Last weekend, much to my surprise, I ran 4 whole miles.
I shouldn’t really be surprised; I did after all set out to run 4 miles. But it had taken me a good six months to run a whole 3 miles (about 5km) and this was only my second attempt to run 4. Not only did I manage to run all of it, including the steepest hill I’ve ever seen, but I also managed it in just under 39 mins. As you can imagine I’m very pleased with myself, even if my knees are starting to question my sanity.
I think a lot of this is to do with belief. I never believe I would be able to run; never mind 4 miles. So every time I tried to run the 3 miles my brain would tell me that I couldn’t run the whole thing, I’d have to walk some of it, even though my breathing and my legs were fine.
With the 4 miles I was doing fine, but coming to my second smaller hill and thinking how I’d never make it, I should walk now, when I came across a little boy ‘running’ with his dad. I ran past them and then thought ‘I can’t stop’ at least not while they could see me. By the time I was out of sight I was back on the flat and suddenly realised that there was no reason why I shouldn’t run the whole thing. So I did.
Good luck to everyone running the London Marathon this weekend. For the first time in my life I am starting to see why you do it.