*The Debatewise Blog
What running has taught me - part 9
Running round other cities makes you feel like a local. Okay not in Istanbul, there they just think you’re a freak. And actually things weren’t much better in Amsterdam. However, in Washington you fit right in. Not only that but because my wonderful running partner/tour guide Anne and I had jogged past the White House, Capital Hill, a whole host of government buildings, museums and monuments to dead presidents I’ve come up with a new business idea. Running tours. Like the hop-on, hop-off buses you see except without the bus. Or the hopping.As you may be able to tell from my jaunty writing style it’s been a good week. Back on schedule for the first time in a long time I managed two speedwork sessions on Tuesday and Thursday, two easy runs on Wednesday and Saturday and twelve miles yesterday. Tuesday’s run was best of all. Twelve hill sessions, twelve times running up hills for two minutes at a time. Feeling exhausted at the top and exhilarated at the end; both because I’d finished and because my legs held up. Yeah for both of them.
Still not sure about making it round on Sunday though. Not a week on Sunday either, this coming Sunday, five short days from now. There’s not much more physical training I can do, it’s all about the mental stuff now: trying to feel strong and confident, coming up with coping strategies, visualising key points throughout the race and imagining the glorious, glorious, finish line.
Though to be honest, the whole thing about the finish line has never been a big part of my training. If I could take one thing from these past six months it’d be I understood the journey is the destination. This is not about the end but the expedition; the ups and downs, the pleasure and pain, testing myself and not always passing but always better for the attempt.
I have been in a particularly bad mood these past few weeks and think now the injury has been the cause. I’ve taken a huge amount of self-confidence from running, from being able to do it at all to being able to do it pretty well. The sub four hour marathon was supposed to be the cherry on the cake, incontrovertible proof of my ability, the cornerstone on which I’d build a future more secure.
Letting go of that goal has been more challenging than I’ve appreciated. It’s thrown up a great deal of self-criticism and doubt. It’s caused me to feel deeply frustrated and pretty damn angry. I’ve had to manage disappointment, loosen my grip on a outcome I thought necessary and emerge the other side feeling good about plan B.
Which I think I do. Plan B is to enjoy the race and not worry about time. It’s to understand getting to where I am from where I was is a good thing and enough. It’s knowing there can be other marathons, that I don’t have to do it all for this one, and to realise how old I’d feel in a few years if I got my best ever time now.