I still remember my first run. Well, not literally my first, but my first ‘recreational run’. Done through choice, with no PE teacher at my back and no train to catch.
Still high on inspiration after being part of the finish team at the London Marathon and experiencing the heroics, guts and glory of the runners, from elite to first timers, my friend Maggie and I had applied for places in the following year’s race through the marshals’ ballot. We’d never done so much as a fun run before but odds were good that we’d get in, so I thought I’d better start practising. Just in case.
I ran a one mile loop around the streets of Wokingham, where I lived with my then boyfriend, now husband. I say ran, but it was more of an asthmatic stagger. Who knew running was so hard?
I got my place. And while it took me two years to make it to the start line, after injury got in the way for the first of many, many times, by that time I was well and truly addicted to running. And running long.
Over the next seven years, I went on to run London a further three more times and Berlin once, with numerous half marathons in between. But my body was slowly breaking down.
Periods between injuries were getting shorter, and training became more and more patchy. After my son was born, running took a back seat for a while. I needed my fix, but I kept the runs short and easy.
When I wanted to get back into training seriously, my body finally said no. I ran two half marathons in a year, but the second was desperate. Although I made it to the finish, in pain, this time it felt different. The damage went deeper. Usually with a few weeks break from training, I’d be OK but this time rest didn’t seem to do anything. I’d wait a few weeks, go out for a short jog, and just end up limping again.
Over time, I managed to get back into some semblance of a training routine, but it was what I’d term ‘survival running’. I needed to keep some form of running going – without it, I just felt lost and out of kilter. So I pared it down to the absolute minimum.
At that point, I knew that my marathon days were over. I wished I’d known at the time – I’d have savoured that last run through London so much more if I’d realised there’d be no more.
So it felt incredibly emotional to stand on the start line of the Edinburgh Marathon this May and prepare for my sixth attempt at 26 and a bit miles.
In the end, it wasn’t one of my best marathons. I came into the race thinking of myself as an experienced marathoner, but after a 12 year break, I was really a rookie again. Basic errors, like relying on the water stations for hydration on an unexpectedly hot day, tripped me up badly. Although I completed the distance, it just left me wanting to do it again. But better.
So in 2014, I’m training for another marathon. This time, I’m going local – the Taunton marathon runs right past the end of my road. Twice. Which will prove to be both a blessing and a curse on the day, I suspect.
But after six (soon to be seven) marathons, I also need a new challenge. I’m dangerous on a bike. And not in a good way. I swim like a cat. Triathlon isn’t really an option. So it has to be an ultra.
I’m starting off with the Bideford Bay 50K, along the beautiful North Devon coastal path, in October. Not too big a step up from a marathon, but scary enough.
I’ve never run further than 26.2 miles, and that only six times, so this is something new. I don’t want to just survive the distance, but to feel strong and enjoy it
I’ll need to keep working on my Chi technique, ironing out the wrinkles and practicing holding my form over longer distances. But I’ll also need to get smarter about nutrition, hydration and rest.
It’s going to be an exciting journey and I’ll be sharing my progress through the blog.
Whether you’re an experienced ultrarunner or facing your first, like me, please do share your suggestions and comments below!