue with this location was they had one male toilet and one female toilet for hundreds of runners. Therefore, I spent 40 minutes in line. Not ideal but I ate an onigiri, sipped my pre-race drink, and stayed calm while thinking about my race plan. If racing has taught me anything, it's that stress rarely helps.

Warm up and stretching area inside the temple

Course Recon And A Little Reality Check

To warm up I jogged the first kilometer of the course and immediately noticed something interesting.

First 500 meters flat. Next 500 meters steep, steep, steeeep downhill.

Great for the start.

But then it hit me.

That same road is the finish. Which means the final 500 meters is a long, punishing uphill.

Good reminder right there. Know the course. Know what's coming.

A Simple Plan

The weather was warmer than usual. Above 10 degrees for sure. Shorts and singlet. Perfect.

My plan was built entirely around feel.

3kms fast but relaxed. Another 3kms sitting right on that feeling and pace. 2kms lifting effort. Then the final kilometer broken into two parts. 500m uphill, hold on and don't drop off. 500m flat to the finish, all out war. Empty the tank completely.

Feeling good. Feeling relaxed.

Given the last few months, mindset mattered. I was only recently back from an ankle injury. Most of my training had been very controlled. 5kms easy every second day. Slowly building to 7-8kms. Almost zero speed work.

The Gunma Half the week before gave me some confidence. But this one was different. This was speed. This was sharp. I knew my heartrate would be up.

The goal I had in my head: a sub 36 minute 10km. Anything in the 35s would be a win.

It's go time.

Settle In. Trust the process.

The gun went.

3:10 pace first km.

3:20 pace second km.

3:30 pace third km.

The first 3kms flew by. Then I settled-in. Held 3:30 pace for the next 3-4kms. 8 kms in and we hit a headwind. My pace slipped to 3:45 in the 8th kilometre, and again, 3:45 in the 9th. It hurt but I had a plan to execute.

I stayed calm. Sticking to the plan mattered more than what my watch was telling me.

For most of the race I was shoulder to shoulder with a young high school runner. We cheered eachother on as we ran together. "Ganbatte bro". Just two runners working together. What a beautiful thing.

The Hill

At the 9 kilometre mark we hit the base of the 500 metre climb. I’d run ahead of my high school buddy by then and caught up to, and formed a pack, with three others. We hit the hill together.

One of them was the girl running in first place, the crowd of her university peers lining the road was absolutely losing it. Students on both sides, screaming their lungs out, it gave our little pack energy because she was there.

As we started climbing, she surged. All that noise and energy gave her wings. I sat calmly at the back of the group, knowing exactly what I was doing. There was no rush. Not yet. I wanted something left for the top.

Halfway up, the girl began breathing really hard and fell to the back of our pack. I was breathing the eaiest but let the 2 other boys take the lead with about 250m of the climb still to go. At this point I knew this was no longer about legs. It wasn’t even about lungs or fitness. It was all in the head now. I locked in.

With maybe 50 metres of climbing left, the road began to flatten. I first saw it then felt it. This was it. Time to move. He who hesitates has lost, I told myself. Fuck it. I made the call and let it rip. I ran out from behind the boys and went for it.

My legs felt like they were made of concrete. My mind was screaming at me to stop.

Not now. Not ever.

From there it was pure heart. Over the next 500 metres I switched my mind off and let my body relax. I pumped my arms and ran as hard and as fast as I possibly could, all the way to the finish line.

Last 50m!

Honest Effort

I crossed the line in 35 minutes and 54 seconds. Later we found there was a two-second chip timing difference, but it didn’t matter. Sub-36 was the goal, and I got there. More importantly, I was proud of how it felt. The effort was honest. No shortcuts. No panic. Just trusting the work and trusting the process.

Japan is absolutely packed with serious high school and university runners. Everyone around me raced hard, and I felt like I really belonged in that effort. I didn’t place, but I walked away proud of how I showed up and how I raced.

After the finish, I thanked the three others I’d been battling with for the last kilometre. What an incredible effort from the first place girl. I also saw the young high school kid I’d run with for most of the race and thanked him too. Those moments mean a lot to me. Even when you’re completely cooked and can barely string a sentence together, there’s this shared respect. We’re all in it together.

What a race.

Having Sebastian there also meant a lot. It always feels like the two of us are on a little mission inside something much bigger. I’m grateful he filmed the finish and stayed with me while I caught my breath, gathered myself, and let the whole thing sink in.

Man, that was.. hard..

Race Food, Japanese Style

Post race, we walked to a tiny teishoku restaurant that looked a bit rough from the outside. Very rough actually.

Inside: father and son. The dad was smoking at the counter, smiling, genuinely happy we had come all the way to Narita just for the race.

Pork, onion, ginger. Mountain of rice. Exactly what you want after a hard effort.

Couple hungry and happy boys!

Then back to Koenji. All you can eat yakiniku that night. We feasted and talked about racing, training, upcoming adventures.

Perfect end to the day.

Why This One Mattered

I left Narita feeling grateful and quietly fired up. Backing up the Gunma Half Marathon the week before, this race reinforced something that’s been becoming clearer with every passing week.

When I commit properly, when I really lock my mind in, the body follows. It’s that simple. In 2026, I’m continuing to go all in on that commitment to myself.

And honestly, that’s why I love racing in Japan. Every weekend feels like a blend of travel, culture, community, and a chance to test myself. I get to explore new places, meet people, and see what I’m capable of when I show up fully.

Just the start!