It’s all about the medal

In my last blog I talked about my journey through back surgery, learning to live with a reluctant leg, running the Swansea Half Marathon and signing up for the Dublin one.

Well, training for the Dublin Half was not easy. My running partner and I did not manage to run together as often as we would have liked, and it was so much harder to stay motivated when it was just me and the leg. Let’s face it, the leg will pick any excuse to not run – it’s too hot, too cold, too sunny, too wet, too early, too late. And I recognise that I am not always the best at hushing that little negative voice.

As race day approached, all looked well. Accommodation was booked, flights were on time and I was as fit as I was ever going to be. Then a setback occurred.  My running partner had to pull out because of injury. I realised that this was the first Half that I would be doing on my own and suddenly it became even more daunting. That in itself was strange, as we don’t always run the whole route together anyway. But there is something about that sense of being in it together that I knew I would miss.

Again, doubts set in. It would have been so easy to say, ‘I can’t do it on my own’. I could have said that I hadn’t trained enough, or just that I was pulling out. But I had set myself this goal and my inner coach was saying, ‘Go on, you can do it’. And my running partner and husband were coming to Dublin to support me. I couldn’t let them down.

And so, despite the leg niggling and grumbling and my own fears that I might not get round the course, we were still on track for the start line at least.

And what a day it was! A little chilly, but it soon warmed up and was decidedly hot by the time I finished – and yes, I did finish. It definitely challenged my resolve at times. I had forgotten that there are actually hills in Phoenix Park and long stretches where there were no supporters cheering us on. And I wasn’t up there with the sub-two hours gang but there are advantages to being in the slow lane. I met some great people, shared running stories, jelly babies and encouragement.

And as for that finish line. There was truly no more welcome a sight as that line and my own personal fan club. The medal helped. As a fellow runner said, ‘It’s all about the medal’. But of course it’s more than that. For me it was about setting that goal and the huge sense of achievement when I crossed the line. I may not be the fastest runner in the world and I’m not that bothered about a personal best. And there were times on that course when I had to coach myself to keep going but in the end I did it. I was a finisher. And no one can take that away from me.

And so on to a new goal. I seem to have talked myself into doing the Yeovil Half next March. So much for saying no to winter training! And I quite fancy doing a bit of trail running. Will the madness ever cease? I do hope not. But perhaps I’ll wait a while before I break the news to the leg.