One Year On

It was almost exactly a year ago that I stood with Steve and watched the multitudes complete the Liverpool Marathon. I’d been out of the running world for a couple of years, but had been following the training of a few people I knew – most notably my cousins Karen and Jamie and a friend from school, Jay. Their commitment to training had been nothing short of inspirational, and I was keen to cheer them on.

As we were waiting by the entrance to Sefton Park, the runners started coming through. The leaders glided by with seemly little effort and the faster club runners powered by on their way to medal-dom and glory. As successive waves of runners passed by the effort levels on people’s faces increased bit-by-bit. My over riding feeling watching the runners go by was that of admiration. As you may know, it’s no small decision to run a marathon, much less to train through the hot summer for one. It least the chilly mornings of winter training can provide welcome cooling on long runs, the thought to a punishing sun on a 20-miler makes me wince. 

Amongst the endless mass of running vests passing by, the blue and white hoops of Liverpool Running Club flashed by and it was good to see so many old team mates from my former running days. As they passed by quite a few of them shouted “whay aren’t you doing this?!?”. They had a point, but I was far too into my rowing to have any time to marathon training. A sixty mile commute to Chester doesn’t mix well with pounding the pavements.

My running had been slightly resurrected with a nice Saturday morning jog with Mike after Saturday Morning training. If I was honest with myself, I was starting to enjoy those runs more than I was enjoying the boatwork. My time as a rower was starting to seem like a Moby Dick-style quest for Novice glory. It seemed crazy to be saying to others “yeah, this is my third Dee head”. Suppose it may be impatience, but I was starting to think “what’s it all for?”

So back to the Marathon

The black and white kit of Penny Lane Striders was instantly recognisable. I’d known a couple of members (ex-BMFers) and was always impressed at their showing at local races. Watching them all sail by, the thought flashed across my mind “Why not give running another go?”

In my mind, Rowing was a lot of toil and heartache for flashes of good technique, whereas running meant just getting out and freedom. I’ve since realised the erroneous nature of this view, but that’s a post for another time.

This thought wouldn’t go away and watching more and more runners go by it only pounded stronger in my head. As we left to go home I realised that a seed had been planted in my head and it wasn’t going to go away. I found myself very quiet for the rest of the day.

The following Tuesday was my first session with PLS. You know the rest…