I am struggling for a title because the usual ‘starting again’, ‘back to basics’… don’t quite fit. I had a therapy session this morning which was well timed because I have been struggling this week. Talking it through was so helpful and it all makes so much more sense now- I was/am completely over peopled. After a busy week that included a day on main campus, presentation to the Executive, 3 days of conferencing, running a team day, marshalling at a half marathon and then the great north run, my system is in shock. That tracks!
We talked about movement and running and whether I was in a need/have to or want space. I had already planned start a 5km running programme and do the first run today so as I was driving round to the car park at Bolton Abbey and getting sorted I was interviewing myself in my head:
So, Jess, do you enjoy running the moment?
No not really.
Really? Why is that?
It just feels hard and like I am not making any progress at all
But you still want to run? Tell us a bit more about that
Yes. I know the joy it can bring. The joy of being outside, of being in nature, feeling it, the joy of being able to move.
When you look back at your happiest running what comes to mind?
Well, running or run walking a loop at Bolton Abbey of whatever distance and having coffee and breakfast afterwards.
And then I laughed at myself. Running is only partly about the running itself. It’s also about the being able to run or walk and then have coffee, to not be in pain or so knackered that the only option is to go straight home. It’s about ticking runs off and the sense of achievement that comes with consistency. It’s about saying yes to long walks or uphill adventures without worrying about whether I can do it.
But mostly it’s about the joy of being able to feel the rain on my face, smell the rain on the car park tarmac, hear it rustling as it bounces its way through the trees. Running is a way for me to find joy in the everyday that I don’t get from anything else. I’d lost sight of that.
So I set off on my first run of the programme. Running 30 seconds, walking 2 minutes eight times. I deliberately turned my face into the rain and bounced into puddles. I laughed at myself as I sucked the autumn air into my lungs and wrapped myself in the solitude of the empty paths.
The run almost finished too soon. I ordered coffee and a bacon sarnie to relive a happy running tradition and to offer my system a gentle and calm restart.
I love running in so many weird and wonderful ways.
Me, about half way round the Rasselbock Half Marathon
I started this post quite some time ago – just after finishing the Rasselbock Running Half Marathon at Sherwood Pines just over a month ago. What I started trying to articulate then was that I like to think that I am quite good at doing hard things, that I am ok out of my comfort zone and that I trust myself to do have a go, figure it out and get it done. Just sometimes, I forget. I signed up last minute and did the half marathon to prove that I can indeed still do hard things and that doing those impossible things can indeed be fun. I was struggling for the words then and sort of gave up on the post.
I think I was struggling for words, because what I just said doesn’t quite capture it. I have been thinking about it and now, a month and a bit from doing it and 3 weeks away from the Great North Run, I think I am beginning to untangle it a bit more. So I think the reality is more like this: I love my comfort zone and I love being good at things. I generally only do things I know I will be good at. Being pretty good at school from the start, learning to read and to swim early and being good at horse riding when I first learned as a kid – and those really being the only things I did – I never learned how to learn and work at something. I never actually learned to do hard things – nothing I had to do was hard to me and anything that was hard, I just didn’t do. And I pretty much managed to get through life like that (not consciously, I am just lucky that what I am good at conforms to what society expects – I did well at school, I went to uni, I got a good job and even though it wasn’t quite that simple or linear, it pretty much holds true). And then I started running. I am a crap runner. And I don’t usually mind being a crap runner. Running has taught me 3 key things that I don’t think anything else ever has:
You can be objectively awful at something but still really enjoy it and get pleasure and the benefits from it. Objective success based on society expectations or on what others can do is pretty meaningless.
You can find something really really hard, both physically and mentally and still want to do it, sometimes even enjoy it and get a lot out of it. And the feeling of having enjoyed something once you have finished it even if you didn’t really enjoy it at the time, is a powerful thing.
