I wasn’t fit enough, and I hadn’t trained enough, to run the Manchester Marathon two weeks ago.
But run it I did. 26.2 miles. Without stopping. Pausing only at water stations to sip a drink, and then the run began again.
My training was interrupted by two things.
First, I don’t enjoy running. Anything over 5k felt like sticking pins in my eyes. Not my happy place. Not my fun place. Luckily I’m surrounded by an insanely fit, very gorgeous group of friends who pulled on their trainers and joined me for some or all of the distance.
Then, six weeks before race day, I felt something twang in my knee. Cue several weeks of walking like Long John Silver. The physio confirmed a tear. Her advice was that I could run the marathon if I deloaded my training, turned up, walked when needed, and got it done. After that, my long distance running career was to be put firmly on hold. I was very happy to agree to the latter.
The trouble with my personality is that once I say I’m going to do something, I do it. I was running for myself, to prove I could. I was also running for a charity close to my family, one that supports people living with diabetes, a condition my daughter has lived with since she was six.
So how does someone who isn’t fit enough run 26.2 miles unbroken?
Mindset.
I coach on mindset. I train people on it. I am not always the gentlest in my approach but I genuinely believe that if you orientate your thinking, you can achieve almost anything you set your mind to. The question I had was whether that translated into physical performance.
I wavered. At nearly 50, I have no desire to injure myself. The thought of further damage, of needing surgery, of not being able to drive, lingered loudly. But the deep-veined voice in my blood said, you said you’d do it. Get to the start line.
For three weeks before the race, every night before I went to sleep, I closed my eyes and pictured myself crossing the finish line. I knew I’d be in tears. Anyone who has seen the photos knows this turned out to be entirely accurate.
I used powerful language too. Every night before I slept, the same words.
I am capable of running a marathon.
I will run 26.2 miles without stopping.
I am strong enough. I am resilient.
This is something I will do.
Every training run, the same mantra.
I arrived at the start line nervous and anxious, the monkey mindset chirping that I might fail. The over-enthusiastic lady on the start line called our wave forward. As my toe crossed the line, I knew. It would take the time it took. But I was not walking. This was something I had to do.
A radio presenter at the start spotted my charity vest and said into the mic, “Oh, there’s a runner for Type 1 diabetes. Go on, girl. My husband and daughter have Type 1 – thank you for running” The exact words I needed. I believe the Universe gives us what we need.
I don’t remember much of the race itself. I remember strangers cheering my name from the pavements, which was exceptional and heartbreaking and lovely all at once. I remember looking at my watch and forcing myself to slow down, knowing the plan mattered. I usually run a 10-minute mile. I ran the marathon at 11, holding something back. I fuelled hard. I stole someone’s last mini egg from a table on the side of the street. I tapped every power-up sign I passed, and belted a naked mans belly (with his permission.)
I crossed the line in just over four hours and fifty minutes, with tears leaking down my face, because I had programmed myself to know I would.
The power of mindset is extraordinary. Time and again, it shows me that I can do what I need to do, when I need to do it, and harness the glory at the end of it. The power of positive language is its bedfellow, and again, saying you can often is half the battle – certainly for the female mindset.
If something in front of you feels out of reach, or a little scary, my advice is this. Commit to it. Plan for it. Help yourself believe that your future is a choice.
You may choose your hard.
