I am, still, a runner. Just.

OK this blog is a bit of a sob story. About me and my estranged relationship with running. And how to avoid realizing the prediction of my mate Karl Mobbs who penned the cartoon below in my 30th birthday card (from 1995!).

When did I last race?

It’s now three years since I lined up in a ‘real’ (or what us Brits would call ‘proper’) race. By proper I mean one with a number pinned to my chest, starters gun and finish tape, and fellow competitors in the flesh rather than online.

That last ‘proper’ race was the New Haven Half Marathon. I raced it with my mate Mo’ath Alkhawaldeh. He won it comfortably in 1:10 and I was runner-up in 1:14:33.

Some of you may be wondering why I’ve not raced since. Actually I have completed two ‘events’ that many don’t consider count as proper races – the Bushy Park Run on 28 December 2019 (my 53rd birthday) in 16:55 and the British Masters Virtual 5K Relays on 20 June 2020 in 16:47 (on the North County Trailway, the only competitor logging a run outside the British Isles).

For most of the past few years I was saved from having to make excuses for my lack of racing. The pandemic truncated the race calendar for long periods. But now the pandemic is behind us, or rather we are kind of ‘living’ with it or trying to forget its there, I have some explaining to do.

Well I’ve not retired. At least not yet. But I’ve gotten close. Very close. And I keep getting closer. I have not been able to race for love nor money. At least not been able to race at a level I would have been happy with. And those that know me know that I’m hard (impossible) to please.

What’s the problem?

Since late 2019 I’ve wrestled with a nagging and debilitating injury. Essentially left leg glutes that fail to fire with all sorts of knock on effects like tight hamstrings, swollen knees, and exhausted quads. An injury that I’ve thrown every at. You name it I’ve tried it. The physical therapy, the stretching, the rolling, the resting, the strength work, the icing, the acupuncture etc. An injury that has crimped my training and crushed my spirit. But an injury that has not killed my love for running and racing.

For most the past three years I have continued, as far as possible, to train. In late 2020 I described Running Through a Pandemic. For much of 2020 and 2021 I trained with the inaugural Abbott World Masters Marathon Champs in London in mind (after three deferrals these took place in October 2021). My running log shows for much of this period I averaged 50-60 miles per week with long runs and workouts.

In late summer 2021 my resolve finally buckled. I told Coach Troopy that I’d forgotten what it was like to run pain free, that every mile of every run, no matter how ‘easy’ was not actually easy but hard and uncomfortable. Slow without the easy. I reluctantly scrapped plans to run London and dialled it back. And my log shows that in late 2021 and during 2022 the miles have slipped away and long runs and workouts are almost extinct.

I have ‘flirted’ with the dark side (aka cycling) – thinking I might make good at duathlon like my old mate Dave Smith. Right now I’m cycling more than running. But cycling, or a hybrid, is a poor substitute. It’s a great way to stay fit and ‘socialize’ with fit friends but the feeling, the buzz, just isn’t the same.

Why is this such a big deal?

I have enjoyed years of injury free running. It’s been a huge source of pride, satisfaction, and joy (as well as pain and diappointment!). Through running I’ve experienced many amazing places and met many good people. I’ve won countless accolades. And as my mother use to say when the chips were down, “there’s always someone worse off than you.” So why is this such a big deal. Well it’s because running is what I do and a runner is what I am. And for that reason I’ll keep on wrestling with it.

I am, still, a runner. Just.