You can get better at doing hard things. You can train yourself to do hard – not just to get physically better or mentally stronger so that the hard becomes easier- although that’s part of it – but to think about doing hard things in a different way. It’s a way of believing in yourself, trusting yourself and not accepting a ‘no, you can’t do this’ – even from yourself.
But when my running isn’t going well or I am struggling to get out, I no longer feel like I can do hard things. The ‘can’t do this’ voices get louder and doing the impossible no longer seems like fun, it just seems impossible. I retreat to the girl who was good at everything she did because she learned to avoid anything hard. But life’s not like that as an adult. Life is full of hard things. Work is hard – often just with volume of stuff, but sometimes also intellectually. Article revisions, managing relationships, juggling priorities… it can be hard and I am better at it when I remember that I am good at doing hard things. And I become much more confident in my ability to tackle anything when I am consistently running, because consistently running means I am consistently practicing doing hard things. My mental strength and ability to get things done, work at things, prioritise and push through are not something that I have brought from life to running, they’re all things that running has brought into the rest of my life. So without running consistently as a reminder that I can do hard things, the rest becomes the hard things I just don’t do. I end up doing the easy quick win work, I don’t prioritise as well and I avoid the things that will require me to work at them.
And let’s be honest, running has been inconsistent. Some of it has been happy running which has been nice but it has also been easy running with permission to bail out and walk all of it or sit on a beach instead. And that all has its place – but I have not been practicing doing hard things. Not at all. So when Kath saw the Rasselbock Marathon and we discussed doing it so she could get a marathon in as part of her ultra training that particular weekend, I signed up to the Half. Untrained, barely running 2 miles at a time and terrified that I would be so crap that I would be timed out on one of the most inclusive events around. Doing. Hard. Things. I could tell I had got out of the habit because even signing up made me nervous. Was this going to be another DNS or maybe a DNF, was it going to be horrible, how painful was it going to be?
But the thing with signing up fairly last minute means that you don’t have a lot of time to spiral. I was also stupid busy at work so didn’t have much time to think about it and the focus was Kath’s marathon (she was awesome!). I managed to put my half to one side because I convinced myself that I was just going along to support Kath. And then we were on our way down to Sherwood Pines. On Saturday morning we headed for parkrun – might as well. That in itself felt like ‘doing hard’. I was ok going round using my run/walk intervals but I was slow, slower than I am really comfortable with. But that’s just comparing myself to the runner I was rather than focusing on the runner I am now. Nothing hurt though and overall I actually felt ok about the half after having completed the 5k. It was also lovely to see my friend Jo and the Fordy Runs crew at the parkrun and to see the set up for the next day.
Half marathon day came. I set off before Kath. The marathon set off half an hour after the half to avoid congestion on the course. I settled in at the back around the three and a half hour pacer although I had no intention of sticking with a pacer. I know I prefer doing my own thing. However, after a little while the pacer settled in with me. I checked my watch and her pace was off by a lot. We were going downhill and were roughly 14 and a bit minute mining. We chatted a bit and she asked me several times if I thought she was on pace. Then she decided she was ahead of pace and needed to slow down and I thought I would be sensible and join her and we walked a while. Eventually though I remembered that I really need to do my thing and this running faster for a minute and then walking really slowly is not how I pace my run/walk – so I left her and did my thing. I went through mile one at 16 minutes and she was a way behind me so that just confirmed I didn’t want to stick with her. She might be very good at getting round in the specified time but I much prefer even splits. For a couple of miles we leapfrogged each other and then I think she eventually settled into her proper pacing and went ahead. I settled into my own headspace. I was walking more than I wanted to really but mostly I was having a good time. I was enjoying being out there. I was enjoying the feeling of not having a choice but to finish (there’s always a choice), of having a reason to push through the doubts. I just kept plodding. Every now and again I would have a chat with people I passed or coming past me, but never for long.
