There seems to be a fairly set pattern for a runner’s first proper race, whatever the distance: book it in advance; plan your training; talk about it to psych yourself up; learn to cope with nerves; read through the registration instructions dozens of times, and don’t get injured!
This was very much my plan when I managed to get a place in the Marathon Eryri (Snowdonia Marathon) for October 2019. There was something undeniably awesome about contemplating this iconic marathon as my first ever race, but common sense kicked in fairly quickly, and I joined some of my running mates signing up for the Brecon to Merthyr Roman Road Race. This 16 mile race follows the old Roman road through the Brecon Beacons with a significant amount of elevation along the way, and takes place some 7-8 weeks before Eryri, making it an ideal warm up. So this would be my first race instead, and an excellent training race for the marathon.
Or not.
We’d decided to spend May half term just outside the Lake District, where the weather seemed to have got stuck in February that year. After a particularly cold, wet and windy day in the fells we headed back to the house for an evening of pie and mash, with a nice, warm fire to dry us out. But as we drove back into the village we spotted a sign that hadn’t been there in the morning – ‘Caution, Runners, 7-8pm’. A race?
A quick investigation revealed that this was the annual Levens 10k, and shortly before 7pm, with a belly full of pie, I found myself on the start line. No time to think about it, no friends to run with, no specific training. And the weather was horrible. This really hadn’t been the plan.
Maybe that’s why it was, in fact, perfect. It was a great route for me, down onto the plain for a very flat first three miles, then steeply up the hillside to run back through the beautiful Brigsteer woods. No trails, just narrow roads and wonderful views. With no preconceived plans or anxieties, without really even knowing the route, I just ran, and out came something I had thought long gone: my competitive spirit. I got pulled along by the crowd as we crossed the start line, starting much faster than I should have done. Then came the frustration at being overtaken, followed, in time, by the satisfaction of slowly overtaking people myself. Some of them I leapfrogged with for a while, but some I stayed past, and I discovered for the first time quite how energising that can be.
This wasn’t a run that needed to be a race – no need for road closures, limited marshals – which were precisely the races I’d always questioned. Why pay to run somewhere I could run anytime? Now I had an answer. A race is an event in every sense of the word, there are organisers and volunteers encouraging everyone to do their best, supporters who cheer on all the runners, not just those they know, and to top it all, a fantastic sense of being a part of something bigger, achieving just by being involved. This little, local race on a soggy May evening had opened my eyes to a whole new world.
I Run Free 