Running is a constant battle between the part of your brain that is telling you to stop and the part of the brain that is urging you to continue. That phrase loomed large for me this weekend.
As I wrote last week, I am struggling to find a bit of confidence in my running these days, and I really cannot seem to rediscover any significant pace. A 10k race then was maybe just what I needed to get things back on track. But this was not any normal 10k event, this was a 10k with an offroad section. And that offroad section was through a field and up a pretty big hill. Less than ideal.
“a bit of a challenge”
I signed up for the Barra 10k, which started and finished in the town of Oldmeldrum in Aberdeenshire, primarily because a friend was doing it, and it was raising money for an excellent charity, Kayleigh’s Wee Stars. I was doing it for the right reasons, but it was going to be a bit of a challenge. That is all fine. I knew what I was getting myself in for – at least I thought I did – so I knew the climb was there. But what a climb it was.
I had had a couple of positive runs during the week with my JogScotland group, so I was feeling a bit better about my running. However, the night before I had a bit of a cough, and on the morning, I did not feel in tip top shape. Before the race started I did a short warm up run, and this was a bit of a warning sign. I did not feel brilliant, but you know, I was there so I was going to race.
As you can probably also tell from the photograph, it was a sunny morning. Ironically, when we had left home it was misty and grey – my ideal kind of running conditions – and I know Scotland in May is definitely not hot when you compare it to other places, but I am not a fan of wam weather running. I just struggle in the heat, so give me a chilly winter/Spring day anytime.
The first mile or so of the race was relatively flat, but then we began to climb. I have done loads of races and runs with climbs in them, and where I live is pretty hilly, so that is not really the issue, but my legs were already feeling heavy when we turned into the field for the climb up to the top of Barra hill. Given the rain we had had during the week, I was wearing trail shoes, but while the ground was uneven – and a bit of dodging cow pats was required – the conditions underfoot were ok. What was more of a problem was the scale of the elevation. Over the course of about a kilometre, it was very steep up. Everyone around me, and including me, was walking. In a 10k race, this is not a normal occurence.
A couple of pipers were playing at the top, so as yout got nearer, the tunes came into earshot as I made my way, as fast as I could, up through the field. By the time I got to the top, which bear in mind was only around the three kilometre mark, I was goosed. My legs, which had felt heavy at the start, were now like two lumps of lead I was attempting to lift into action. I dread to think what my heartrate was at this point, and as for breathing? Anyone who has read my blog before will now how I like to settle into a rhythm and focus into a race. My breathing was all over the place. And I still had the nest part of seven kilometres to go.
Through the field we continued, then down onto a road, and then, we began to go back up! Not for long this time because we had not come that far down, but up we went again. Now back on tarmac, my legs began to feel a bit easier, but I was also now very aware that there was no shade and I was heating up.
“I could not settle into any rhythm”
The course then began to head down, and while I took advantage of this – one great tip I got a few years agon about running downhill is to lean forward and allow your weight and momentum to take advantage of gravity to speed up on these sections – I just could not settle into any kind of rythm. I knew then that this would just be a battle to the end.
It is never a good sign in a race when you begin to look for the distance markers; they never come quick enough. Past the six kilometre marker, I then seemed to be running forever while never seeing another sign. Thankfully, I must have just missed the seven kilomtre marker (if there was one) as the next one I saw was at eight kilometre. Just over a mile to go, still going downhil, this should have been a sign to push on. But I was simply wrestling with myself in my head.
“I wanted to stop so badly”
Every step felt grim. I felt grim. I wanted to stop and walk so badly. I did not want to give up, there was no way I was doing that. But I needed a break. I was having an internal battle as hard as any I have had in a race in a long, long time. I felt hot. I felt uncomfortable. I wanted it to be over. But I still had more distance to go.
I reached the final kilometre, again usually a time to push on, and a small hill. I mean, not even a hill, just a little rise. It felt so hard. So tough. This was ridiculous. This was just a 10k. This is the kind of distance I would regard as a bit of a warm up when doing my really long runs. But I did not stop. I did not give up. I fought off the demons telling me to walk. I faced down the mental impulses which were urging me to give my body a break. I kept going.
As I returned to the playing fields where the race had started and could see the finish line, I was just glad that shortly afterewards it would all be over. I could not even raise a sprint to the line. I was done. But it was done. I had done it. I had finished. Running in a race is about battling with others, it is aboug winning the battle with yourself. In that sense, I had won.
This was my slowest 10km race ever – so you may think that this was hardly the confidence boost I was looking for when it comes to pace. And you are partly correct. It did not feel great in any way, shape or form. But I got through it. And that is the crumb of comfort I am hanging onto after the race.
“mental resilience”
The easy thing to do would have been to give up and stop running. To walk when I wanted to walk in those closing kilometres. But that, for me, would have been worse. That would have had me beating myself up afterwards, questioning why I had been so weak as to do that. (I should also point out here that I am not cricising anyone who walks in races. Race the way you want to.) It was my mental resilience that got me through it, some kind of inner strength (or bloody mindedness depending on your perspective) that drove me on to the finish. So that is the thing to focus on.
And then afterwards I went and enjoyed a really nice lunch with family at a nearby activity centre. Running is supposed to be fun. I may not have had a lot of fun on the course, but as I sat and enjoyed this, I did so knowing that I had achieved what many others could not – to run a 10k race – and for that fact alone, I should be very grateful.
Next steps? Well, really just to plod on. I enjoyed a nice relaxing run with friends the day after the race, and with a half marathon race next on the agenda in around six weeks time, I will be upping my mileage over the coming weeks. I still want to work on my pace, but definitely longer distances are what I want to return to as we head through June.
And that internal battle to continue will once again be faced many more times. It is always worth remembering that, as runners, we do hard things.
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