Kath caught me at an aid station, she was struggling so my focus shifted from me to encouraging her. I had some water and coke and carried on leaving Kath to go to the loo. When she came past me again she looked much stronger and seemed happier. All good. The route was nice – woodland paths, some sand, a lot of shade which was so welcome in the ridiculous heat. Part of the reasoning for this run had been to practice fuelling so I had apricots as well as some haribo and tailwind in both flasks. If I was to get anywhere near the recommended amount of carbs, I’d needed to drink a flask an hour and have several apricots. The haribo were emergency fuel. I was doing ok-ish on the drinking but really struggled eating so gave up on that. When I had nearly finished one flask I wanted to replenish my tailwind at the next water station but I couldn’t get my stick pack open. It just wouldn’t tear. So I gave up in that in a huff and just filled the flask with water and got myself round on that and flat coke from the aid stations. I thought I might like the little pretzels and other things they had but I didn’t want proper food. Not even the haribo. I should of course have just asked for help to get the stick pack open. I honestly just didn’t think of that on the day.
I was genuinely having a great time until about 10 miles. Then I was getting tired. Nothing really hurt, my hips were beginning to niggle. I was pretty much only walking. I knew from my pace that the 3.45 pacers which included my friend Jo would be catching me up soon and when they did it was nice to have some company for a while and chat and catch up a bit. Right towards the end I couldn’t quite keep up with them which annoyed me slightly – I was here to do hard things after all – but I came in at 3.46 something – just behind the first marathon finisher (who had run double my distance in half an hour less than me).
So how did I feel about it. I loved it. I had indeed done the hard thing. I had finished a half marathon in the heat without having trained for it – just going on experience and understanding of how hard I can push my own body safely. I can do hard things. And I did enjoy it and nothing was broken or really painful. Girl did good! But now, a month on. Hm. I walked most of it. It’s the slowest time I have ever recorded for a half, did I really do a hard thing? Didn’t I actually just stay right in my comfort zone and not push? Wouldn’t doing hard things actually mean running more than I did, not stopping to walk quite so easily, having less fun and more determination to get it done more quickly? And I honestly don’t know. Well, no, I know that I couldn’t have pushed much more without risking injury or heat stroke or at a minimum just utter misery. And I keep trying to remind myself that ‘hard’ does not mean miserable and awful or stupid and risky. And what I did that day was hard. There were times when I wanted to stop but not seriously, and there were times where I did push myself to run a bit more and to get moving. I am trying to remember that I was taking a baby step towards getting used to doing hard again. But I don’t quite believe it.
How I feel now is probably shaped by running since then. I have, once again, not been consistent. I ran a little 5k the week after, another 3 miles in the Yorkshire Dales a couple of weeks ago and a 5 mile plod along the canal at home last week. That’s it. Hardly sensible or even useful Great North Run training. So yeah, The Rasselbock Half was all about reminding myself that I can do hard. And it was a well timed and needed reminder. That reminder now needs build into a habit. Doing hard as a one off takes effort and willpower. Being practiced at doing hard, being in the habit of just doing it even if it seems impossible, being comfortable with the possibility of failure but refusing to not try because I might fail, or worrying about the possibility of being outside the comfort zone, finding something tricky or not being able to do it – all those things come with consistent running and re-wiring my brain so it doesn’t just know, it also believes that doing the impossible is fun.
After my Happy Running in Bath, Edinburgh and at home, we headed to Seahouses for a week of writing and thinking for my DBA. We had a lovely little apartment and the perfect location and as well as some lovely walks on the beach I also had one little run.
I didn’t go far and I found it really hard and was initially frustrated at the lack of fitness. I was also a bit unsettled because we’d had to change plans. The initial plan was to drive Kath to Craster for her to run back and for me to have a plod there before driving back. But the road was closed and rather than trying to work out an alternative, we pulled into the car park at Beadnell Bay to regroup. Kath was unsettled and so was I but eventually we got going and she set off to run to Dunstanburgh Castle and I set off on my plod.
After about a mile I realised that I didn’t want to run, I wanted to walk in the sea with bare feet- so that’s what I did.
I didn’t run very much at all that week but I loved walking on the beach, playing with the sea and just being.
