If only I had listened to Dolly Parton I might have kept my wits about me and not fallen back into an old romance with the cruel and relentless partner that isThe Marathon. But here he comes again …and here I go. I only have myself to blame.
After pledging that you would never see me date a long distance event again, when my mother died I found myself musing out loud that it would be ‘nice’ to run the Brighton Marathon in her memory. This was a ridiculous thought – probably fuelled by wine – because mum was not a runner (saving her purple tracksuit for pilates) and although I grew up on the South Coast, the only jogging we did together was through the streets of Brighton in a slow retail lope on account of the many clothes bags we would be carrying. Back then retail therapy was our exercise of choice.
Knowing my stubbornness about relationships, no-one dared to talk me out of this Brighton Marathon plan and before I know it I am being offered a full support crew of family and friends on Marathon Day (6th April if you want to join us). I am flattered until I find out that my fan zone has made a breakfast booking in a bougie Brighton cafe and clearly think they will have plenty of time to down a full English while I push on along the sea front. I will take it as a compliment that they have every faith that I can surf the crowds without them for a while; they also pledge to be at the finish line and I relish that certainty and hope they will save me a doggie bag.
I was younger and faster when I last run a marathon and in the intervening years I became acquainted with ultra running – a friendly long distance walk with frequent cake and crisp stops in village halls along the way. It has been a much more forgiving relationship, in fact, the perfect date. No cut off times, start waves or Ralgex; just a great day out in the countryside with lovely people. Although a shorter distance, a road marathon is a much more demanding partner and there is more whine than dine.
I print off a training schedule. Hal Higdon has been a true and faithful partner to me over the years and once again his master plan adorns my fridge door, reminding me to keep chipping away – he is probably referring to miles rather than chunks of Dairy Milk, but a plan is a plan.
As my runs increase in length, I am reminded how relentless winter training is. It is true that in theory anyone can run this distance but in reality not everyone does. Believe me this does not stop people telling you – usually while they add ketchup to their chips – that, ‘anyone can run a marathon’. I tell them that you also need to be pretty bloody minded to keep investing in this type of relationship. I may not be a runner but I am bloody minded. I have this super power.
The runs take longer and longer to complete so I am forced to set out with a head torch if I want to have anything left of the weekend. Himself is very supportive. Although he tells me that it is too icy to accompany me on his bike, he buys me my first camel pack and happily straps me into it at the crack of sparrow before disappearing back to bed. He is also always there with a strong coffee on my return so hydration must be his ‘thing’.
My running husband is also training for a marathon (Manchester) and occasionally we manage to synch diaries and locations to get/encourage each other through the longer training runs. Our approach is very different. He is years younger, runs much faster and is also testing out a theory that you do not need to eat until mile 17. I am older, run slowly and jog at the speed of snack. On our last run I sense his frustration each time I need to defrost my hands in order to unwrap another protein bar. Personally I think his training schedule is making him hangry, but then he hasn’t got Hal pinned to his fridge door.
Admittedly I had forgotten how tired and grumpy marathon training makes you. Himself is far too gallant to pass comment on my rungry demeanour and he wisely fails to mention my gargantuan appetite and new love of first, second and third breakfast. He is such a brilliant supporter that his credit rating is already ridiculously high for the summer months; I will inevitably have to return the compliment when he brings his cycle collective out of hibernation and enters some ridiculous endurance event for tyres.
If someone is training for a marathon they will tell you at every opportunity, maybe even write a blog about it. They will bore you to tears with their ‘running hacks’ and then refuse to attend any social gathering because they will ‘need to rest their legs’. I feel it my duty to tell colleagues at work why I am now allergic to a kitten heel, why my hair is always wet and why I need to take supplements for my increasingly arthritic left hip (self-diagnosed for there is no time to book a medical appointment). I take the wins and find that I rarely need to queue for the kettle in the office kitchen for people seem to vacant the space whenever I limp in that direction.
Thankfully one of my running partners clocks that I am becoming lack lustre with my training schedule and that a ‘Why’ is needed to revive my relationship with Old Man Marathon. We agree that I should run for ‘A Life for a Cure’, the charity set up in the memory of her son Ryan who died suddenly in 2010 from Meningitis B.
Ryan was a young man who just ‘got it’ and who is no doubt grinning broadly at the legacy he keeps building – and my current pain. You can read about the adventures Ryan’s capacious young life has already ignited at: ryanbresnahan.org and in reading you will realise that he powers the audacious belief that we can all achieve so much more than we believe possible – and build some amazing memories in the process. Ryan and his family have the knack of crafting and supporting adventures, hitting seemingly impossible fund-raising goals to increase awareness about meningitis. If they can do all this without personal profit while holding down a day job, then this grumpy chops can run 26.2 miles again. I am in this relationship for the long haul.
I am only human though, and my ‘Why’ would become even stronger if you could find a few bob to sponsor me. I may be bloody minded but everyone needs encouragement; this charity doesn’t fund itself:
As Old Man Marathon and myself limp off to the start line again, in Dolly’s words he is, ‘messing up my mind and filling up my senses’, however, I have had plenty of thinking time over these long training runs, and as I can now bore for England on this subject; I leave you with my late life relationship/marathon advice:
- It helps to reword, ‘I have to run,’ to, ‘I get to run’. I think this may apply equally to work, cleaning and tax returns but I have been far too busy running lately to put it to the test.
- Marathon running is not good luck. Please do not wish me, ‘good luck’ on race day; my training is not up to chance – ask Hal. I would prefer you to say, ‘Go well’ and stock up on jelly babies.
- A support crew is everything. I may not believe that I am a long distance runner, but it really helps that my band of brothers do. Even if my crew are in a warm cafe as I embrace a bracing promenade run, their encouragement will be ringing in my ears. I ‘get to‘ wear a ‘Life for a Cure’ T -shirt and no-one gets to doubt that they are a finisher with this logo on your back.
- The Nike slogan, ‘Just do it!’ works if you put the emphasis on ‘just‘ i.e. ‘just get over yourself, just get out of bed, just start’.
- I am a late convertor, but Strava love is a wonderful thing. I am becoming addicted to the kudos. Being crowned the queen of ‘Bollard to Bollard’ last week was an accolade my younger self could have only have dreamed about. Ryan will approve.
This time round I think that it is the language and not the specific brand of trainers that get a person (‘anyone’) around a marathon course – although if you don’t mind I will keep bloody mindedness and a stash of jelly babies on standby just in case.
Marathon here you come again, and here I go. I remain smitten. It just remains for me to make enquiries about my mother’s vintage purple tracksuit. My ‘A Life for a Cure’ running vest would coordinate rather nicely with her Purple Goddess ensemble and I sense both mum and Ryan would approve of this look.
The Dragonfly Jar 