InspiredToRun.co.uk

Why do I run? More’s the question, what if I didn’t? Perhaps my habits would improve. I’d stop leaving dirty running kit and smelly trainers around the house. I wouldn’t follow the weather forecast on the internet with the zeal of a trainspotter. I’d cease printing off running routes in my work time, then at home paste them up like a child at nursery school, and measure out distances using a piece of string with my hand holding one end and my cat attached to the other. I would have watched the Angelina Jolie film on TV that I missed the other week while trudging round the park. I’d no longer swap cakes for aches, and visit my osteopath as often as a politician visits his secretary when both of us should be at home with the wife. Nor would I have learned an alternative to the English language – RICE, pyramid training, iliotibial band syndrome, VO2 max, fartlek (is that a real word?); sadly the list is endless. And maybe I would be manlier – because if you run you’re not a real man, someone once told me.

If I didn’t run, I wouldn’t have to tackle the runner’s greatest enemies – cars stationary and moving, pedestrians in the road and cyclists on the pavement, wind external and self-generated. Perhaps I would get to like insects, camber, trees with branches, stopwatches, other runners, dogs, dog owners and dog poo (OK, maybe not dog poo). And maybe I’d get some work done instead of browsing runnersworld.co.uk, which of course I only do in my lunch break. Best of all I’d be released from being a slave to the training schedule with a habit that has become an addiction. If I don’t get my fix, I get grumpy, listless, unmotivated. And then they tell you that running is good for you.

If I didn’t run, other people’s behaviour towards me would change as well. No longer would friends say: ‘You must like running when it’s hot.’ Nor after each event would my young daughters ask: ‘Did you win?’ when all I’d done was finish. And Paula, dear Paula. Why do you have to break records, win medals, and be a role model? Don’t you see what you’ve done? You’ve made it look easy, achievable, within us. You’ve enthused us, inspired us to take this torturous path in our lives, inflict this pain on ourselves, become metronomes who can only babble of PBs, training methods and injuries. Enjoy your pregnancy, Paula – don’t rush back.

So why do I do something that’s selfish, monotonous, lacking skill and risk-free? I’ve forgotten now – so why is it? For starters, I sleep better, work better, think better and do things better. It makes me calm – able to take life’s challenges in my stride. Someone needs to drive a group of children on a hot, sticky day through city traffic surrounded by white vans? No problem, I can do it – I’m a runner. And if I didn’t run, I wouldn’t do any sport at all, as I can’t kick a football, hit a cricket ball, or hold a rugby ball. And unlike other addictions, running is not the death of me but the life of me, with no ill side-effects. There’s nothing simpler than running. You don’t need rules to argue about, a sports centre to be open, expensive equipment, good weather or someone else. It can be done by anyone, at any age, anytime and anywhere. What happens because I do run? Running is easy physically – it’s the first sport we all learn – but tough mentally. I can be on a court, hit every ball that comes at me into the net, and still say I’ve played tennis. Or be on a pitch for ninety minutes, not go near the ball, and still say I’ve been in a football match.

But when I run there is no one else to join with. If I don’t make myself do it, it won’t happen. So if I run well, though I won’t win races or break records and no one will see me do it, I have the satisfaction of what I have done staying with me long after I have finished. Running boosts my confidence and my self-esteem, it means I don’t have to worry about weight (or weights), appearance, diet or health, because it’s all taken care of. So running is my life. That’s enough from me – I’m off on a run.