Forrest Gump begins again
I am running tomorrow in a competitive race. I have just looked at my running history and note with horror, two points. The first is that my last competitive race was a 10 miler from Martigues to Caro, located in the south of France, in July 2008. I remember from memory it starting at 5 ish and being somewhere near 60 degrees in temperature (or so it felt while running), it may not, technically speaking, been this high. And secondly being in France and living in England, it was a long way to go to run a race! (though we have reasons to be there) I cannot say that I decided to travel 1000miles to run in a small provincial race in the south of France.
So it is almost two years since I donned the rather attractive Green/red/white striped running jersey as seen here when I was striding home in the Nottingham Full Marathon. If I could offer any advice, titled; 'Marathons you really don't want to run because they are overpriced and the course is pure garbage' the answer to this would, coincidently be, Nottingham Marathon.
Just to clarify the fact that although it looks deserted, this doesn't mean I was last. The spectators were on the other side of the course. This was from 2007 in September, when I was still a single man, though engaged at the time. I shall ignore all jokes starting, 'You obviously didn't run fast enough......'.
Like the man who falls from the bicycle I am about to get back on that bicycle, except it's not really a bicycle, it's my feet, which technically I haven't fallen off so am not in a position to get back onto. So apart from a poor metaphor I am beginning to run again. It has been a combination of many things, I think, life perhaps in general and changes in curcumstances, arguably the biggest factor has been a missing 'desire' to run. I am hoping that the last 3 months of training has rekindled this, but it's early days yet. I have though been enjoying my running of late, noticeably being able to run further and faster is always good for me. I like to see and feel visible improvement, but I also need to see it quickly to push on further.
Tomorrow may well then be an adventure from the perspective of feeling whether my heart still pumps adrenaline at the start line like it used to do. I still, vaguely remember feeling as though my legs were burning with electricity when I lined up at the start of the 2006 Snowdonia Marathon, my first and toughest marathon, and the emotion of wanting to both laugh and cry having finished the toughest marathon, but most beautiful, in under 4 hours, and not being able to do either except sit under a tree and smile like a village idiot.
Also the distance is a new one, a kilomathon, first ever to be run in the UK, 26.2km, swapping miles for Kilometres, making it 16miles long, which at 3 miles longer than a half marathon is not to be sniffed at, but not long enough to hit the 'wall' at around 20 miles. All in all, a new and exciting day tomorrow. I shall also be watched by my daughter for the first time who will no doubt recognise the philosophical importance of tomorrow, or will in fact end up chewing on her hands and jabbering to herself, like normal. Hey Ho.
So it is almost two years since I donned the rather attractive Green/red/white striped running jersey as seen here when I was striding home in the Nottingham Full Marathon. If I could offer any advice, titled; 'Marathons you really don't want to run because they are overpriced and the course is pure garbage' the answer to this would, coincidently be, Nottingham Marathon.
Just to clarify the fact that although it looks deserted, this doesn't mean I was last. The spectators were on the other side of the course. This was from 2007 in September, when I was still a single man, though engaged at the time. I shall ignore all jokes starting, 'You obviously didn't run fast enough......'.
Like the man who falls from the bicycle I am about to get back on that bicycle, except it's not really a bicycle, it's my feet, which technically I haven't fallen off so am not in a position to get back onto. So apart from a poor metaphor I am beginning to run again. It has been a combination of many things, I think, life perhaps in general and changes in curcumstances, arguably the biggest factor has been a missing 'desire' to run. I am hoping that the last 3 months of training has rekindled this, but it's early days yet. I have though been enjoying my running of late, noticeably being able to run further and faster is always good for me. I like to see and feel visible improvement, but I also need to see it quickly to push on further.
Tomorrow may well then be an adventure from the perspective of feeling whether my heart still pumps adrenaline at the start line like it used to do. I still, vaguely remember feeling as though my legs were burning with electricity when I lined up at the start of the 2006 Snowdonia Marathon, my first and toughest marathon, and the emotion of wanting to both laugh and cry having finished the toughest marathon, but most beautiful, in under 4 hours, and not being able to do either except sit under a tree and smile like a village idiot.
Also the distance is a new one, a kilomathon, first ever to be run in the UK, 26.2km, swapping miles for Kilometres, making it 16miles long, which at 3 miles longer than a half marathon is not to be sniffed at, but not long enough to hit the 'wall' at around 20 miles. All in all, a new and exciting day tomorrow. I shall also be watched by my daughter for the first time who will no doubt recognise the philosophical importance of tomorrow, or will in fact end up chewing on her hands and jabbering to herself, like normal. Hey Ho.
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