This year, I wanted to actually train for it. Which meant actually 'running' on most of my training runs. In previous years I've set out for runs with very good intentions in mind, only to spend the middle 4 miles of a 6 mile run gently ambling along looking at people's gardens, befriending random cats that I passed, struggling to get them to stop following me in case they give me rabies (this actually happened once; I'm still trying to forget it) and thinking about what I wanted for dinner.
I also felt self conscious about running in public. Now I'm not sure about you, but I always feel like you have to be in quite good shape to be seen out of the house running. It sounds ridiculous, but bear with me.
In a similar way, one of my work colleagues was ranting about how much she wanted to go to yoga classes, but that she felt she was too fat for it. How could she contort herself into all those shapes when there's all that wobbly stuff in the way. It just wouldn't happen. So she signed up for the gym so she could lose some weight and then go to yoga. And I totally agree. No one wants to see a runners' love handles or beer belly undulating when you're driving. It just doesn't look nice. And in all honesty, extra stuff flapping about just downright hurts.
If I found myself on a busy road (by busy, I mean more than 1 other person), I'd always walk and pretend and I was busy changing track on my iPod, remembering to pant to make it look like I had just done a long sprint. I was a wannabe-runner and I'll put both hands up and admit that.
This year I wanted to make sure that didn't happen. In all fairness, I already knew I was far fitter than I was at the same stage last year, but I still wanted to do things right. I upped my cardio exercises at the gym, joined a netball club, became best friends with the treadmill, and even started eating more carbs (all part of the training, right?).
So when the day of the run came yesterday, I was mortified about one thing. The weather. That's one thing about training on a treadmill. It's inside and well protected by lots of walls and a ceiling. And the little fan that cools you down, as much as it's a godsend when you're sweating like a sumo-wrestler in a sauna, it doesn't quite imitate what it's actually like to run outside in the wind.
And my god was it windy.
It was so windy the hashtag #UKStorm2013 was trending on Twitter, and I was to be running in it. What did I sign myself up for?
I'd been put into white wave for the run (slightly faster runners than green wave, but not quite as fast as orange wave), which was brilliant news for me. No better way to feel motivated than to be around other fast runners pushing themselves to the limits too. Unfortunately, me and my excessively weak bladder were in the queue for the toilet when the white wave began the race, so I had to start 10 minutes later with green wave.
Technically this was fine. You can move down waves, but not up. Which is all well and good, but fancy dress runners tend to be in the green wave. So it now meant that the first 2 miles of the race weren't spent actually running, but more doing an assault course, weaving in and out of people dressed as camels, dodging various butterfly wings from poking me in the face, and narrowly missing those who had already stopped to walk because 'they didn't realise quite how far it was'.
It was at mile 5 it started to get tough. The first 4 are relatively easy. There's a lot of commotion going on, big crowds, and bagpipe and brass bands playing along the route. Your head is so busy soaking up the atmosphere you don't even realise that you're running. But at mile 5 things started getting quieter. It starts to sink in. You're actually doing this. You realise that you didn't drink enough water before the race and your mouth is now parched, that you didn't do as many stretches as you should have done and your legs are now forgetting how to leg.
But nothing could have prepared me for mile 8 onwards. The last 2 miles are always the worst. It's the 'home straight', except this home straight along Southsea seafront is two miles long and just keeps on going and going and going....and going. With the gale force winds head-on it was like running through treacle with a ball and chain attached to your ankles. I looked around and everyone around me was in absolute agony, fighting the wind before stopping to catch their breath back.
It was at this point that I started noticing benches. I hadn't really noticed them the first 8 miles, my head was was (relatively) focused and I'd been running on track with how I'd been training at the gym . But now, with the wind pushing me back and my muscles screaming in pain, every bench looked so appealing. That's a nice looking bench. Look how comfy and un-painful it looks to be sat there. Oh look, there's another one, it even comes with an old lady with a flask full of tea, I'm sure she'd share it with me.
But I resisted the temptation of those wooden wonderlands and carried on. Then those glorious orange signs started becoming more frequent. 1000m to go. 800m to go. 400m to go. Come on Jenni, you can do this. Just think of all the food you can eat guilt-free after the race. The last 200m I started to sprint and felt my breakfast resurfacing, my hair flapping about my face like a scarf stuck in a car door, my head screaming 'NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN, EVER'.
But I did it. I crossed the line and came to an abrupt halt in 1 hr 47 minutes - the exact same time as last year. It may have been slightly slower than I wanted, but realistically I ran the best I could in the weather conditions and frankly, I couldn't be prouder.
But a lot of people always ask me - is it really all worth it? To train for months and put yourself through that much pain and agony and sweat and very, very bad hair, just to say you did it.
Well frankly, it is. I may be screaming in my head, or not able to walk for two days afterwards, but it's an incredible feeling. You're showing yourself that you can achieve so much more than you realise. You can look back and think 'yeah, I did that'. I always believe that you see your true potential when you challenge yourself and do something completely out of your comfort zone. Do something you never thought you'd be able to achieve. When you complete it, it gives you so much more confidence as a person, and makes you realise that actually, you can do anything you want to as long as you set your mind to it.
Plus, you get bragging rights for a year, a really cool medal, and a new bed-time t shirt. And if that's not worth the £40 entry fee, then god knows what is.
ABOVE: My friend Liam and I after the race.
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