Coming last in my first 10km – and getting my period
I never considered myself a runner. The very idea was laughable. I always came last during cross country at school and since then running never featured in my mindset - until about two months ago.
H was seeing a chiropractor for an arm injury caused by guitar-playing, and then I injured myself in the garden when I foolishly lifted a heavy plant pot full of soil. I thought I'd given myself a hernia so I figured I'd see the chiropractor too.
This coincided with some other things. I'd been wanting to do more for animals but didn't know what. Reading about a local woman who raises money for dogs in Afghanistan by skydiving I knew I could never skydive, but it seemed to trigger a train of thought in me.
I also saw an Animal Aid video about the abuse of animals in slaughterhouses. This made me angry and emotional beyond words, and only more determined to try and do something.
I don't know why running occurred to me, but it did. Everyone seems to be doing it; certainly, there are many runners round here, of all ages and sizes. Suddenly it seemed something I could consider, although I was fearful of the effects it might have on my joints. I value my knees and don't want to ruin them.
Who better to ask for advice than a chiropractor, someone who knows about bones, joints, nerves and muscles? And this one, it turns out, is also an experienced runner who's done just about every 10km, half marathon and full marathon in the region many times over, and many more beyond.
He assured me that with a good pair of trainers and a bit of training that I'd be good to go for the local 10k coming up in a couple of months, and encouraged me to sign up. I assured myself that a good sports bra wouldn't go amiss either, and I'm glad I splashed out on a Sweaty Betty ultra run bra - turns out that price does equate with quality in this case.
Other than knowing that though, I was clueless and naïve – which is perhaps just as well as I may not have started running otherwise. I believed my chiropractor's breezy optimism. He seemed to have great faith in my ability despite having no evidence of it. I was a complete beginner training on my own.
Never having run before – up and down the stairs and for the bus was the extent of it – I was self-conscious and a bit embarrassed at first, so decided to head out early in the mornings – just after 6.30 after feeding Chenny (our cat), when hardly anyone was about.
I thought it would be hard at that time of day but didn't know how motivated I was. All I had to do was think of that Animal Aid footage and it somehow propelled me out of bed. Once I'd got my gear on I was out of the house so fast I could scarcely believe it myself. However horrible going out to run that early might feel to me, it was nothing compared with what those animals have to endure.
Soon I didn't care what I looked like. With my hair bundled up under a cap and no make-up I ran as much as I could – which was every other day, up and down the long flat pavements of the quiet residential area near here, unaware of how I should pace myself and the speeds and times I should be doing. It was just after beginning this that I saw on the news that 92 year-old Harriet Thompson had run and completed the San Diego marathon. For no particular reason I was also reminded of when Eddie Izzard ran 43 marathons in 51 days. I was spurred on even more.
Not that I was aspiring to his level. After a few times walking for a minute and running for the next I found I just wanted to carry on running, and a 40-minute run, although at a fairly slow pace, felt good to me. I was chuffed when I got to the stage where I didn't have to stop or walk. It gave me a strong sense of achievement and I started to look forward to my runs, and to feel a lot better for them.
The only thing that worried me was my period. When my first one came during training it was hard – my period is capable of sabotaging anything. I adjusted my running days and didn't go out when feeling my worst. Checking my dates for the next one, I saw that it was due either the day before or the day of the 10k race, although I hoped beyond hope that it would be late.
It wasn't. Sure enough, it arrived the night before (my dates don't lie – yet. My period is still so regular I can set my watch by it). Having bled a lot that night, I felt ghastly in the morning and wasn't sure I was up to running. I was glad that I'd sworn H to privacy and had only told a couple of non-mutual friends what I'd been up to, in case I didn't do the 10km after all.
But again, all I had to do was think about that Animal Aid film. Although I was feeling shit I couldn't back out. With my gear on (baggier running trousers, not the tight-fitting Lycra shorts I normally wore) I felt a bit better, and hoped that the atmosphere at race HQ would work its magic. Having joked with H that the snails I saw on the pavement each morning seemed to run faster than me I was used to the idea of coming last. In the car on the way there we remarked that the time it was going to take me to complete the course this year might mean I'll end up winning next year's 10km - just.
Arriving at the venue, I felt like I was entering another world – a parallel one, like something out of Star Trek when they land on another planet. I felt alien, but happy to be there. Everyone looked like they were having so much fun and there was a real buzz about the place. I almost believed my chiropractor's cheery reassurance when I told him that most of the kids in the short fun run at the beginning – many of them tiny – ran faster than me.
