April Running Stories (and March)

Why am I running 26.2 miles on Sunday?

[Trigger warning –mental health]

It’s been a while since I’ve written here. Somehow, writing in March didn’t happen, and in typical fashion I have been berating myself and feeling I’ve failed. Then I remembered stories about failure are my favourite kind and who wants perfection, anyway? Being human is much more interesting. So here I am, putting fingers to the keyboard. Better a month late than never.

Spring really has sprung here in the UK, and we are all here for it after a long, dreary winter. Running wise, even though warmer weather brings its own challenges (who knew I could sweat that much), I enjoy it so much more. The sunshine uplifts me and all the new spring greenery means alfresco toilet stops are a warmer and more modest affair.

If you’re new here, you may not know I’m training for the London Marathon, which at the time of writing is 2 days away! Last month, we hosted a quiz to fundraise on behalf of Mind, the charity I’m supporting. It was an evening of incredible generosity. Family and friends gathered teams and helped with logistics; local businesses donated raffle prizes, and the pub gave us their function room for free. I found it all a little overwhelming, but it was an important reminder of my why.

Why am I running 26.2 miles on Sunday?

When I tell people I’m training for a marathon, I get a variety of responses. Amazement, shock and bewilderment are the most common, with the occasional bout of envy, which reminds me of how lucky I am to do this. Many people ask me why. What do I get out of the hours of training, fatigue, chafing (you don’t want to know), strange diet and, this week, the most nerves I’ve felt since I sat my finals?

You see, there is always a why. When we embark on anything significant in life, there is always a story behind it that gives it meaning and motivates us to carry on.

So, what’s my story? I thought the answer to this question would be easy. I’ve been running longer distances for a few years, so you would have thought by now I’d know why I do it. Of course, I can rattle off a few answers straightaway–running keeps me healthy, it’s sociable, it gets me outside, it’s fun (most of the time) and it sets a good example for my kids. Most people who do any kind of physical activity would probably agree.

But when I dug a little deeper, I discovered some other, more honest answers.

So, here’s why I run.

Running reminds me I’m strong.

Events over the past two years have shaken my confidence in my capacity and ability, both mentally and physically. For several months last year, I couldn’t run at all - being physically ill was my body’s way of forcing me to rest. So, when I got my marathon place, it was an opportunity to work towards something positive and meaningful.

The further I run, the stronger and more expansive I feel. It teaches me to edge outside my comfort zone and tune into my body. It’s often uncomfortable and even painful, but I am learning to be with the discomfort because I know there will be good things at the other end. When I hit 19 miles at the end of my longest training run a few weeks ago, I thought, I can do anything. I’m strong.

And when I feel physically strong, I feel mentally strong as well. Training and fundraising have been a huge part of recovering my mental and physical strength.

Running is my therapy. *

I know there are physical benefits to running, but for me, the mental health benefits are far greater. Through the highs and the very lows, running has been my faithful companion.

At my lowest point a few years ago, I used to tell myself I was a failure in all areas of my life. Logically, I knew this wasn’t true, but the problem with this repeated narrative is that the more you say it, the more real and believable it becomes.

Running was one of my lifelines. I remember once saying to a running friend, ‘If I’ve failed at everything today, at least I know I can go out for a run and do that well.’

Running has been a great teacher, giving me the space I need to process whatever I’m feeling. It helps me appreciate and love my mind and body–both have their seasons, their ups and downs, their ebbs and flows. Some days I will be raring to go and other days it’s an effort to get through everything I need to do. Running is like this, too. The most important lesson for me is knowing nothing is forever. The often-used phrase, ‘this too shall pass’ is so very true.

These days, the ‘failure narrative’ is rare and if it does creep in, it’s a nudge that my wellbeing needs a bit of attention. The canal path and my trainers are always there whenever I need them.

*But not a substitute for actual therapy. I’d recommend that too.

Running makes me feel alive.

I’ve been struck during this training season how lucky and privileged I am to be running the London Marathon this Sunday. I am not a natural athlete (memories of school cross country at school still haunt me, can you relate?!). I am not a fast or particularly elegant runner. I will not break any records. But I am alive. I am determined. And my body is always surprising me with what it can do.

Running reminds me of how rich and wonderful life is, even when it doesn’t feel that way. Life is amazing and awful and beautiful and ugly and imperfect and wild. Often several times in one day. It’s precious.

Running helps me to remember and be grateful for all these things. It reminds me to take risks and lean into adventure. To stretch and surprise myself. And it reminds me I’m strong.

I read a beautiful piece by Emma Campbell in Women’s Running Magazine this month. Emma and her friend, Dame Deborah James (who you may remember as Bowelbabe) ran and trained for marathons together while both undergoing cancer treatment. Deborah and her family set up the Bowelbabe Fund to raise money for Cancer Research in the weeks before she died in 2022.

Emma is running the London Marathon again this year to raise money for the Bowelbabe Fund, in memory of her friend. Here’s her why:

‘How lucky am I to be here, strong enough to test my body, to dig deep and actually be running a flipping marathon! My why is crystal clear. I’m alive, and so many others are not.’

I guess this sums it up pretty perfectly for me, too. I may not be feeling it when I hit mile 20, but I’ll try to remind myself - this is what it feels like to be alive.

with love,

Claire x