Not A Sprint... But A Half-Mantathon
Last weekend, I completed my first ever Half Marathon in aid of The British Heart Foundation. It took me 2 hours 26 minutes and 19 seconds.
In many ways, I still can’t believe that I’ve actually done it. Its been a pretty long and arduous process and feels very surreal to have got there in the end. In May last year, in an attempt to escape from my undergraduate finals, I made the questionable decision to start running. At that point I also had the entirely ridiculous idea to go from no running experience at all to signing up for a half-marathon 5 months later, in the hope that having something to work towards would push me into seeing it through.
My initial plans to run the half marathon that October, however, were scuppered after I ended up with a broken foot during a surfing trip to Bali in late August. After resting up for a few months, I re-entered the Warwick race in April.
Particularly when I look back at my first couple of weeks of running (or my attempts to), I find myself amazed at how far I’ve managed to come in the space of a year. I honestly feel that learning to run has pushed me to grow as a person and has taught me a few things in particular that I wanted to share with you.
Firstly, I’ve found that there’s something enjoyable in not knowing what you’re doing and having to work it out on your own. The process of learning to run is the first thing that I’ve done in a long time that I have started as a complete novice. I usually shy away from things that are completely alien to me. But, as the saying goes, if something’s worth doing, it’s worth doing badly. At least to start with. While after years of competitive swimming and dance, training to improve technique or speed is not something that I am a complete stranger to, I think that working at a sport as a beginner is a brilliant thing to do. It gives you a visceral opportunity to chart your progress, particularly over a reasonably short period of time, in a way that you can’t with activities or sports that you’ve worked at for years. When you’re confronted with smaller challenges and hurdles, they are often more gratifying to overcome, because it’s done in such leaps. It has caused my outlook on things I’ve never tried to become a lot more open.
Running is something that I’ve had to work out by myself, and while I definitely have terrible technique, I’ve really enjoyed the process of steadily and determinedly working towards something that I have no skill at, at all. I’m incredibly glad that I’ve persevered and now can’t imagine life without it.
Secondly, I’ve found that running has taught me to be a lot more patient with myself. Getting used to doing sports that you’re good at, have a lot of experience in, or perhaps even just a natural aptitude for, I often feel makes you harsher and more unreasonable in terms of the expectations you place upon yourself. In dance, for instance, if a coach points out a flaw in my technique, I will often expect myself to improve immediately, and become frustrated when I don’t. In my mind, if I’ve done something for years, I should be able to adapt quickly. It’s not in my nature to give up or leave it unfinished and as a result, I will often keep working incessantly until I’m satisfied with the result. I can thus be incredibly impatient.
Running, however, has given me a lot more assurance that I’ll get there eventually, maybe just not this instant. It’s not something that you can improve at quickly; it’s much more about steadily building up your fitness and stamina by running further distances much more gradually, and allowing yourself time to recover. The process of which has really allowed me to make peace with the idea that I can have a little more patience with myself.
Lastly, it has really shown me something about my own ability to realise my goals with a bit more self-belief. At one point, around the eleventh mile, I was genuinely considering giving up. I had found the continuous ups and downs of the course particularly tough and was beginning to feel a cramping pain in my right side. I was seriously contemplating stopping and walking the last two miles.
My saving grace, however, came in the form of a little boy standing at the sidelines with a box of jelly babies. It’s quite common for people to stand, en route, handing out water, squash and sweets, undoubtedly waiting for family or friends. Even now, I’m not sure whether he saw something on my face, or had been saying the same thing to every runner who went past, but he stretched out the box, looked up at me and said, ‘Keep going!’
For some reason, his words completely overwhelmed me, and I pushed on for the last part of the race. Whether the two jelly babies gave me the last burst of energy I needed, or his words were enough, I will never know. Somehow it gave me the assurance to keep at it, that it was only a few more miles. I’m now not sure that I could have run the whole course, nor finished it in the time that I did, without him.
I suppose, therefore, that I've come to realise that with a little faith, support and a lot of preparation, I'll always get there in the end.
So, if you're still reading, have a spare couple of pounds and are feeling generous, my Just Giving Page is still open for donations, and can be reached here. The BHF are a truly fantastic cause who do so much throughout the UK. Any donations, big or small, will really help make a difference.
