Sometimes it's about more than running

Recently Susie Chan blogged about how it's okay to be okay. Coming from someone who is so very exceptional at what she does it was a relief to know everyone struggles sometimes. And actually we all have doubts. When so much of running and the running community is about time, distance, pace and most of all being the very best albeit your own personal best it was refreshing to be reminded that doesn't always matter. So many of my blogs talk about this issue. So many times I face a crisis of confidence in my running, reminiscent of the crisis I face every day in life to believe in myself. To believe the words others say to me. To be kind to myself. It's very easy to give out praise to others. To support achievements big and small. To help others realise even their smallest goals are important. It's hard to do that for myself.

There are times I think this doesn't really matter, but I've learned that 26.2 miles is pretty unforgiving. My first marathon taught me the slightest chink in your mental armour can cause a complete implosion. Entering Berlin it was clear I wasn't in the best of places, but I managed to have the best of times. Everything they say about Berlin is true - it's fast, it's flat and the atmosphere is amazing. There was a time when I was running early on with Fran that I thought I could put all my bad training behind me and go for that PB.
Perhaps you'll think I failed by making a conscious decision at that point to stick with my plan - not to overdo it. To take my time. Enjoy each moment. Take my selfies and what time I achieved didn't matter. I'll never know if I could have sustained my early pace just because I didn't try. But I didn't fail. I achieved everything I set out to do.

It was hard. Really hard. I've never sent texts whilst running before but I was communicating with Keeley and Jules. I knew if I could get 10k to go I'd be fine. But it was hard work. Marathons are - anyone who tells you they aren't look at very suspiciously. Crossing the finish at Berlin was the most emotional finish I'd had. Relief. Joy. Pride. Such a special place and a special feeling. 

But I can't just rest there. It wasn't enough to achieve in Berlin as back in January I'd entered Beachy Head marathon. One of those "must do" races everyone talks about. Running with Jules, focusing on eating sausage rolls and maximising enjoyment. I wasn't worried at all - this was going to be fun. I never thought about how hard it would be. The weeks between Berlin and Beachy weren't ideal - stress, comfort eating, fears and tears. Putting on more weight i realised I'd be running at a weight I've never run at before, certainly not marathon distance. But that's okay I can do that. My head was starting to clear and mentally I was feeling good for Beachy. Big crowd of us. Keeley coming to support. Sausage rolls. Did I mention they have sausage rolls on route?  

Beachy Head Marathon is everything everyone says it is - brutal, beautiful, great atmosphere, wonderful people, hills that go on forever. Running toward the back, taking our time we had a blast. I met some of the most amazing people I've yet met on a race. Members of the 100 marathon club including Lorraine doing her 137th marathon and she has cancer. A man running his 5th marathon in 5 days for his sons charity. So many people doing BH as their first marathon - including our new friend Jules (another!) who ran with us. Jonathan, Tracey, Ana, Boshers, marshals, Traviss and Rachel - legends amongst us and all sharing the same experience - the steps, the fog, the hills, the wall to climb over - oh and the sausage rolls, hot cross buns and soup at checkpoint 4! 

Then you reach that last 10k - it stretches out in front of you in a way I've never seen 10k before. It didn't look possible, the infamous Seven Sisters, but a simply stunning vista with crystal calm sea. We were still laughing as we started the relentless up and downs of this final stretch. I had 4 hours until the cut off and pointed out I could crawl it in that time - but the chink was there. I may have been joking but as the downhills were becoming more painful than the uphills I knew there was some truth in it. My Jules was still at my side. Some brief exchange about leaving each other but I knew she'd never go. We started and would finish this one together. Thank God as i knew i couldn't do it without her. Each step got harder and harder. I thought I would cry. I've never cried mid run before - if you can call what I was doing running. Reaching Birling Gap felt an eternity - but they had cake. And we were still taking selfies and having fun. I just wasn't sure what kind of fun it was. Finally when a marshal told us the truth - two more uphills then it would be all downhill to the finish I dug in, panic in my heart as to how long this would take me.  But finally stretching out for the downhill and running for the finish. Yes I was actually running! 

Those 6 miles are like nothing I've ever felt before. It was like a microcosm of the challenges life throws at you. Trying to hang on. Using everyone around you for support. Uphill, downhill, laughing, crying, frustration and delirious joy at meeting a coastguard with a mars bar! But I kept going. I wonder if Beachy had been two weeks ago would I have done? We'll never know. But I do know that the way I felt at the end of Beachy swept all other finishes into history. Beachy Head is such an emotional place anyway. A place where people come face to face with demons, challenges, fighting battles that sometimes they win and sadly many times they don't. That day I won my own battle - and once again was reminded that yes it was just a race, but sometimes it's about more than running!