It has been a while since I last wrote on this blog. Well, I ran the Roding Valley Half Marathon on 3rd March and I must say it was one of the least enjoyable things I have done for some considerable time. It was a lonely experience and not helped by the hills. I don’t do hills. I grew up mostly in the Fens where the land was reclaimed from the sea and is really flat. Finding a slope steep enough to practice a hill start when I learned to drive there was a real challenge. There was usually a queue of cars occupied by learner drivers and their teachers all waiting to use this sacred ‘hill’. The fact there would be a lot of the blighters in Roding Valley should have been apparent from the name of the place. Alas I was too slow to realise the obvious until I had signed up. Why oh why did I not sign up for the Silverstone Half Marathon, on the same day but DEAD FLAT as it was a race on the F1 circuit. It was a decision I came to regret more and more, with every incline and every screaming leg muscle and tendon.
The good news is that I finished. And in a time under the hallowed two hours, which I understand is every amateur runner’s rookie aim. The only good part of the race was crossing the finish line. Oh and eating the Mars bar that was in the goodie bag. I didn’t finish as fast as I did in Reading in 2010 but I was younger and fitter then and the only hill I remember was very much in my favour. I made one friend on the way round. A woman who I overtook and who subsequently overtook me. That happened a few times and we shouted encouragement to each other. The people who came to watch were great too. Yelling at us when we were flagging and providing a much needed boost. I must have looked odd on the tube home between Woodford and Bethnal Green. Red-faced and salty in my dishevelled running gear with a medal around my neck. It was something that had to be done but somehow my heart just wasn’t in it. It reminded me that after I ran in Reading in March 2010, it was to be almost 2 years before I donned my trainers again. This time I just didn’t have that choice. Onwards and, well, onwards it must be.
I carried on training after a few days off. My legs took that long to recover. On the Saturday after Roding I was on the treadmill but not really going for it. Something happened in my left ankle at around the ten-mile mark. It wasn’t too bad but it felt uncomfortable. Like a fool I carried on until I had run another three miles. I limped home and it quickly became clear that whatever I had done, it wasn’t good! I took things easy, went on the bike at the gym the following Tuesday had a busy week but refrained from running. I couldn’t even walk properly and so running was out of the question. It wasn’t improving. I made a concerted effort to rest with ice (I find it amazing how many times you can re-freeze frozen peas to great effect),on my foot up on a cushion. I looked online and decided it must be my Achilles. I booked myself in to see a sports injury specialist. Had a fierce calf massage as I was apparently really stiff (I am possibly the most inflexible person that ever tried to run further than for the bus). The good news was, my Achilles was fine. She couldn’t really explain the swelling but suggested exercises and told me not to train until I could walk without pain. And only run when I could cross-train, swim, cycle without pain. This was NOT what I wanted to hear!
One thing I did learn was that to run a marathon in under four hours (yes that had really been my goal) you would really need to train for it for at least one year. A whole twelve months! Slight problem there then. Given the short notice I had, I had only started my training schedule on 14th January. I only had fourteen WEEKS to get myself into a state where I could run 26 odd miles without dying. Since that conversation, the goalposts have shifted. Right now, I just want to finish.
It has been very frustrating to take things easy, not to run at all, not to train, not to be able to control my progress, not to improve, not to tick off those long runs I need to get under my belt. I have felt pretty low (and bored!) over the last couple of weeks but it has also been a reality check. And it has given me the opportunity to let go of my training diet and my abstinence from alcohol. My body has screamed out its approval. My blisters have gone, sores that had taken root have disappeared. I haven’t woken up stiff and I haven’t been tired most of the time. The drawback of training to run a marathon is that it is all-consuming. It is totally exhausting and it is not at all good for your body. I think my numbskulls had a meeting and decided to create an injury to have some time out.
What this has made me think about too is how people say crossing the finish line is all about “mind over matter”. Some claim that finishing a marathon is 90% down to what’s going on in your head and a mere 10% connected to your physical ability. I have considered what mantras I should adopt when things get rough, when I want to stop and have had enough. What should I tell myself? How to motivate myself? Well, it came pretty easily to me. Why am I doing this? Why am I damaging my body and soul? Why don’t I just give up now? The answer is simple: think of Claire House. The young people who use it, who rely on their facilities. Their families who manage to carry on in desperate circumstances. The money I raise, EVERY penny thanks to Paul Couchman and Premier, is going directly there. Who am I to moan and groan about tiring of running. What are a few hours of pain and a difficult race? Compared to the challenges faced every waking hour of every day for goodness how long, this is an absolute breeze, a walk in the park, whatever other metaphor you like.
Whatever happens, I’ll be alright. If only the same could be said for those to whom the money I am raising is going.
I am down. But not out. Not by a long shot.
Thanks For Reading
Sarah xx