People ask why I prefer to run alone. The simple answer I usually give is that I prefer the quiet. The truth is somewhat different.
The fact is I don’t run alone, so to speak. I have tended, of late, to run with myself. To question where I’ve come from and where I’m going. I run with my 19 year old self, living in India and naively happy. I ask him what he thinks of me now and the life I have ended up living. I run with me two years ago, unfit and unaware what hurdles the world was about to throw up in his path. I tell him everything will be fine. I tell him what I have now, that out of strife comes such wonderful things. I tell him about new friends, new love, new passions and I hope he sees the happiness in my eyes.
So far this year I have run two half marathons I ran the year before. I can vividly picture myself running them, remember the thoughts that swirled through the collected sweat. Before running the Silverstone Half on Sunday I stood and remembered the panic I felt at the start last year. I was stood right at the back of the crowd alone and paced around, I couldn’t focus on anything but the nerves that rippled through my body. Nowadays, I enjoy the build up, the nerves will always be there but that’s a good thing as it means I don’t go into a race unprepared for the task ahead. As soon as those races started however, I was a lot more focussed on the miles than the memories. At Hampton I was being pushed by a friend to reach my PB and during Silverstone it was my turn to push someone to reach theirs. Simply no time for nostalgia when you have a job focus on.
As soon as the medals are put away and the kit is washed and worn again I allow my mind to wonder back once more. When there is no one on the road but me, myself and I. The truth is I’m never running away from anything. Sometimes, I simply run to remember.
NEXT RACE: Rome Marathon