Ten Years Since Luck Found Me

Ten years ago, a random bit of post landed on my doorstep that changed everything.

I didn’t know it at the time, of course. I just knew I’d somehow got a spot in the London Marathon ballot, a one-in-a-million slice of luck (literally now) that I’d applied for on a whim. If I’d known how much it would change me, maybe I would have reacted with a little more reverence. Instead, I looked at the “you’re in” words, muttered “Oh, crap” and put the kettle on.

People apply for years and never get in, and there was me, clueless and unfit, suddenly staring down 26.2 miles like it was some sort of cosmic joke.

I had that weekend finished my first ever half marathon after a few months of sporadic and poorly executed training. I crossed the line and just thought this running malarkey wasn’t for me and couldn’t understand why anyone in the right mind would take on double that distance to complete a marathon.

But after a few days of thinking what a ridiculous idea it would be to actually run London Marathon, I even threw the magazine in the bin a few times, I decided I wanted to become a marathoner.

Since then, it’s taken me to places I never thought I’d go, both literally and mentally. It’s given me purpose when I was utterly lost and perspective when I needed to stop taking life quite so seriously. That one bit of luck didn’t just give me a marathon entry; it gave me a direction. I wouldn’t be a husband, a father or a half decent friend without it.

Ten years on, I’ve learnt that running is rarely just about running, it’s about what happens when you decide to keep going anyway.

Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t got in. It felt a bit like my name had been pulled out of the Goblet of Fire, only instead of glory and wizardry, I got shin splints and a permanent fear of gels. Maybe I’d still have found my way to running eventually. Or maybe I wouldn’t have. Maybe I’d still be searching for something. But the reality is I don’t really want to think too long about what could have been.

I don’t know if it was luck, fate or just a random algorithm in a London office that chose me that day. But I do know that it gave me a story worth telling, one I’m still writing, mile by mile, year by year, post by post.

Ten years later, I’m still lacing up, still writing, still trying to figure it all out.

And every time I think about that ballot, I smile and mutter the same words I did back then:
“Oh, crap.”

Only now, it’s said with gratitude.