"You'll be fine!" said he. For the thousandth time.
I ran the course knowing nothing about the route or race strategy, the bottle neck at the beginning when all the runners – close to 600 – squeezed through a narrow lane from the playing field on to the main route through some heartbreakingly beautiful countryside and a forest. This was a mistake as it pushed me right to the back.
Although at least I wasn't running alone. Something else I didn't know: the sweepers that bring up the rear, close gates and alert the marshals and drinks-givers that they can pack up, provide enormous support. I anticipated running by myself but these guys – all of them very accomplished and highly-experienced runners – stuck with me. If I hadn't been running with them I'm not sure I'd have run as fast as I did, and I can't thank them enough.
As the ks rolled by though I couldn't help but question my folly. Why hadn't I gone for a 5km instead? There were one or two inclines that were agony – and at those hardest times it was the sweepers and the Animal Aid footage that kept me moving, managing to do what I set out to do, which was to stay in my head zone (a sort of meditative place) and keep going without stopping or walking. The final k was torture, and if I'd been alone I'd have been sobbing, I'm sure.
The circular route took us back to the playing field. As I turned the corner onto it, I had no idea there'd be so many people still there. I thought they'd have all gone, but the original crowd had been swelled by the runners, all of whom had finished and were now watching the end of the race. H was there too with his camera, and took plenty of photos. Oh, the photos... It's hard to look photogenic when you're running, dripping with sweat and bloated with period. I don't think I look that fat in real life, and funnily enough, getting fit and losing weight didn't feature at all in my decision to start running - it was purely about aiming to do something that might eventually raise money for animals.
That's not to say that I wouldn't welcome losing weight as a happy side-effect to go along with the others. Like learning that it's not so bad to come last at something. It's only societal attitudes that make it seem so. Having achieved what I set out to do, which was to run without stopping or walking, I always knew the race was only ever with myself. As far as I was concerned, not doing it was not an option and I was a winner just for having a go. When I was told I was one of the fastest people who'd ever come last, I was thrilled.
In addition to discovering that it helps to have an idea of the route that's being run, and that I definitely need to join a local running group in order to up my game, the main thing I've learnt is that if you have a purpose and know why you're doing something, motivation comes much more easily and anything is possible. Period or no period.
My chiropractor is relentless in his encouragement: "If you're up for a challenge there's a duathlon in October – running and cycling..." Yet while I intend to keep running, eventually building up to a half marathon in order to raise money for animal charities, I think I'll just stick to 5 and 10 kms for now.
H was seeing a chiropractor for an arm injury caused by guitar-playing, and then I injured myself in the garden when I foolishly lifted a heavy plant pot full of soil. I thought I'd given myself a hernia so I figured I'd see the chiropractor too.
This coincided with some other things. I'd been wanting to do more for animals but didn't know what. Reading about a local woman who raises money for dogs in Afghanistan by skydiving I knew I could never skydive, but it seemed to trigger a train of thought in me.
I also saw an Animal Aid video about the abuse of animals in slaughterhouses. This made me angry and emotional beyond words, and only more determined to try and do something.
I don't know why running occurred to me, but it did. Everyone seems to be doing it; certainly, there are many runners round here, of all ages and sizes. Suddenly it seemed something I could consider, although I was fearful of the effects it might have on my joints. I value my knees and don't want to ruin them.
Who better to ask for advice than a chiropractor, someone who knows about bones, joints, nerves and muscles? And this one, it turns out, is also an experienced runner who's done just about every 10km, half marathon and full marathon in the region many times over, and many more beyond.
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| Behold my lovely Asics |
Other than knowing that though, I was clueless and naïve – which is perhaps just as well as I may not have started running otherwise. I believed my chiropractor's breezy optimism. He seemed to have great faith in my ability despite having no evidence of it. I was a complete beginner training on my own.
Never having run before – up and down the stairs and for the bus was the extent of it – I was self-conscious and a bit embarrassed at first, so decided to head out early in the mornings – just after 6.30 after feeding Chenny (our cat), when hardly anyone was about.
I thought it would be hard at that time of day but didn't know how motivated I was. All I had to do was think of that Animal Aid footage and it somehow propelled me out of bed. Once I'd got my gear on I was out of the house so fast I could scarcely believe it myself. However horrible going out to run that early might feel to me, it was nothing compared with what those animals have to endure.
