Last weekend something rather big happened. I ran the Cancer Research Winter Run 10k. A lot of people run 10k on the regular and a lot of people ran the 10k for Cancer Research last weekend. Approximately 17,000 in fact. Needless to say, it was a pretty epic way to spend a Sunday.
The course was based in central London, starting and finishing in the Trafalgar Square area. The route toured around parts of London I never even knew existed – they were streets of another world. The grand London I suppose you could say, of scenery and landmarks where splendour and grand will only do. It was great to see these parts of London on a Sunday, when they sleep and everything seems so peaceful and quiet. This feeling was likely aided by the road closures for the race, which makes signing up for it next year definitely all the more worthwhile.
Many people were running the race to raise money for Cancer Research UK. Seeing the “I’m running for…” bibs on people’s’ backs around the course really brought home the enormity of the impact of cancer. It’s easy to think in numbers and figures when reading the news or watching TV campaigns – seeing names and ‘Mum’ or ‘Dad’ really hit home why Cancer Research run this event and the many others that they do each year. For the first time though, I saw signs of people running for people who survived – they were raising money so more people could survive their cancer battle too. Let’s hope that year on year we see an increase in these signs amongst the crowds.
When I went to the event the only ambition I had was to cross the finish line in one piece. In my mind, I was prepared to walk the vast majority of the race having not been able to train in the run up, thanks to my Flu of January 2017 (I’m dramatic I know). I first signed up for this race in 2016, however I was unable to run it due to being stuck in psych hospital. I swore in 2016 I would do it in 2017. In October of 2016 my friend tried convincing me to sign up for it as we have run races together before. I was hesitant and nervous having not been able to get myself running consistently for any length of time for a wee while. Eventually, in early January I secretly signed up anyway. I didn’t tell anyone until the week before – incase I didn’t go again. Nowadays my race dates are relatively guarded secrets for this reason.
Getting to the start line was half the battle. I had taken the decision to not wear a watch, or my Fitbit because the whole goal was to cross the finish line. I bumbled along at a very slow pace and after 1 hour 27 of running, I crossed the finish line curling over in an emotional mass of snot and tears of overwhelming emotion.
The first aid volunteers at the finish line came over asking if I was not feeling well – I was feeling a crazy concoction of pride, relief, and disbelief: physically? I was fine. Emotionally? I was fucked. I had actually achieved something for the first time in ages. I had managed to outdo my own expectations of myself with the encouragement and support of my friend and Wifey, and I’d had essentially an hour and a half to really reflect on how lucky I am, how much stronger I am than I often think, and how actually I really enjoy plodding along on a run.
For now, I am going to start running more regularly again – and hopefully another flu doesn’t stop me in my tracks again – because I just know how much it helps me mentally, emotionally and physically. In the future? Half Marathon by the time 2017 is out, here I come!!