I run, so you dont have to
Monday morning, I am a daisy that has been crushed under a pile of bricks. Getting out of bed is herculean. I am sneezing and aching and everything hurts. I try to convince myself it’s all in my head. My head tells me to fuck off.
I’m done with disappointments and underachieving, done with seeing my friends make it, while I don’t. I’m tired of being a zero.
I am the fastest marathon runner here. I am the current Snowdonia Marathon champion. I am the fastest descender here. I live here. I have practised this course more than anyone. This is my race. This is my time.
I see some very good runners on the start line. I’m happy they’ve come, I want to race them. I’m not afraid of anyone.
I am aiming hard for the ON Snowdonia Trail Marathon. It is the GB Trial for the World Mountain Running Champs in Argentina. I want 3 things; to win, to gain my first GB vest, and to represent GB in Argentina. I want these things so badly that I am prepared to wake up at 6am every morning for training, except on Sundays, where I wake up at 4.45am instead.
I decide to put the hammer down. I want to win, and I’m not going to hide it. The first 2 miles are uphill, the four of us are together, but I won’t let anyone past me.
We climb Tryfan on Thursday morning. There is no sun. Yesterday was sunny, tomorrow will be sunny, but today is wet, cold and windy. After 30 minutes of non-stop protesting, they both realise I am not listening, and they do not complain again. Tryfan is mine and Nina’s favourite mountain, it cannot be walked up. You have to scramble and climb. The rocks are wet, both Theo and Isaac get cold hands, but they don’t complain. The way down is even more difficult, jarring and slippery. They just get on with it. I don’t have to teach a single thing. The mountain explains it all.
Tuesday I am out in the hot sun all day with nothing to drink. I am getting pulled around by a wacker plate twice my size, and by the time it gets to home time I am feeling pretty wacked myself. On top of this, Nina’s car battery has died, so she has to take me to and from work with the kids. Although it’s only for a few days, I realise how much I rely on that quiet time inbetween home and work.
Anyway, I am sposed to be doing a fell race in the evening. But I am not feeling it at all. I could force myself to go, but I know I have another hard day at work tomorrow, and I will be totally ruined. I hate having my life dictated by work, but sometimes that’s just the way it is. I am in bed by 8.30pm.
I am also supposed to be running at the Liverpool Rock n Roll Half Marathon this week, I am looking forward to it for a few reasons;
1) I can support the Bangor Uni students who will be there doing the full marathon. I have done some talks and training sessions with the class and have been reading all their blogs
2) I might win