Soon I didn't care what I looked like. With my hair bundled up under a cap and no make-up I ran as much as I could – which was every other day, up and down the long flat pavements of the quiet residential area near here, unaware of how I should pace myself and the speeds and times I should be doing. It was just after beginning this that I saw on the news that 92 year-old Harriet Thompson had run and completed the San Diego marathon. For no particular reason I was also reminded of when Eddie Izzard ran 43 marathons in 51 days. I was spurred on even more.
Not that I was aspiring to his level. After a few times walking for a minute and running for the next I found I just wanted to carry on running, and a 40-minute run, although at a fairly slow pace, felt good to me. I was chuffed when I got to the stage where I didn't have to stop or walk. It gave me a strong sense of achievement and I started to look forward to my runs, and to feel a lot better for them.
The only thing that worried me was my period. When my first one came during training it was hard – my period is capable of sabotaging anything. I adjusted my running days and didn't go out when feeling my worst. Checking my dates for the next one, I saw that it was due either the day before or the day of the 10k race, although I hoped beyond hope that it would be late.
It wasn't. Sure enough, it arrived the night before (my dates don't lie – yet. My period is still so regular I can set my watch by it). Having bled a lot that night, I felt ghastly in the morning and wasn't sure I was up to running. I was glad that I'd sworn H to privacy and had only told a couple of non-mutual friends what I'd been up to, in case I didn't do the 10km after all.
But again, all I had to do was think about that Animal Aid film. Although I was feeling shit I couldn't back out. With my gear on (baggier running trousers, not the tight-fitting Lycra shorts I normally wore) I felt a bit better, and hoped that the atmosphere at race HQ would work its magic. Having joked with H that the snails I saw on the pavement each morning seemed to run faster than me I was used to the idea of coming last. In the car on the way there we remarked that the time it was going to take me to complete the course this year might mean I'll end up winning next year's 10km - just.
Arriving at the venue, I felt like I was entering another world – a parallel one, like something out of Star Trek when they land on another planet. I felt alien, but happy to be there. Everyone looked like they were having so much fun and there was a real buzz about the place. I almost believed my chiropractor's cheery reassurance when I told him that most of the kids in the short fun run at the beginning – many of them tiny – ran faster than me.
"You'll be fine!" said he. For the thousandth time.
I ran the course knowing nothing about the route or race strategy, the bottle neck at the beginning when all the runners – close to 600 – squeezed through a narrow lane from the playing field on to the main route through some heartbreakingly beautiful countryside and a forest. This was a mistake as it pushed me right to the back.
Although at least I wasn't running alone. Something else I didn't know: the sweepers that bring up the rear, close gates and alert the marshals and drinks-givers that they can pack up, provide enormous support. I anticipated running by myself but these guys – all of them very accomplished and highly-experienced runners – stuck with me. If I hadn't been running with them I'm not sure I'd have run as fast as I did, and I can't thank them enough.
As the ks rolled by though I couldn't help but question my folly. Why hadn't I gone for a 5km instead? There were one or two inclines that were agony – and at those hardest times it was the sweepers and the Animal Aid footage that kept me moving, managing to do what I set out to do, which was to stay in my head zone (a sort of meditative place) and keep going without stopping or walking. The final k was torture, and if I'd been alone I'd have been sobbing, I'm sure.
The circular route took us back to the playing field. As I turned the corner onto it, I had no idea there'd be so many people still there. I thought they'd have all gone, but the original crowd had been swelled by the runners, all of whom had finished and were now watching the end of the race. H was there too with his camera, and took plenty of photos. Oh, the photos... It's hard to look photogenic when you're running, dripping with sweat and bloated with period. I don't think I look that fat in real life, and funnily enough, getting fit and losing weight didn't feature at all in my decision to start running - it was purely about aiming to do something that might eventually raise money for animals.
That's not to say that I wouldn't welcome losing weight as a happy side-effect to go along with the others. Like learning that it's not so bad to come last at something. It's only societal attitudes that make it seem so. Having achieved what I set out to do, which was to run without stopping or walking, I always knew the race was only ever with myself. As far as I was concerned, not doing it was not an option and I was a winner just for having a go. When I was told I was one of the fastest people who'd ever come last, I was thrilled.
In addition to discovering that it helps to have an idea of the route that's being run, and that I definitely need to join a local running group in order to up my game, the main thing I've learnt is that if you have a purpose and know why you're doing something, motivation comes much more easily and anything is possible. Period or no period.
My chiropractor is relentless in his encouragement: "If you're up for a challenge there's a duathlon in October – running and cycling..." Yet while I intend to keep running, eventually building up to a half marathon in order to raise money for animal charities, I think I'll just stick to 5 and 10 kms for now.
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