Oct 4th, 2009 by admin
MY JOURNEY FROM A NON-EXERCISER TO A RUNNER
I’ve never ever been a sporty type person. I’ve heard other people say similar things and then disclose that actually maybe at school they did do a bit of cross country, or play for the netball team, belong to the local football club etc. Well I really mean I was never sporty. School sports activities to me meant something to avoid whenever possible. My avoidance tactics were diverse and imaginative and included hiding behind the P.E. shed with a group of friends sharing a cigarette, forged letters from my mother saying I was not well enough to participate, fake dental appointments……
Why was this I now wonder? Certainly at infant school I loved the whole sports day event. I was in the blues team which always came last in the annual awards ceremony and therefore held a special place in my heart. I jumped enthusiastically in the sack race, ran like a statue on wheels in the egg and spoon race and tumbled and giggled my way through the three legged race.
Somewhere, somehow, that enthusiasm and enjoyment of physical activity changed with my move to grammar school. The P.E. teachers were horribly bullying, sometimes taunting of my puny efforts at mastering new sports like hockey and cross country. Inevitably, the lucky few rose to the top and were singled out for praise, picked for teams and of course eventually winning trophies and medals.
Meanwhile I had found a new team spirit amongst fellow weaklings also mutinying against what by now had become an “us and them” situation.
Being one of four girls, the sports situation at home was no better. Poor old Dad could barely get a look in to watch his favourite team on the telly on a Sunday afternoon. Mum and the four of us girls were all watching the black and white weepie on the one and only TV we owned.
So now, at the age of 50 what has brought about such a change in my life that I am currently in the final stages of training for my first marathon and have a drawer full of medals for various races I have competed in over the last 2 years?
Well firstly, 2 years ago a very dear school friend of mine died shortly after her 50th birthday. She desperately did not want to die and had fought a debilitating illness with every ounce of strength she had for the preceding year. After her death I inevitably questioned a lot about life, my life, the meaning and purpose of anybody’s life.
Gradually I began to feel that I wanted to do more with my life in honour of the fact that I was still alive and healthy. I couldn’t think quite what to do, I’m not a big personality, didn’t feel I could change the world in any way yet I did have a vague feeling of wanting to live my life to the full and celebrate my good health instead of just taking it for granted.
At this time I happened to notice a small insert in our local paper about a group of runners who were currently in training for a half marathon. I pondered this for a couple of weeks, wondering if I could do something like that. In my ignorance I actually thought a half marathon was a fun run – maybe 2 or 3 miles. I thought, maybe I could do that, do a bit of training and maybe run for a mile or two.
I finally confided in my 21 year old daughter that I was just thinking about trying it. Her reaction led me to my first step towards running. She was ecstatic and immediately proud of me for even thinking about it! I felt good and decided to call the number for The Running Inn. It took a couple of days more to pluck up my courage but eventually called. Disaster – it rang and rang and went on to the answer phone. I simply lost my courage and hung up thinking that it was fate that nobody answered and I would just forget the whole silly idea. Five minutes later my phone rang and I answered to Mike Ovens voice saying he’d just had a missed call and he was the sports trainer at The Running Inn. I was completely unprepared and sort of spluttered and murmured that I was just thinking, just wondering, not at all sure etc etc. He enthusiastically told me that was how most people started. He urged me to come along, reassured me that I would not be the only one who had never run before, that his group consisted of all ages, all abilities. I remember him saying that lasting friendships are made along the way. Then he confirmed that he and his wife Fiona would look forward to seeing me later that week.
That was it then; I started telling family and friends so that I couldn’t back out without losing face. That mid-November Wednesday night was dark, windy and wet. I wondered if people still bothered in bad weather. I also wondered what to wear, eventually plumping for some old jogging bottoms reserved for decorating and an old pair of trainers from 5 years previously that had been bought for dog walking. On the allotted night, my husband who had been quite bemused by this plan of mine suddenly announced he would come too. (There’s another story in there folks!).
We were indeed given a warm welcome by the assembled group who all seemed to be chatting as though the conversation itself were the reason for meeting up. That first session was hills! 8 X the hill at the Lifeboat place on the seafront. The thing was, we had to jog there first. That jog was the most energetic thing I had done in years, and as we ran with Fiona and Mike chatting to us I was embarrassed that I could barely mutter a word because I was so puffed out. Mike told us our stamina levels would quickly improve if we kept at it. We managed 6 hills that night and each time I wanted to stop and give up, either Mike or Fiona would find just the right little words of encouragement to keep me going.
We went home, wet, tired and thoroughly elated. We were hooked. Going back the next week already felt so much less scary, familiar faces welcomed us, questioned us on how much we ached the next day, told us their own stories of when and why they had started. We joined in the frenetic conversations that I now know are an integral part of the speed sessions. Chat chat chat as much as you can before you start the task because my gosh you won’t be able to chat once you get going!
Friends and family quizzed me on my progress. Stared disbelieving when I announced that I had run for a whole mile without stopping. Mobile numbers got swapped amongst the group and I became included on invitations to meet up at weekends for social runs along the prom. Mike and Fiona enabled me to believe that I was capable of running a half marathon and informed me that it was 13 miles not 3!
Wednesday nights became a highlight of my week. I didn’t want to miss it for any reason, Mike was right – friendships had been made.
I got the trainers, got the tights, plucked up the courage to venture out my gate and run up the road in them feeling extremely under dressed and praying that none of my neighbours were looking at my rear end! In fact, most of my neighbours were extremely impressed and showed a real interest in my training. By the time that first half-marathon came around anyone and everyone who knew me had heard nothing but running from me and were really gunning for me on the day.
Well, that first event was really really hard. The nerves, the adrenaline, the aches and pains, exhaustion, fear of failure. Fiona had given me a guideline of what time to run each mile in and I meticulously used my stop watch to make sure I was on target. As I finally saw the finish line and heard the screams of encouragement coming from my daughter, my sisters and my friends I thought of my absent school friend and hoped that she would be proud of me for getting out there and pushing through it.
Since that first medal won, I gradually consolidated everything I had learnt, and became more and more interested in running. I started attending Mike’s popular circuit sessions, bought myself a Garmin watch that measures my distance and times and added to my wardrobe of running wear to such an extent that I’ve actually got more running clothes now than ordinary clothes! I’ve got a drawer full of medals and certificates, a mobile phone filled with numbers of new friends and a level of fitness that I could have never imagined.
Yesterday, I ran my longest distance ever in preparation for the upcoming Beachy Head Marathon. Just over 18 miles, in a wind so fierce that it nearly knocked me off my feet. Three of us struggled on and just kept going. At ten miles I was nearly weeping with exhaustion, at 15 miles I wanted to stop and call a taxi to get me home, at 17 miles I wanted to give up running for ever. Finally I reached the car with 18.7 miles recorded on my Garmin, a huge smile on my face and a sense of achievement quite unlike any other.
If you have ever thought about running, I would urge you, to get out and try it. There truly is nothing quite like it.