I joined a running club a couple of months ago (Roundhay Runners). As much to meet people and to have something to do as for the running. I'd found myself living in a new place, and with a lot of time on my hands, and I like running so it seemed an obvious thing to do.
I've been running for about 8 years. Mostly Parkrun, and mostly the same type of running. Running as fast as I can for between 25 minutes and an hour. No real variety. No slow running, no interval training. Just the same all the time. Since I joined the running club things have been different.
A couple of weeks ago I took part in the Leeds Dock Relay. Teams of 3 people, running laps of a 0.9 mile circuit at Leeds Dock, as many laps as you can in an hour. It sounds easy, you only have to run for roughly 20 minutes each, with 40 minutes off. Don't go off too fast, people said! But there's crowds cheering, and you see your team-mate coming round the corner, and they high-5 you, and off you go!
Rather unhelpfully, the first 100 metres actually has a 100 metre track painted on the pavement, and so off you go, and you think 'Hey, look at me, I'm in the Olympics, I'm the King of the World'. And then about 100 metres later, you get to a Tesco on the corner, and you realise that you're nearly dead, but you've still got 1300 metres to go. Luckily, the next 1000 metres or so, no-one can see you. You go round the back of some buildings, and you may as well be on the dark side of the moon, you're in a lonely netherworld purgatory, where your lungs are screaming, and your legs are screaming too, but you can't hear them for your lungs. And then after that you emerge into where people are again, and so you put a brave face on it, and keep running for the crowd. That first lap I did in 6 minutes 30, which is probably the fastest I've run since I was at school. But it's okay, because then you get about 12-13 minutes off, and because it's so fresh in your mind, you think, well I won't be doing that again. Then 13 minutes later, well, there's crowds and cheering, and there's adrenaline, and there's a 100 metre track on the road, so you do exactly the same again. Purgatory, hovering between life and death, I haven't learned a thing! And again, just to prove how little you've learned, you do it all exactly the same again, for a third time. And at the end, you forget about the death, and all you remember is that you had a really great time.
That was two weeks ago. This week I had a different kind of near death experience. In the form of a handicap race. It's a 6km route, made up of 2 3km laps. Everyone submits an estimate in advance of how fast they can run it, and then you set off at intervals, slowest to fastest. I submitted a pretty accurate estimate, since I run this type of distance a lot, some people provided slightly more questionable guesses. A group of 5 set off about 2 minutes before me, who I know can all run faster than me. Well, I'm never catching them I thought. Again, I ran at the limit of myself, which is a state of near death, but instead of the 1000 metres of purgatory down the back of some buildings on my own, I ran this one with the help of others.
You must have heard stories of people who've reported having a near death experience. Where they go down a long tunnel towards a bright light, and at the end of the tunnel there's a beautiful garden, and all their friends are in the garden. And although the garden seems really appealing and full of love, it's not their time yet, as there are still things for them to do, and so they get sent back again.
Well, on Thursday, all along the 3km circuit I ran, there were other members of the club acting as marshalls, maybe one every 300 metres. Making sure I didn't run the wrong way. And they were so positive and encouraging about my running, I felt like I was running towards that beautiful garden Admittedly, I was running down a long painful 300 metre tunnel, but I still felt the warmth and the acceptance. At one point, I could also hear someone shouting my name from across a road, but I couldn't figure out who it was (I still don't know), and while I was looking to the side trying to identify them with my sweaty eyes, I nearly ran into a lamp-post. Maybe that was the equivalent of getting to the post-death garden and finding someone there who you've completely forgotten was ever in your life.
Anyway, if all runs were like this, they would all be easy. If you could set them up in advance with people stationed along the route to encourage you, you could run for ever. By the time I reached my second lap, people were starting to overtake me, but even they were supportive, and they each took time to tell me I was running well. And so, even being overtaken was fun too. And at the end, more encouragement. And then pizza!
I've been wondering a lot lately what it is to have a home. I think feeling accepted somewhere is a start. At times I've felt like a wreck over the last 3 months. And when I'm running I certainly look like one. In recent weeks, various people have taken photos of me while I've been running, and I haven't seen one yet where I don't look to be in pain.
But everyone at the running club has treated me like I belong there. So, even when I am half-killing myself at the limits of my physical ability, and hovering somewhere between life and death, I'm still sort of okay too. It's just that the good parts of running don't always show on the outside.
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