You might have guessed, if you have been following my blog for a while, that I have not been in a happy running phase. It’s been about persuading myself to get out at all and then just trying to get through to the end. It’s been about trying to stick to a plan, about building consistency and not being hugely successful with any of that.
And then there has been the silly self-consciousness and lack of self-belief. All the nonsense that led me to benching the brain a little while ago.
So I am really just checking in to let you know that I had a happy running week last week. In objective terms it was pretty awful: Slow, lots of walking, short distances… but I loved it. The first run was on Tuesday morning in Bath. I was there for a 2 day thesis workshop. I didn’t sleep well and I felt overwhelmed by work stuff and thesis stuff and I didn’t really want to be away from home. But I had a little plod round Bath. I walked lots. I didn’t go far. I smiled lots. It was perfect.
And then on Friday morning I had a little trot out round Edinburgh. Yep that’s right. On Thursday morning I made my way to Edinburgh from Bath. Again I didn’t sleep well into Friday. I was already over-peopled when I got there and my imposter syndrome was through the roof. It was actually lovely but I should also know better than have 4 days of intense people-ing in a week. Anyway, the Friday morning pootle round Edinburgh was much like the plod round Bath: Slow, lots of walking, stopping for pictures and smiling. I had a great time out there and I didn’t care what people might think.
And then on Sunday I ran at home. I did what we call a backwards sheep loop, just over 3 miles. I should have gone earlier in the morning. It was already quite hot but I just plodded along using 30/30 intervals and walking any particularly sunny or uphill bits. I found it unreasonable hard and it may well be the slowest I have ever run that loop – but again, I had a great time.
Saturday and today I also had pretty good gym sessions where I seemed to get into my little bubble and my brain behaved. So anyway, even objectively awful running, in fact doing something that some people would not even consider ‘going for a run’, can be very happy running indeed!
I have had a funny week. I didn’t run until Thursday. And I nearly didn’t then. I was so tired on Thursday. I just felt dead and empty. I struggled to focus on work. I had a window at lunchtime and I was so tired that I had to do something. My initial thought was to try a power nap but I was really worried I would sleep through the alarm and miss a meeting in the afternoon. So I put my gear on and went for a run. It seemed like a slightly insane idea but it worked. I felt better afterwards. I did the same again today. I had fallen asleep on the sofa watching something on TV. I felt groggy and worse than I had before I fell asleep. As much as I didn’t really want to go run, I laced up and went. I feel far less tired and dead than I did before. The thing is, I know that doing exercise will make me feel better in almost every circumstance. It just will. But knowing that and showing up for myself to do it are two very different things. So I have been thinking about this idea of showing up for yourself.
In general, I think we are pretty conditioned to show up for other people, to not let others down, and to do what is expected of us. Women in particular are somehow expected to put others first, do the stuff that others need doing before even thinking about what we might need. The idea of showing up for yourself, doing what you need not what other people want you to do is portrayed as selfish and uncaring or even rude and unreasonable. I am not suggesting that we carry on regardless of whether what we need is harmful to others. I am suggesting we stop being harmful to ourselves while attending to everyone else’s (and society’s) needs and expectations.
I should note that I am pretty lucky here. I am not as conditioned as many in this area. I don’t really care what society expects or what women should or shouldn’t do and I never really have. I do have a bit of a thing about doing a very good job at whatever it is I am doing though which isn’t always helpful. But as I was thinking about the idea of showing up for myself, I realised that it’s not expectations or putting others first that stop me from showing up for myself. Nope, it’s two other things – the first is the needing to do a good job and the other is that I simply haven’t given enough thought to what showing up for myself means to and for me.
So this week I am accepting that I didn’t do all the things I had planned, that Saturday was a completely dead day and am instead choosing to be really pleased that on 2 days where I was tired and my default position was to retreat and hide rather than do, I did the thing that was most likely to make me feel better both short and longer term – I showed up for myself and got the running done. The rest I need to think about more. So watch this space.
really (not) a runner 