On running, losing, and the people who show up
It might sound like a humblebrag, but yesterday I ran the HOKA Hackney Half, my first officially timed half marathon, setting off with the ambition to finish the course in under two hours, and pushing to a 1 hour 50 minute time if I was feeling it and the stars aligned.
As a kid, I was never the most sporty. I was chubby, slow, flamboyant, prissy. That’s why I continue to be amazed (even decades later) at what my body and mind can achieve, if – big caveat – I actually put in the work. Honestly, I was shedding a little tear here and there on the course yesterday as the 12-year-old me would never have even thought running distance would be achievable.
For me, alongside running as a candidate in the local elections, it was important to have another focus, something that was completely within my control. So, week in, week out, I was racking up the miles so that I could do the very best on race day. And as I was running with a charity place, I also committed to raising money for Positive East's work supporting people living with and affected by HIV in East London.
As it was my first official timed event, I’d heard that fairly often runners start out too quickly at events like this, where adrenaline and the roar of the crowds lull them into going that little bit too fast too early. I was keen to not repeat the same, yet found myself falling foul of it for the first mile or so.
Then, thankfully, I started to listen to my smartwatch pacer, set to 1 hour 55 minutes, informing me that I was ahead. And so I settled into a comfortable pace, running through the streets, counting the mile markers and reading all the signs held aloft.
If you’ve never run this kind of distance, you’ll be surprised at how easily you can settle into an almost mediative state, along with the rhythm of your feet hitting the ground. And any niggles I felt, remained just that: niggles. They soon passed, though I definitely felt them, acknowledged them and willed for them to disappear as quickly as they’d arrived.
By mile nine, it struck me that I’d had a couple of slower kilometres. I felt that I still had energy in the tank and could give more to this race. So, I pushed harder, working to shave off any time I could, to get close to the 1 hour 50 minute ‘stretch target’.
The thing I’ve always found about running, and why I was grateful to be training alongside an intensive election campaign, is that it’s a purely selfish endeavour. As someone who spends much of my time doing things for and with other people, lacing up my running shoes and heading out the door for a few hours is purely for me.
Yet at the same time, running is a community of people, a collective experience and a warm camaraderie. Yesterday, we were all in this together, and we all wanted each other to do the very best.
What are the lessons I take from running that I think we can all learn from?
Practice
It may be stating the obvious, but whatever we’re working on, we only get better through practice. Whether that’s running a half-marathon, or writing content, coding or working with data, we have to keep trying to be better.
Without a 10-week training plan, I wouldn’t have the intelligence to read the signs of my body, to know what a comfortable pace feels like, or when a pain can (or more importantly cannot) be ignored.
Know when to push
When we’re feeling comfortable, of course it’s easy to settle into a routine, a nice rhythm that is protective, safe. But I’d counter that if we want to be better, we also have to know when to push that bit deeper, harder.
It’s the same experience I previously spoke of: knowing when to jump. The idea is that once you’ve considered various perspectives, evidence and realities, you need to trust your gut decision. Yesterday, I did that at around the mile nile marker when I decided I needed to speed up.
I’m proud of you.
Yet, know when it’s not your time
You might misinterpret this as a ‘do more’, ‘go faster’, ‘just be better’ approach. I counter this with an even greater super power: knowing when it’s not your time and still choosing to finish the race, mustering up courage and energy to complete a programme even if it wasn’t a PB or the success you’d hoped.
Because it’s still great practice, an opportunity to learn more about ourselves and about others too. Just over a week ago, I felt this very deeply when the most intense campaign I’ve ever been involved with didn’t deliver the results we were hoping for – yet, I’m at peace with the outcome and learnt so much that I can take with me.
Truly, there is no shame in trying, turning up and putting yourself out there – I’m even more proud of you!
Ultimately, do it for you
The only person you’re really ever competing with is yourself – everyone is running their own race. If you want to run a half-marathon, get those running shoes on and start working towards a goal. What motivates us as individuals is what makes each of us unique.
And finally, be thankful for your support network
Yes, you may have chosen to do this, but they didn’t. Yet here they are, elbowing their way to the side of the road to catch a fleeting glimpse of you – sweaty and dazed – run, jog or walk past them in seconds. They shout your name, hold a placard, give you energy because they know you can do this.
Whether they can be there in person, or not, it doesn’t matter if we feel their positive presence in our lives. It’s the phone call when a friend asks ‘what do you need?’, the spontaneous delivery of flowers, the plans for dinner and a gallery, the ‘how are you doing?’ messages.
When people decide to start a family, they sometimes talk about how it ‘takes a village’ to raise a child. Whilst that might be true, I think each of us has always needed a village – our family, chosen or otherwise – to achieve great things.
Without mine, I don’t think I’d have crossed that finish line – at one hour, fifty-two minutes and fourteen seconds – on Hackney Marshes. Nor would I have raised over £300 for Positive East's work supporting people living with and affected by HIV. Nor would I have received 908 votes in last week’s elections in Rotherhithe.
To my village, thank you.